The Twisted Citadel

by Sara Douglass

  She pulled her arm from Axis' grasp. "I was safe. I wouldn't have fallen."

  Axis was still staring at her, and Inardle realized how frightened he'd been. "I'm sorry."

  "Your wing isn't stable enough to support you, Inardle."

  "I know, Axis." The guilt was biting even deeper now. How could she tell Axis that she would have been fine, that it would have taken only a fraction of her power to heal her wing then and there so she could take to the skies? Inardle was very much afraid that she might have to allow herself to remain crippled, just to keep Axis at her side.

  "Stars," he muttered, and turned away a little.

  Inardle didn't know what to say. She was sorry he was angry with her, but she was also a little flattered that he had been that frightened. "I'll be more careful, Axis."

  He took a deep breath, letting go his fear-driven anger, and nodded. "Has Garth seen your shoulder and wing since we've arrived?"

  "Yes. He was here about an hour ago. He gave me a massage."

  "Good for him. What did he say about the wing?"

  "That neither he nor I would know for a week or more if it would heal enough for flight. How is Maximilian?"

  Axis gave a little shrug. "He is well enough. He says he will raise Elcho Falling within two or thee days."

  Something in his face softened as he regarded her. "Come to bed," he said, and Inardle smiled, relieved they had moved past the subject of her wing.

  "How well you have made your new bed, sister."

  Inardle gave a soft cry, waking from her light sleep with a jerk, trying to disentangle herself from an equally disoriented Axis.

  "Shit!" she heard Axis mutter.

  Eleanon, she said to her brother, keeping the communication blocked from Axis, you have returned.

  We have a part to play here, sister, he said. Remember it.

  Axis managed to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed, and draw the sheet over Inardle's nakedness all in the one smooth movement.

  "Eleanon," he said, "do you take every open balcony door as an invitation?"

  "I could sense my sister in here," Eleanon said. He was standing just inside the doorway, outlined in moonlight, and now he made his slow way inside as Axis rose and pulled on a pair of trousers. "I had no idea in what company I would find her." He paused. "Nor that I would find her so injured."

  Axis had found a taper and used it to light a lamp, and he picked it up and moved closer to Eleanon.

  "Have you seen Maximilian?" he said.

  "Not yet," said Eleanon. "I thought to greet my sister first. Inardle, what has happened to your wing?

  And your shoulder...it moves stiffly...who has beaten you? Axis?"

  Stop it, Eleanon, Inardle said to him. Don't toy with either me or him.

  "Eleanon," Inardle said. "You need to see Maximilian--"

  "Has Axis got you so firmly under his command that now you echo his every word, sister?" Eleanon said.

  "Have you forgotten that you are Lealfast, and not Icarii, to fawn so at his feet?"

  "That is enough, Eleanon," Axis snapped. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You are under Maximilian's ultimate command, and beneath that, under mine. And under me, had you thought to make some enquiries before you started to make yet a further fool of yourself, you would find yourself under Inardle's command as my lieutenant."

  "My, my," Eleanon said softly, his eyes sliding to Inardle. "She has done well for herself, has she not."

  Inardle met his eyes without a flinch.

  Axis stopped himself from hitting Eleanon only by reminding himself that Inardle was present. "Get out of here, Eleanon. You need to see Maximilian. He is expecting you."

  "As you and my sister were not," Eleanon said, now edging toward the balcony door.

  "In the morning, you can report back to me," Axis said. "Now get out!"

  Eleanon paused in the doorway. "Do you think the StarMan actually cares for you, Inardle? Do you think you are anything but a slight diversion before he reunites with his only lover, Azhure? He will break your heart."

  With that, he was gone.

  Axis turned back to Inardle. "I'm sorry."

  Inardle was not sure what he was apologizing for. She gave a slight shrug. "It doesn't matter."

  Axis sat down on the bed, studying her carefully. "What he said at the end about Azhure, does matter."

  Inardle did not look at him. She didn't want to talk about Azhure. All she wanted to do now was think about Eleanon, and what his arrival meant.

