The Twisted Citadel

by Sara Douglass

Axis gave a short laugh, remembering that time so long ago when he had loved two women, and thought to have them both. "How did I manage it? Not well, Maxel. What happened tonight?"

  "Ishbel came to me, told me she loved me, that she wanted us to remake our marriage."

  "And you said?"

  "Ravenna is pregnant, and I feel responsible for her--"

  "Ah."

  "--so I told Ishbel that it was impossible. Axis, you have no idea how guilty I felt walking away from Ishbel."

  "You can still assume responsibility for Ravenna's child and take Ishbel back as your wife."

  Maximilian stared at his hands and didn't say anything.

  "Do you want to take Ishbel back as your wife, Maxel?" Axis asked softly.

  "I don't know. Everything between us...there has always been such dishonesty and distrust, such--"

  "Depth of emotion?"

  "Such mismanagement, Axis. Do I love her? Once I thought I did, then when I found her with Isaiah, and our daughter dead, then I was certain I hated her. There is such distance between us. She has for years believed that the Lord of Elcho Falling would only ever bring her entire world to despair and dismay, and tonight...well, tonight I fulfilled that prophecy for her."

  Now it was Axis who said nothing, watching Maximilian and allowing the man to talk it out.

  "There is so much else I need to concentrate on, Axis. Elcho Falling, and whatever has happened to Kanubai. DarkGlass Mountain, and these damned Isembaardian generals who distrust me and doubtless plot against me. I do not need to be distracted by women just now."

  Axis gave a slight shrug.

  "Ravenna hates Ishbel," Maximilian continued. "For months she has spoken of her in nothing but dark terms and dismal tones. Her constant harping sets my teeth on edge. Tonight, as Ravenna and I walked away from Ishbel, Ravenna thought I was having second thoughts about rejecting Ishbel."

  "Were you?"

  Maximilian ignored the question. "Ravenna pulled me into the Land of Dreams, and there she showed me a vision."

  "Of what?"

  "Of Elcho Falling laid siege by an army of misshapen creatures, and with Icarii and human alike lying in piles of the dead. A creature, a dark nameless formless thing, walked to the gates of Elcho Falling, and they opened and Ishbel crawled forth and welcomed the creature into the citadel. It told her that it was glad she had done its bidding, not only in allowing it entry to Elcho Falling, but in my murder. Ravenna said that if I again took Ishbel as my wife, then the vision would become a reality. Ishbel will murder me and betray Elcho Falling. She may not mean to, but she will do it."

  "Ravenna has a dark and bitter twist to her, Maxel."

  "But what she showed me...I don't think she conjured that vision. It must be a true warning."

  "I once thought that Azhure was my deadly enemy, too, Maxel, and I mistreated her so horrifically she almost died. If she had died..." Axis shook his head. "Maxel, I saw a truth, but I misinterpreted it so badly I almost lost the woman without whom...well, without whom I would have accomplished none of what later I managed. Trust your heart, Maxel."

  "Hearts can be wrong."

  Again Axis shrugged. "What are you going to do?"

  "Raise Elcho Falling, one stone at a time."

  Madarin was waiting for Ishbel when she left the tent, the bundle carefully held in her arms.

  "I have arranged everything, my lady."

  She smiled at him. "Really? Where?"

  He led her back the way Isaiah had originally brought her. It was just on dawn now, and soft light permeated the crowded lines of horses and tents and equipment and campfires. Overhead, one of the Icarii drifted down toward a group crouched about one of the fires, while everywhere sleepy men emerged into the new day, yawning and stretching stiff, cold limbs.

  "I am glad I can finally be of service to you, my lady," Madarin said as they walked. "Having saved my life, there is nothing I will not now do for you."

  "I shall not ask anything too corrupt of you, Madarin, but whatever else you can give me, I shall be glad enough of. I think that...oh gods, Madarin, where did you find that?"

  Madarin grinned as Ishbel stopped in her tracks and stared ahead. He was a middle-aged man, scarred and toughened by years in the military, and he had thought himself way past deriving pleasure from watching the wondering surprise of a lovely woman, but he supposed that perhaps he wasn't so hardened as he'd thought.

