The Ruthless

She would have liked to be a few inches taller too. Such things shouldn’t matter, but they did. She made a mental note to have the platforms on her shoes adjusted accordingly.

Silk was wrapped around her, tight on the arms and legs. Over this was draped a violet gown with loose sleeves and high shoulders that curled to points. A layer of gem-studded jewellery was added to that, and her face was painted; gold around the eyes and mouth, subtler tones elsewhere, smoothing the lines on her face and the youth of her skin, obscuring the age of the body to let the Deathless soul shine through.

A woman sang for permission to enter and Pari gave it. She was dressed in the uniform of a majordomo, tanzanite studs flashing at her throat. Her arrival automatically dismissed the other servants, who hurried away as she bowed deeply. ‘Welcome back, my lady.’

Pari looked at her full face blankly. ‘And you are?’

The woman laughed in delight, sounding briefly like a common child from the settlements below. Pari looked closer, noting that the woman’s skin was made up, that beneath it she was pale for a sky-born. She had clearly spent many years in the castle but had not started life there.

‘Wait,’ she added. ‘I know you … Don’t tell me.’ A number of names skipped through her mind. ‘It can’t be? Ami? Is it you?’

The woman clapped her hands. ‘Yes, my lady.’

They embraced, carefully so as not to upset Pari’s outfit. ‘My dear Ami, it is a delight to see you again. Look how you’ve grown! You were a slip of a girl the last I saw you.’

‘The cook and I are the best of friends,’ she replied with a smile.

‘It is always wise to be on the cook’s good side. I take it you’ve come to enjoy our food.’

‘Oh yes. So much better than what I had before. The Sapphire don’t know what they’re missing!’

‘Spoken like a true Tanzanite.’

Ami lifted her chin. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘Inform the High Lord that I will be with her shortly. And send Sho to me, I need to know what I’ve missed.’

‘I …’ Ami’s face folded in sadness. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but Sho is no longer with us. I have taken on his duties in accordance with your wishes.’

Pari looked again at Ami’s uniform, taking it in truly this time. So strange to see someone else in it. She had had many majordomos over her lifecycles, but for the last three, they had all been Sho or Sho’s mother. ‘Of course you have, I remember now. Tell me, did he die well?’

‘Oh yes. He was surrounded by family. They sang him on his way at the end, and we all took part. Even the crystals in the castle joined in.’

Pari closed her eyes, imagining what it must have been like. Tanzanite crystals grew throughout her castle, most of them clustered at its base but some wound through the upper floors and laced the walls. It was their power that kept her castle in the sky, and her people had long ago learned to sing and play music that resonated. It was seen as a good omen when the crystal sang back. ‘I wish I could have been here.’

‘Sho wished this too. He has left you some final words.’

‘Where did Sho get his hands on a message crystal?’

‘I don’t know, my lady.’

Pari smiled. ‘He always was a crafty one. Bring it to—no, it had better wait until after the meeting. Do I look ready to face High Lord Tanzanite? Be honest.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Pari nodded, feeling the statement to be true. In the Unbroken Age, it was said that there were those that could read the soul inside the body and know another’s intent even before they did. Pari had spent lifetimes trying to master the art, with limited success. She had developed instincts, senses for what another person might feel or do, but they were vague, and often hard to interpret.

‘How long have I been between lives?’

‘Sixteen years, my lady.’

‘Sixteen! I was told it would be fifteen years at most.’

‘Lord Taraka said there were complications with your vessel that had to be smoothed out.’

‘Ah.’ I wonder if that was the fault of my meddling or something else. ‘Is Varg here?’

‘Yes, my lady. He is camped with the courtyard traders to keep out of Lord Taraka’s sight. I know he is eager to speak with you.’

‘I’m sure he is. But he will have to wait. Is there anything else I should know before I meet with the other lords?’

Ami frowned as she considered the question. Clearly there were a lot of things and Ami was struggling to filter them. She’s still too easy to read, thought Pari, adding it to her list of things to attend to.

‘Never mind, Ami. If it isn’t on fire then I will deal with it after the High Lord. Have the others arrived yet?’

‘They are all waiting for you.’

Pari pursed her lips. She was tired from the rebirth but the High Lord was forcing her to attend before she had fully recovered. It was a low tactic. ‘Was this gathering overseen by Lord Taraka, by any chance?’

‘Yes, my lady. How did you guess?’

‘Bitter experience.’

Ami wisely made no comment, instead summoning servants to collect the back of Pari’s gown. It was time to face her peers.

The gentle flow of conversation ended as Pari entered the room. Ordinarily, she would have greeted the other Deathless Lords as they arrived, and granted them permission to enter. Ordinarily, it would be she, the Lady Pari, sitting in the chair opposite the door rather than her High Lord. However, on the day of a rebirthing ceremony, the usual laws were put aside.

She tried not to be hurt that of the six other Deathless that made House Tanzanite only three had bothered to attend her.

‘Lady Pari, welcome back to the realm of life.’ High Lord Priyamvada had stood, and the other two immortals followed a beat after. As was her preference, the High Lord had taken a tall body with an ample frame, the bright gold-violet of her gown a broad block of colour. It made Pari feel as if she was looking at a fortress rather than a person. Priyamvada’s high hat became a turret, and her full-lipped mouth a spout for dropping acid on any foolish enough to get too close.

Armoured in paint, that face gave nothing away. A golden tattoo sat like a star on her forehead, commemorating an old death wound gained long before the rest of the house had their first birth.

‘Thank you for holding my walls and my lands while I was gone,’ Pari replied. ‘Thank you for watching my people and keeping the Wild from their doors.’

Priyamvada gave a slight nod, and sat, allowing everyone else to do the same.

Once Pari’s gown had been properly arranged, the servants bowed and slipped away. She tried to catch Arkav’s eye but he was staring at the floor, his mind elsewhere. Despite the skilled work of his tailors she could see he’d lost weight, sharpening his features in a way she did not like.

Why does he ignore me? It’s as if none of us were here.

Lord Taraka indicated a desire to speak. His body had thickened during her absence, and he too was doing his best to compensate for living in a shorter vessel than his previous lifecycles. The many crystals around his neck tinkled delicately as he moved, before settling again on his bare chest. He was sometimes known as The Holder of Whispers, a literal title as well as a metaphorical one, for each crystal captured any words spoken nearby, and Taraka could make them speak at a touch. It was his job to keep a permanent record of oaths, agreements and indiscretions, to be dug up at the worst possible time. He also did a good line in secrets, holding dirt on everyone in the house save Priyamvada herself.

After he had received a nod from the High Lord, he began. ‘Allow me to add my personal welcome to that of the High Lord, Lady Pari. Your new body suits you well.’

‘You are too kind, my dear Taraka.’ One day, I’m going to enjoy making you suffer. She gave him her best smile to better disguise her thoughts.

‘Though I have brought Lord Arkav here so that he could witness your auspicious return, I regret to inform you that he cannot stay.’