  Choices.

  "We've become very good at making love," Axis said softly, "but not so good at talking. You asked me once, that night you first came to my bed, if you were a novelty to me. I meant it when I said no. Neither are you a replacement for a lost love, nor are you someone with whom I am merely marking time until, as Eleanon put it, I reunite with the only woman I have ever loved."

  He gave a short laugh. "Azhure hasn't ever been the only woman I have loved, Inardle, and I wasn't always true to her. And she is dead, now, and I no longer so. We live in different worlds. I do not yearn for her, and--"

  "Does she yearn for you, do you think?"

  "Perhaps," Axis said, "but I cannot live my life here wondering what Azhure is thinking or doing. What I

  do here makes no difference to her, or to what she is feeling."

  Inardle remembered all the stories she had heard of Axis. How he'd justified hurting both Faraday and Azhure by thinking he could have both. She thought of what Ishbel had told her about Salome a few days ago, when they'd broken their day's ride to share a meal of bread and cheese at noon, how Salome's grandmother had been a former and discarded lover of Axis' and StarDrifter's who had come to a terrible death because of their lack of care.

  Axis, Inardle fully realized, could justify anything to himself at any point, if he wanted it badly enough.

  As can I.

  "I don't care about Azhure," she said, still not looking at Axis.

  He slid over the bed to her, running soft fingers over her face, smoothing her tousled hair back over her forehead. "Yes, you do," he said. "And you shouldn't, Inardle, you shouldn't."

  He kissed her jaw, running his mouth down to her neck.

  Inardle shuddered, wishing that, just sometimes, she could control her reaction to him.

  "I love the taste of your frost," he whispered, one of his hands now pushing the sheet away from her breasts.

  So much for talking about Azhure, Inardle thought, or about what we feel for each other, or mean each to the other.

  "Axis..." she said, trying to find the strength to push him away and the courage to finally speak some truth to him, but suddenly he sprang back from her anyway, and stared into the night.

  "My brother has decided he wants to be born," he said.

  There was no sleeping after that, nor lovemaking, nor talk of how they felt for each other, nor any revelations of truth. Axis pulled on his shirt and boots, and paced restlessly about the chamber before finally slumping into a chair.

  Inardle sighed, as softly as she could, and rose, and washed and dressed as well.

  "You don't want to go to StarDrifter?" she asked Axis finally as they sat in their respective chairs in opposite corners of the dimly lit chamber.

  He shook his head. "StarDrifter is with Salome. There's just the two of them."

  "No midwife?"

  Another shake of Axis' head. "Salome needs no midwife. StarDrifter is all she needs, to sing out my brother."

  A shiver ran down Inardle's spine. "You can sense what is happening?"

  "Yes."

  "And the birth is going well?"

  "My brother is being born, yes. It is going well enough."

  He was very much on edge, and Inardle wondered about it. "You've had brothers before."

  He glanced at her then, very cool, and Inardle thought she might have gone too far.

  "Two brothers," he said. "Borneheld and Gorgrael. Both of them brought their worlds, and mine, t
o ruin."

  "I am sure this new brother will not--"

  "Who knows what any of StarDrifter's sons will bring."

  "Axis, what's wrong? Do you want me to leave?"

  "No. I do not want you to leave, Inardle." He sighed, stretching out his legs. "I have been StarDrifter's only son, only reputable son for so long that perhaps I now find it hard to accept he has another."

  It was a glib enough statement, and Inardle accepted it only because it was obvious that Axis did not want to elaborate on how he really felt.

  She settled back in her chair as well.

  Two or three hours passed.

  It was close to dawn when Inardle woke with a start. She was stiff and sore from having slept in the chair, and for a moment was disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings.

  Then she realized Axis was standing in the middle of the chamber, looking toward the door which led to the internal corridor.

  It opened, and StarDrifter and Salome entered.

  StarDrifter was carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle.