  Ishbel was staring at the tent Madarin had sourced for her. Before she'd gone to find Isaiah, she had asked Madarin to find her a tent of her own. She was sick of sharing with others as if she were a stateless refugee, and she'd resolved that she would now house herself in a manner which befitted her new determination to be her own woman.

  She'd imagined that Madarin would find for her one of the small, grayish canvas tents that soldiers used.

  It might be cramped and lowly, but it would be hers.

  Instead, he had found for Ishbel a magnificence that was more beautiful even than Isaiah's scarlet extravagance.

  The tent was of a similar size and shape to Isaiah's--full square, and large enough to hold within it a large canopied bed, a dining or conference table, and an area set about with cushions and low stools for more casual conversing--but instead of being scarlet it was of a vivid blue, picked out with gold and silver braiding, and hung about with tiny bells and golden tassels.

  The tent itself was extraordinary enough, but the great pennant that fluttered from its pinnacle was almost miraculously lovely.

  It had been sewn with cloth of a blue far more vivid than that of the tent. On this field of blue someone had stitched a device that left Ishbel momentarily speechless.

  The device depicted an outstretched woman's arm, pale-skinned and delicately fingered. About the arm coiled a slim golden rope, its coils and knots intricate about the upper part of the woman's arm, but uncoiling to simplicity by the time it reached her wrist.

  Behind the woman's hand was depicted the faint outline of a rising sun.

  "I have been working on that pennant for many months," Madarin said softly, "and looking for the opportunity to give it to you for weeks now. I wanted to give you something, as you had given me my life--something that represented who and what you are."

  "Madarin..." Ishbel didn't know what to say, or how to thank him.

  "The tent," Madarin said, his voice a little choked at the tears gleaming in Ishbel's eyes, "is a spare tent that Isaiah carries with him on campaigns. It can be used by him if his usual scarlet tent is damaged, or it can be used for a visiting, or captured, king. I do not think he will mind that now you use it."

  Ishbel wiped away a tear, then turned to Madarin and made a slight bow. "Thank you, Madarin. You have no idea what you have done for me this day."

  The tent was simply but comfortably furnished. Ishbel washed, then unwrapped the goblet. She stood a while, staring at the beautifully caged glass, running a soft fingertip over the frogs gamboling about the reeds.

  Then she lay down to sleep, curling her naked body about the goblet under the blanket.

  She sighed, and drifted into sleep to the goblet's soft refrain.

  Hold me, soothe me, love me.

  Ishbel slept, and for the first time in many years, she did not dream.

  An hour or two into sleep, Ishbel's arms relaxed enough that the Goblet of the Frogs rolled slightly away from her body. The goblet dislodged the covering blanket as it moved, exposing its rim to the night air.

  For long minutes after that movement there was nothing but stillness, then something stirred within the yawning mouth of the goblet.

  The darkness within the goblet bulged, then something emerged, jumped across Ishbel's white arm--causing her to stir a little, but not wake--and leaped down silently to the floor.

  It was a large gray rat.

  It paused a moment, looking about the tent, its dark eyes gleaming, then it scampered for the door and slid underneath its loose canvas bottom.

  Minut
es later it was moving about the boundary of the encampment, scurrying from shadow to shadow, until it reached open ground and was free to race southward across the snow-covered plains.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Sky Peaks Pass

  Ravenna stood in the tent she shared with her mother and Maximilian. She had not returned immediately to this tent after Maximilian had left her, but had walked a while in the night, thinking.

  "Maximilian acknowledged you before Ishbel?" Venetia said. She was a striking woman, in her dark coloring and beauty much like her daughter, but with more warmth about her eyes and mouth.

  Ravenna folded a blanket from the bed she shared with Maximilian, then shook it out and began folding it over again. "Yes."

  She glanced at her mother and gave a small smile. "You are surprised."

  "Yes, I am."

  "Well--I think he regrets it now. We argued over Ishbel, and he walked away from me, angry. I think he went back to her. Has he come here?"

  Venetia shook her head. "Ravenna, you can't stand between those two, even with that child you are carrying."

  "Mother, I have no choice. I--"

  "Why? Why? Ravenna, I do not understand this desperate clinging to a man! No marsh witch needs a man the way you seem to want to cling to Maximilian!"

