The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(4)

“So, you feel it.” Adjaan nodded in approval.

“What is it?” he asked, straightening up.

“The price of staying in one place too long.”

She snapped her fingers in his face. Mal blinked – and opened his eyes to the blue-green light of the skrayling lamps. Adjaan gave a hissing laugh.

“You will need better self-control than that, Catlyn-tuur, if you wish to fight our enemies.”

Mal picked up the cup of aniig and sipped the cooling liquid. Adjaan reminded him of his fencing-master, never satisfied with his pupils’ rate of improvement. He only wishes you to reach your full potential. Easy for father to say. He wasn’t the one hobbling down the stairs like an old man, hamstrings protesting from an afternoon of naught but footwork.

“Catlyn-tuur?”

Mal blinked again, and realised Adjaan was addressing him.

“Sorry, honoured one. You are right, I need better control.”

She smiled, more kindly. “Fortunately Erishen-tuur is remarkably adept for a kiaqnehet. And the renegades are fewer than we feared.”

“You’re sure?”

“We can never be sure, but yes. By my reckoning there are no more than a handful in and around the city.”

Mal leaned forward. “Who are they?”

“Alas, that I cannot tell you. Jathekkil we know, of course, though he is as yet too weak to be a danger.”

“Prince Henry.” The Queen’s four year-old grandson hosted the soul of their old enemy Jathekkil, formerly incarnated as the late Duke of Suffolk.

“Indeed. Doubtless he has an amayi, but if so they are being very discreet; at any rate we have not been able to confirm it.”

Mal nodded. Skraylings did not marry but some took life-mates, amayi?, who watched over them during the vulnerable years before and after reincarnation. Erishen and Kiiren were just such a pair; he should not be surprised that Jathekkil had a companion too.

“There is one who spends a great deal of time at the palace and seldom leaves London,” Adjaan went on. “It could be he. And there are one or two who come and go, or perhaps several.”

“Then we have a good chance at success.” Mal was unable to suppress a grin of triumph.

“You have a chance, yes.”

“And the skraylings will help?”

“We will prevent any more of our people from joining their ranks, and our patrols here will discourage activity in your capital, but more than that I cannot promise. Our position here is fragile enough; if those in power knew what was truly occurring in their peaceful kingdom…”

“Of course, honoured one. Discretion is paramount.” Ever since the trouble in Venice there had been more and more reports of witch-hunts, some as far afield as Germany and Scotland. He had no wish to bring such horrors to his own country. “Even so, the aid you describe will be invaluable.”

They drank their aniig in silence for a few moments.

“And what will you do when the senzadheneth, the guisers, are gone?” Adjaan asked, just as the silence threatened to go on too long for courtesy.

“I had not looked that far ahead,” Mal lied, putting down his cup. “But now that you mention it… We are ourselves renegades, in a sense. We would gladly surrender to the elders’ justice, to be reborn among the skraylings if we can.”

“You and your brother are kiaqneheth. Surely you understand that this is not possible?”

“Jathekkil thought it was,” Sandy said. “By killing one of us–”

Adjaan made a dismissive gesture. “Even if it could be done, it would not avail you. The penalty for taking human form is destruction, you know that.”

“And what of our amayi, Kiiren? Must he too be condemned for our sins?”

Her topaz eyes narrowed. “Outspeaker Kiiren is not lost?”

“No, honoured one,” Mal said. “He has been reborn in human flesh, as we were–”

“Kiiren senzadh.”

The distaste in her voice made him wince, but he pressed on nonetheless.

“Yes, honoured one. We brought him back with us from Venice. That is, we took him as far as my estate in Provence, and my wife has charge of him now. But with all the trouble in France, she has decided to bring him here to England despite the dangers.”

“Oh? And what business is he of mine, this human child of yours, this…” she looked from one twin to the other “…guiser?”

“It was not his wish to break our laws, honoured one,” said Sandy, “any more than it was mine. He is young, scarcely more than a century in this world, and does not deserve exile. Please, let him go back to our homeland and rejoin our people.”

“And why should I allow this? As a favour to you, who unleashed hrrith in the streets of Venice and dashed all our hopes of an alliance with that city?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you cannot be disappointed when I refuse.”

Mal bowed his head in submission. There was no point arguing the matter, not now. Perhaps if the outspeaker were allowed time to consider…

“Come on, Sandy.” He got to his feet. “We should be going. The Hayreddin will be arriving soon.”

Sandy opened his mouth to protest, but Mal took hold of his brother’s hand and used the skin-to-skin contact to send thoughts of reassurance and urge him to silence. Sandy’s eyes widened at this unexpected display of power. After a moment Mal felt an answering wave of agreement tinged with pride. He smiled and bade the puzzled outspeaker farewell.