Their glazed eyes slowly turned in my direction, and they both frowned at the intrusion.
“Emperor of Nevertide,” one of them slurred. “We are celebrating the end—will you bother someone else? This is a ritual. All beasts must mourn what is lost, and sentries are no different.”
“Ritual?” I spat. “I only see two broken fools, drinking like cowards.”
“How dare you?” the second blustered. “We have given our very souls to this land—we have watched it thrive for centuries, and now it is our burden to watch it fall.”
I tried to keep my temper in check. There was absolutely no point in trying to tell them that Nevertide had never ‘thrived’ under their watch, and that it wasn’t the end—not yet. Not while we had men and women still willing to fight for it.
“I was healed by the immortal waters,” I began impatiently. “I was close to death, wounded by the shadow. But it healed me—completely, not even a scar. When I emerged, I was told by three of your kind that I was now part of the brotherhood, that I was immortal…I want to know, is this true?”
That got their attention.
Both of them were looking at me with varying degrees of shock and fury.
“Those waters are sacred—not for the likes of you!”
I rolled my eyes.
“What does it mean?” I asked again, the palm of my hand resting against the pommel of my new sword. If I had to threaten them to get the answers I needed, I happily would.
“It means you are one of us,” muttered one of them. “Now the immortal waters have blessed you, you have obtained a degree of immortality, and will live many lifetimes after this one.”
“What does that mean exactly? Alive till the end of time? Impervious to weapons?” I asked, sick to death of their vague answers.
“We are not impervious to weapons,” the first minister sighed, as if my questions were some great philosophical debate that was wearing him down, “though we can be healed time and time again by the waters. And no, it does not mean to the end of time—eventually you will die, unless you preserve yourself within the waters.”
“And I will age?” I questioned, though the answer was right in front of me.
“You will age.”
And Ruby won’t.
“How old are you?” I asked.
The Impartial Ministers looked at one another and laughed, hacking and wheezing.
“We have lived for nine hundred years,” one replied. “Almost a millennium.”
I nodded, speechless.
That’s old.
“But I’m not in any way now tied to Nevertide—I mean, I don’t have to remain here to stay alive?”
Since the first conversation with the ministers it had weighed on my mind, that somehow my life might be inextricably linked to the land.
The one minister who had answered my questions eyed me with curiosity.
“No. You’re not physically linked with this land, Ashbik. Though, I must say, it is a curious question for one who seems so determined to save it…I wonder if that answer pleases or displeases you?”
For once the Impartial Ministers had hit the nail on the head. The sentry’s insight was surprising, and for a moment I didn’t know how to answer him—or if I should even bother.
“I don’t want my life to be linked to Nevertide,” I replied slowly, wondering, even as the words left my mouth, how true that statement was.
The minister picked up his cup once again, and drained the liquid with a hearty gulp.
“You may find,” he continued, wiping away droplets of the vile liquid that spilled onto his beard, “that though you are not physically linked to this land, your heart and soul may have something different to say on the matter.”
“Perhaps,” I murmured, not wishing to discuss the issue any further. I knew where my heart was linked—and it was to Ruby, and that was all.
“I’ll leave you to stew in your misery,” I replied, moving back toward the door. The Impartial Ministers both raised their cups once more, and went back to muttering between themselves.
I shut the door behind me, relieved to be away from them.
Walking back outside to the palace grounds, I tried to ignore what the ministers had said about being linked to Nevertide. There was no use dwelling on it anyway—there might not be a Nevertide by tomorrow, not unless we found a way to halt the entity. Or, if the team found a way for the portal to be locked, we’d be stuck here, fighting the entity’s army till we no longer could.
As I stepped outside, I shivered in the cold air.
The evening was silent. The sentries guarding the borders were tense and anxious, murmuring quietly to one another or not at all. The guards stood watch silently, their gaze never leaving the sky for more than a few moments.