  Venetia stopped, took a deep breath and moderated her tone. "Maximilian loves Ishbel and is uncomfortable with you as his lover--you must know this. None of this makes sense to me."

  Ravenna took her mother's hand, and they sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "When I first came back from the Land of Dreams, that night of the storm, I appeared on your doorstep with Maximilian and StarDrifter. Remember?"

  Venetia nodded.

  "We talked," Ravenna said. "I told you that I'd felt something darker coming, something from another world."

  "Yes, I remember."

  "I said I felt as if the world was about to pull apart."

  "Yes."

  "I was not entirely honest with you. I did not tell you all I had seen or come to understand."

  Ravenna paused, choosing her words carefully. "Maximilian and Elcho Falling, and through them this land, are under dire threat, Mother. There is something coming, something vile, something which will wrench apart this entire world."

  "Ravenna--"

  "Ishbel is its servant. Not willingly, nor even consciously, but in some manner she is the catalyst of disaster. If Maximilian takes her back as wife...I am not sure how, nor even why, but if he does that, then he is lost, and Elcho Falling is lost, and all falls into catastrophe."

  Ravenna gently stroked her mother's hand. "That is why I act as I do. That is why I fight to keep Maximilian away from Ishbel, and why, in the end, I conceived this child. I do not know if Maxel is strong enough to resist Ishbel's dangerous charm. Tonight he kept turning back to her, so I took him into the Land of Dreams and showed him what had been shown to me."

  "And?"

  "He was angry. I showed him what he did not want to know. He turned from me and walked away."

  "Ravenna..." Venetia did not know how to put what she needed to say. "Maximilian is a powerful man, one who knows his own mind. You can't force him to do anything."

  "I know, and that is why I am terrified he won't listen to me."

  "Ravenna, you said the child...you conceived the child because you were afraid that you would not, in the end, be able to keep Maximilian from Ishbel. How does the child help?"

  "How? This is a son I carry, Mother. Maximilian's heir. The next Lord of Elcho Falling should Maximilian fail. Or be tempted into ruination."

  That pronouncement stunned Venetia into a momentary silence. Marsh women ensured they only ever conceived daughters. They had no use for male children, their world being an entirely feminine one, save for those occasions when they went to men to get with child.

  "A son? What use do you have for a son, Ravenna?"

  "Not for me, mother. For Elcho Falling. A new lord, should Maximilian fall."

  Venetia stood up, pulling her hand from Ravenna's grasp. She moved to stand by the brazier and held out her hands, as if she were cold.

  As indeed she was. Cold penetrated to the very depths of her soul, but Venetia did not think the heat from the brazier would help that chill.

  What in the name of all gods was Ravenna doing? She thought to toy in something that was far, far beyond her, and Venetia did not like to think of the consequences.

  Ravenna rose to her feet and moved to where Maximilian had left his pack. She rummaged within it for a moment, Venetia turning to watch her, then she straightened, a bundle in her hands.

  "Ravenna! You cannot take the Weeper!"

  "It is too dangerous to leave in Maximilian's hands. This bronze statue contains a great and powerful mystery, and may aid me to...oh!"

  Venetia came over. "Ravenna? What happened?"

  "The damn thing hissed at me!"

  "Leave it, Ravenna! The Weeper is not yours, nor is Elcho Falling's destiny your concern. Why can't you see sense?"

  Ravenna hugged the cloth-wrapped bronze statue close, even though its hissing was now distinctly audible. "I am going to do everything I can, Mother, to ensure that Elcho Falling--"

  "Put that down."

  Both women turned to face the tent entrance.

  Maximilian stood there, one hand still holding back the flap of canvas that served as a door. "Put it down, Ravenna."

  "Maxel," Ravenna said, "I was just--"

  "Put it down!"

  She held his eyes for a long moment, then very quietly and with great deliberation laid the Weeper on the bed.

  Maximilian walked forward, retrieved the Weeper, then brushed past Ravenna to where his pack lay to one side of the bed.

  "Did Ishbel take you back?" Ravenna said.

