“Prince Sardec has been fighting with demons,” said Jazeray. “Armed with the same blade his father used at the Ford he vanquished a monster of the Elder World.”
“Is this true?” asked Asea. Sardec felt a flash of pique at Jazeray. He was put in a position of lying about what had happened or looking a fool in the eyes of one of the First. Jazeray was going to make him admit to his own dishonour in the mine. One day he would get Jazeray for this, Sardec’s promised himself. Jazaray and that accursed half-breed who put him in this position.
“Not quite,” said Sardec.
“Surely, my dear friend, it’s either true or it isn’t?” said Jazeray.
“My force encountered a demon, an Ultari. One of my soldier’s slew it.”
Sardec was not quite sure but he felt that just for a moment more than polite interest flickered in the Lady’s eyes when she heard the spider demon mentioned.
“With your sword, or so rumour has it,” said Jazeray. “Of course, we are not ones to take such rumours at face value.”
“The story is correct, sir.”
“It is good to know that humans now have such a high opinion of themselves that they think to make free with their officer’s swords,” Jazeray said.
“It was a human who used your blade?” asked Asea.
“It was. The sword is now being purified.”
“There was a time when a human would have been burned for such insolence. Salamanders would have eaten their souls,” said Jazeray. It pained Sardec to hear these words, the more so because he agreed with Jazeray’s sentiments.
“Thank the Light that such times are in the past,” said Asea. She came from a truly radical branch of her family Sardec recalled. She had been among those who had supported the freeing of the human thralls and the creation of Parliament’s House Inferior. Before that she had been one of the Scarlet Queen’s strongest supporters during the Great Schism. Still, so beautiful was she that he was perhaps prepared to forgive her even this.
“I confess I am intrigued by your tale, for reasons of my own,” she said. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of taking wine with me.”
Asea gave him a smile that warmed his heart. He gave her a formal bow and gestured for her to pass so gracefully that his dancing master would have been proud. Asea looked at Jazeray, apparently providing him with a cue.
“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.