  Inardle sat up warily in the chair. She was certain that whatever scene was to follow she should not be here, and glanced at the balcony door.

  Don't, Axis whispered in her mind. Stay. Don't fall.

  "Very well," Inardle murmured. She thought about standing, then decided that sitting unobtrusively in the chair was probably the best she could manage under the circumstances.

  StarDrifter and Salome, who by now had advanced to where Axis stood, ignored her completely.

  "Look," StarDrifter said softly, and held out the baby to Axis.

  Axis hesitated, then took the child, balancing StarDancer in his arms before singing him a snatch of melody.

  Inardle looked at Salome. She, like StarDrifter, was gazing at the child. She looked very weary, but also happy, and leaned in against StarDrifter as if he were the center of her world.

  It brought sudden tears to Inardle's eyes, and she had to look down and brush them away.

  "StarDancer," Axis said, then he turned around, held the baby out, and said, "Inardle?"

  Inardle stared, unable to believe he would do this. She rose, managed to walk over, and took the child into her arms.

  "You've not held a baby before," StarDrifter said.

  "Not one as important as this," said Inardle, although StarDrifter was correct enough. She was terrified she was going to drop him and, worse, was unsettled by the knowing look in the boy's eyes. She supposed he was pretty enough, for a baby, but those deep blue eyes, fixed on hers...

  Inardle--what secrets you hide!

  It was StarDancer, and Inardle jerked, badly enough that Axis reached out and took the baby from her.

  He caught her eyes as he did so, and she saw empathy there.

  Gods, she thought, he has no idea at all.

  "He is a beautiful boy," said Axis, handing him straight back to his father. "How joyous you must be."

  That might have sounded better, thought Inardle, if Axis' voice had actually been somewhat happy instead of wooden.

  StarDrifter gave his son a cryptic smile, then he and Salome said a quiet good night and left the chamber.

  Neither Axis nor Inardle said anything for a long minute.

  "So," Inardle said finally, desperate for something to say, "you have a brother."

  "So," said Axis, turning away from her and walking over to the chair where was draped his jacket, "I

  have a brother."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Serpent's Nest

  Ishbel sat in the room that had been hers as archpriestess. It was dawn outside now, the light filtering through the shuttered windows, and Ishbel was cold and stiff from having sat virtually unmoving for eight or nine hours.

  She had not slept in all that time.

  Instead she had been remembering--her life as archpriestess, as a novice, and as the girl before Aziel had rescued her and brought her to Serpent's Nest. She remembered how the Serpent god had exhorted her to leave the mountain to marry an unknown and meaningless king on the other side of the continent, and how she had railed against that fate.

  She remembered how she had clung to the promise that one day she would return home.

  And here she was.

  This room had been everything to Ishbel for all her years as archpriestess. Within its walls she had found peace and security, and forgetfulness from the horrors of her childhood. When she had left to go to Maximilian, Ishbel had visualized herself coming back to this room, over and over, flinging open the door and sinking down to the bed to bury her face in her beloved old pillow, finding peace and security once more.

  To come home.

  She had wanted to come home so much.

  Ishbel had assumed that she would feel something when she reentered the room. Not the incandescent joy she'd once thought, but perhaps some lingering sweetness.

  But there had been nothing.

  The room had been a stranger to her. It was empty of everything--memories, emotion, meaning. Ishbel had lived over twelve years within this room, but she could barely remember any of it.

  Everything had changed.

  She became aware that it was a new day. Very slowly Ishbel rose from the chair, pausing now and again as a muscle twinged or a tendon creaked.

  I am getting old, she thought, and was then consumed with sadness at that realization. Not so old, surely, not yet.

  She walked to the twin windows, folding back the shutters and closing her eyes for a long moment to enjoy the flood of new-day sunlight on her face. Then, still at the windows, she looked to the west.

  There was nothing on the horizon, but surely Armat couldn't be far away.

  Armat and Ravenna.