  "I didn't go to Ishbel," he said, keeping the Weeper under one arm as he stuffed a few shirts that were draped over a chair into his pack. "I went to talk to Axis and Isaiah."

  "About?" Ravenna said.

  "About matters we needed to discuss!" Maximilian snapped, throwing the pack over his shoulder.

  "Where are you going?" Ravenna said.

  "I'm moving into my command tent. You and Venetia can keep this one. This camp is moving onto a war footing and I don't have time for--"

  "Me?" Ravenna said.

  Maximilian looked at her, very steadily, then allowed his eyes to drop deliberately slowly to the Weeper.

  "For disloyalty, Ravenna."

  "It is Ishbel who--"

  "It was not Ishbel who just tried to take the Weeper!" Maximilian moved toward the door. "Serge and Doyle will be tending me. One of them will collect the rest of my belongings."

  He paused in the doorway, looked at Ravenna a moment, nodded at Venetia, and left.

  "You pushed too hard," Venetia said, "and assumed too much. He's gone now."

  Ravenna shot her a dark look before sitting abruptly on the bed.

  Axis slept for four or five hours before he rose, washed perfunctorily, and dressed.

  It had been a little over twenty-four hours since Maximilian had declared himself as the Lord of Elcho Falling to Isaiah's army and the tattered remnants of Georgdi and Malat's forces. A great deal had happened since and Axis wanted to scout the camp to get a sense of what the soldiers--and more particularly Isaiah's generals--thought and were doing. Loyalties continued to balance on a knife edge, and Axis needed to know which way they teetered.

  The camp appeared fairly quiet, which reassured him. Men were going about the usual business of soldiers in camp; there were no tight groups of whispering men, no furtive eyes sliding away from Axis', no glaring gaps in the tent lines where men had decamped through the night.

  He paused in amazement when he saw the blue tent with the pennant fluttering above it. He recognized the symbolism instantly--Ishbel--and he also recognized the man standing outside the entrance to the tent.

  Madarin, the soldier Ishbel had healed of a twisted bowel when
Axis had escorted Ishbel south from the FarReach Mountains. That occasion had been when Axis had become very aware that Ishbel had been far more than just a "ward" of the Coil.

  "Madarin," Axis said amiably, strolling over, "I see you have found new duties."

  "Lady Ishbel saved my life; it belongs to her. She called me to her service last night."

  Axis nodded at the tent. "Ishbel is inside?"

  "Asleep, my lord."

  "I do not wish to disturb her, Madarin. Tell me, how does she?"

  "Well, my lord."

  "Hmmm." Axis stared at the tent again. "Where did this come from?"

  Madarin explained how Isaiah carried a spare ceremonial tent with his military column.

  "And the positioning of it?" Axis said. The tent was erected right at the edge of the main encampment, close to the tents of Maximilian, StarDrifter, Isaiah, and most of the other senior members of the army, as well as the large tent Isaiah--and now Maximilian--used for command briefings and meals. Yet Ishbel's tent was set slightly apart. Not much, but just enough to lend whoever inhabited it a certain eloquent and mysterious reserve...and command.

  "I chose this location," Madarin said.

  "Then you have done well for your lady," Axis said. "The pennant?"

  "I stitched it for the lady myself," Madarin said.

  Axis opened his mouth to comment, saw Madarin's face, and decided it better to leave doing so. He gave the soldier a nod of farewell.

  As he moved through the encampment Axis paused and spoke briefly to several men, stopping to have a longer conversation with Insharah, the man with whom he'd ridden north from Aqhat to collect Ishbel.

  Insharah was now a senior commander within the Isembaardian force, having proved himself over this past year more than capable of promotion. He was still a good friend of Axis', however, and as such he was Axis' best conduit back into the heart and soul of the Isembaardian force.

  "Tell me the mood," Axis said, once they had exchanged greetings.

  "One of shock," Insharah said. "First this Maximilian, who had spent so many weeks trailing along with the column as a captured king, declaring himself lord of this or that and taking control of the army from Isaiah. Maximilian is a complete unknown, and what we'd seen of Isaiah had not suggested to us that he would just hand control of the entire army to Maximilian. No one quite knows what to make of it, Axis, or what to think.