“I regret, fair lady, that duty calls me elsewhere. For nothing less would I leave the light of your company.”
“For nothing less would I let you,” she said, with more politeness than warmth. Jazeray bowed, and strode confidently away towards the arch.
“An interesting young man,” said Asea.
“One hears such rumours about him,” said Sardec.
“Now, Prince,” she said, “don’t you start that game too. You should be above it.”
Sardec was quite taken aback by this rebuke, and judged it merited. “Thank you for reminding me of my manners. I am a simple soldier, too long from polite company.”
“You sound just like your father when he was your age,” said Asea. “How old are you now? Thirty?”
“Thirty one, Lady.”
With something like shock Sardec realised that she was talking of his father as he had been almost seven centuries before. But of course that was well within the memory of one of the First. Asea looked the same age as his sister but she was far older than his mother, and one of the most powerful sorceresses in the land. That was a thing that was well to remember, he thought. Keep your guard up.
She offered him her arm, and they turned and entered her palace.
Chapter Nineteen
“Please be seated, Prince,” said Lady Asea. Sardec waited for her to sit and then took his own chair. A servant stood behind each of them to make sure the seat was perfectly placed.
The room was, as he had expected, beautiful. A formal landscape by Trentuvalle dominated one wall, a painting of one of the Seven Lakes so exquisite that you could almost believe that the painter had walked the Blessed Land before the Exile. He made the observation and saw Lady Asea hide a smile behind her fan. As he always did in the presence of Terrarchs so much his elder, he felt more than a little gauche. It was hard to imagine this smiling beauty as the famous Lady in Grey, a sorceress as feared during the conquest as Azaar himself.
“It is a true and perfect likeness of Lake Neverne. Cousin Trent painted a similar in miniature to remind him of home,” said Asea. “It was his favourite place. He carried that miniature everywhere… until the end.”
Sardec seemed to recall a rumour that the painter had been her lover. He had committed suicide under extremely obscure circumstances. There might have been a scandal if he recalled correctly.
“How is your dear father?” she enquired.
“As well as might be expected,” said Sardec, proud of the fact that his face had not coloured in shame. Many felt his father, too, should have gone to the Palace of Forgetfulness when his sickness came on him. Having the Grey Plague and not doing so was considered very tasteless in some quarters.
“I have regretted being deprived of his company these recent years,” said Asea. For all his pride, Sardec’s father’s illness had caused him to withdraw to their estates.
Asea removed her mask and placed it down on the small table between them. Her features were just as exquisitely sculpted and far more lovely. Her eyes were very large. Her lips were very full. Her teeth were very white. Her cheekbones were high. But it was not just the physical beauty that was so affecting. The unmasking produced an effect of extraordinary sensuality that struck Sardec like a blow.
She smiled as if she knew exactly the effect she was having and was enjoying it. Sardec raised his guard even higher. He had known such Terrarch women as this before. He had never enjoyed feeling manipulated by them.
“Will you have something to drink?” asked the Princess, in such a manner that made it clear that he was expected to say yes.
“I would love to, Lady,” said Sardec. The smile widened a fraction. She rang a bell and a servant appeared. Sardec had to struggle to keep from staring. The human, if human it was, was garbed all in black from his tunic to his shiny boots. Even his head was wrapped in what must have been a very long scarf so that only his blazing black eyes were visible. He wore a crimson sash at his waist. Through it was thrust a short curve-bladed knife the like of which Sardec had never seen before. He placed a tray containing a decanter of silverine and two glasses on the table beside Asea’s mask. He poured from the decanter and then withdrew to a discreet distance. He was, by far, the most perfectly poised human Sardec had ever encountered. Asea followed his glance once more. Once more he felt gauche. Was she doing this deliberately he wondered.
“Karim is from the desert lands of Xulander,” she said. “He entered my service there. His people served the Serpent Men once. Now they serve me.”
Another rumour came to him, one he had overheard being quoted rudely and speculatively in the officer’s mess when the Terrarchs were in their cups — something about her and two of her servants from the southern continent being lovers. Was it true, he wondered? He could detect no signs of impropriety in the relationship now, but then how could he judge? Asea had more than a millennium’s experience of dissembling her emotions. Her smile widened fractionally again, as if she could read his thoughts.
“Tell me about your recent sojourn in the mountains,” she said. Off balance, Sardec began telling her about his recent foray into the hills. Only once the tale was well under way did he begin to consider the propriety of talking to her about what some would have said was a secret mission. He dismissed the thought. The Lady Asea was trusted by Azaar himself. She was one of the First. If she was not to be trusted, no one was.
A small quiet voice told Sardec to be careful. Who was he to know who was trustworthy or not. According to his father, a great deal of treachery had been perpetrated by the First down the years. Still, he could not see what harm would be done by speaking to her.
She seemed particularly interested in his description of the Ultari when he came to it.
“You saw it quite clearly?”
“Quite clearly, Lady.” He remembered now how particular Colonel Xeno had been on this point as well, and pulled up short.
“What is it, Prince?”
“Perhaps nothing, Lady Asea.”
“I am intrigued.” He did not want to tell her of the Colonel’s interest in the subject, so he said.
“I was wondering why you are so interested in these creatures.”
“I am more than curious.” She shivered. “I can still remember the time of the wars with the Spider God. I was in the western islands at the time fighting against the Spawn of Dagoth. The tales that reached us even there were disturbing to say the least.”
“But the Spider God was defeated.”
“Yes. Deep Achenar was sealed, the minions of Uran Ultar defeated and the Spider God banished or destroyed.”
“You think the matter is significant?” She gave him a dazzling smile that made him feel more childish than ever.
“The Scuttler in the Shadows was one of the greatest foes the Ten Thousand ever faced. It troubles me more than a little that a sorcerer should be poking around so close to his last resting place. More worrying still is that one of Uran Ultar’s servants should still be alive down there.”
“You think someone may be trying to resurrect the Spider God?” That was a disturbing thought.
“Resurrect is the wrong word. I doubt that Uran Ultar was ever truly dead. The entrances to Deep Achenar were destroyed. The ways were sealed with Elder Signs and a guard was set to watch over the place. Nothing ever emerged and over the centuries the watch was withdrawn. The thing was deemed dealt with by the powers that be.”
“You think Uran Ultar still waits in the darkness?” He had gone down into those mines. He had seen the Ultari. Had he really been in close proximity to an ancient demon god?
“I think it’s more than possible. More to the point perhaps somebody else thinks it’s possible. What other reason could your sorcerer have for being there?”
“Seeking knowledge perhaps? The Old Races possessed many secrets unknown even to the Terrarchs.”