  Turning away from the window, Ishbel walked to a mirror hung on the opposite wall. Her hair had been neatly coiled about her head when she'd sat down, but at some point during the night the pins had loosened, and now hair hung in some disarray about her face. She smoothed the hair away, studying the new lines around her eyes and mouth.

  Lines of strain, and experience, and pain and love.

  Tears flooded her eyes, and she rubbed them away, then suddenly pulled all the pins from her hair and shook her head, the hair tumbling down around her shoulders and back.

  Taking a deep breath, she leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her head so that the brightening sunlight illumed the crown of her head, then carefully parted the hair.

  When she'd been archpriestess, Ishbel had done this several times a week at dawn. It had been a comfort to her, and a pride, and a reassurance.

  It was not something she'd done at all since she'd left Serpent's Nest to marry Maximilian, and most certainly not whenever she'd been living with him as his wife.

  She'd always been most careful about brushing her hair in Maximilian's presence.

  Now she studied her scalp, frowning into the mirror, fingers parting the hair this way and that.

  It was gone.

  When Ishbel had been inducted into the Coil as a priestess, she had been marked with the sign of the Serpent: a coiled serpent rising to strike. But because the Great Serpent had told Aziel that one day Ishbel would be required to leave Serpent's Nest and live among ordinary people, they had marked her carefully so that the mark would not be observable.

  When she was fifteen, Aziel had shaved Ishbel's head, and marked her entire scalp with the sign of the serpent.

  Then her hair had gradually grown back, hiding the mark, although Ishbel could always see it when she'd parted her hair and looked.

  But now it was gone. Faded away, just as the mark of the Manteceros had faded from Maximilian's biceps.

  It was gone, and she was glad.

  It was time to move on. The mark had gone, her former life was gone, and everything it had ever meant to her was gone.

  There was only one place that was home now.

  Rearranging her hair into a loose plait over one shoulder, Ishbel straightened her gown, then left the room, closing the door behind her
.

  She did not once look back as she walked down the corridor.

  Ishbel went to the chamber Madarin had found for her, washed, dressed carefully in a fresh gown, and combed out her hair, redressing it in the long plait.

  She went first to see Salome.

  "I knew you'd had the baby," Ishbel said, sitting in a chair close by Salome, who was nursing the child.

  StarDrifter was leaning against the wall just to one side of Salome's chair, watching both his wife and the baby, and Ishbel was not even sure that he was aware she had entered the room.

  Salome raised her eyes from her son and looked at Ishbel. "You can still have him, if you like."

  Ishbel smiled, a little sadly, remembering the jest Salome had made that day they'd become friends.

  Ishbel had still been grieving over the loss of her daughter (was still grieving over the loss of her daughter)

  and Salome had pretended indifference to her own pregnancy and offered the baby to Ishbel.

  "Maximilian might be suspicious," Ishbel said, carrying on the jest.

  "You will have another baby, one day," said Salome. "I had Ezra, and had thought that ended my childbearing, but then my life ended and began anew, and with it came this baby."

  "Do you think so?" Ishbel said softly, her eyes still on StarDancer, who had now finished his suckling and had turned his head to regard Ishbel.

  Salome wiped her son's mouth. "I am certain so, Ishbel. Why, it would take less than an hour to walk up to Maximilian, and--"

  "Didn't you give me this advice before?" Ishbel said.

  "At least we are consistent," StarDrifter said, finally acknowledging Ishbel's presence. He leaned over Salome and lifted the child gently from her arms. "Look at my son, Ishbel. Is he not beautiful?"

  "He is very beautiful indeed," said Ishbel. "And so aware."

  "Would you like to hold him?" StarDrifter said.

  "No," said Ishbel. "Do you mind?"

  "I understand," said StarDrifter.

  Ishbel left Salome and StarDrifter shortly after, and went in search of Maximilian. She found him in a large chamber that overlooked the inner courtyard and beyond, to the road that led west and up which Armat would approach. Axis, Egalion, BroadWing, and Ezekiel were with him, sharing some breakfast over charts spread on a large central table.