Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  There was silence. After Priam’s incoherent madness of the past weeks, his end had been surprisingly peaceful.

  Finally it was Moryson who spoke. “The King is dead,” he said, and turned to Borneheld. “Long live the King.”

  A strange expression crossed Borneheld’s face, then Jayme pulled the amethyst ring of office from Priam’s finger and slipped it onto Borneheld’s thick digit. “Long live the King,” Jayme intoned. “King Borneheld.”

  Faraday, watching, experienced a feeling of unreality.

  Borneheld’s eyes, burning with naked triumph, met hers above the bed. “My Queen,” he said.

  Faraday slipped quietly into Judith’s chambers. She had spent the past three hours helping Judith and Embeth lay Priam’s body out. The passing of a King required formal ceremonies, prayers, rituals, and the washing and preparing of Priam’s body to lie in state. As Priam’s widow, Judith had overseen all of this, her fragile face calm, emotionless. Her demeanour, as always, gracious and regal. But Faraday had seen that Judith was close to collapse, and now wanted to make sure she was resting as comfortably as her grief would allow.

  Judith sat on a sofa by the fire, Embeth’s arm about her shoulder. Both women had glasses of brandy in their hands.

  Embeth smiled wryly as Faraday sank down beside Judith. “There can be no better time to get slightly drunk,” she said, “than in the hours just after your husband has died.”

  Faraday knew she must be remembering her own husband Ganelon’s death.

  Judith sniffed her tears back and put her glass down. Her porcelain skin was smudged and bruised under her eyes, evidence that she had not slept for many nights, and her golden hair was streaked and disordered. Poor Judith, Faraday thought, stroking the woman’s hair back into some semblance of order. What will you do with your life now Priam is dead?

  “Thank you, Faraday,” Judith managed, then cleared her throat and said, her voice stronger, “Priam and I both thank you for your kindness and support over the past three weeks.”

  Faraday smiled, but did not say anything. She hoped that she could be as gracious if ever faced with a comparable loss.

  They sat in silence for some time, then Judith stirred and took Faraday’s hand.

  “My dear, I hope you will forgive me for what I now say…but say it I must and, having seen you with Borneheld over the past weeks, I think I can trust you to hear it.”

  Faraday met Embeth’s eyes over Judith’s head.

  Judith abruptly picked up her glass and swallowed the last of her brandy. “Priam told me to name Axis his heir,” she said. “He did not want Borneheld to succeed him.”

  Faraday’s breathing stilled. What good would that do Axis now?

  “Artor save us!” Embeth whispered. “You cannot stand up in Borneheld’s court and say that Priam named Axis his heir!”

  Judith smiled bitterly and straightened her back. “I know, Embeth. I have no death wish. I believe Priam’s death was planned the instant he announced in audience that he wanted to seek an alliance with Axis.”

  Faraday stared at Judith, but decided against saying anything about the chalice. She had no idea who had ensorcelled the chalice, and the knowledge that it was ensorcelled would only distress Judith. She took Judith’s hand. “Why did Priam change his mind?”

  “Over past months,” Judith said, “Priam realised how mistaken he’d been never to accept Axis for the man he was—a brilliant war leader and a better prince than Borneheld ever would be.” She hesitated, glancing at Embeth. “I have told you this because Embeth has told me something of your feelings for Axis and that she encouraged you to marry Borneheld when you were racked with doubts.”

  “And for that I can never apologise enough,” said Embeth.

  Faraday bowed her head and thought for a moment. When she raised her eyes again they were brilliant with power.

  Judith and Embeth both gasped.

  “Let me tell you something about myself and about Axis,” she said, her voice as powerful as her eyes.

  She talked for over an hour, Embeth shakily pouring the three of them more brandy when she was halfway through.

  “Now that Borneheld is King, Axis is going to need all the help he can get,” Faraday finished. “Will you help?”

  Judith nodded her head, her eyes thoughtful. “Yes, I will, Faraday. It is what Priam would have wanted me to do…and it is what I want to do.” She paused. “And I think I know someone who may tip the balance in Axis’ favour.”

  Borneheld’s coronation was held the day after Priam was laid to rest. Clouds of war hung over Achar, and in times such as these, haste was called for.

  A public holiday was proclaimed, and colourful bunting hung out. Flags and pennants were hastily raised to honour the new King. A public feast would have been appropriate and appreciated, but there was no time to arrange it, so Borneheld simply ordered that barrels of wine and ale be available on every street corner so that the good citizens of Carlon could simply get drunk without the food.

  While the Carlonites partied in the streets, the actual coronation took place in the Chamber of the Moons. The entire court was present, every man, woman or child of noble blood crowded into the Chamber. The ceremony itself was officiated over by Jayme, who lowered the heavy gold circlet of office onto Borneheld’s head. As the trumpeting of horns far above them announced to the outside world that a new King had been crowned, Borneheld stood to receive the pledges of homage and fealty from his nobles.

  Beside him, Faraday sat on a smaller throne, a simple coronet on her head, remembering the night she had first seen Axis in this chamber. One day, she prayed to the Mother, I will sit with Axis on this dais.

  The most important nobles approached the dais first. Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale, both down from Jervois Landing for the coronation; Baron Ysgryff of Nor, his exotic features fixed in an expression of the sincerest loyalty as he pledged himself to Borneheld; Earl Burdel of Arcness, Borneheld’s friend and ally and now, no doubt, expecting handsome rewards for having supported Borneheld in the past; Baron Greville of Tarantaise, as volubly sincere as Baron Ysgryff had been; and, finally among the higher nobles, the lords of the provinces, came Faraday’s father, Earl Isend of Skarabost—now, Faraday noted with some dismay, taken up with a blowsy young noblewoman from Rhaetia who had rouged her nipples so heavily that they had stained the sheer material of her bodice.

  After the nobles came sundry dignitaries and ambassadors. As the Corolean ambassador bowed low over his hand, Borneheld made a mental note to request the ambassador to come and see him at the first possible opportunity. Borneheld wanted to conclude a military alliance with the Coroleans as soon as he could.

  Before the minor nobles could step forward to pay Borneheld homage, Judith, former Queen, and her lady-in-waiting, Lady Embeth of Tare, stepped forward.

  Borneheld frowned, but Faraday inclined her head slightly.

  “Yes?” Borneheld asked, as Judith rose from her curtsey. The woman, so confident in her graciousness, had always made him feel clumsy.

  “Sire,” Judith began, “please accept my congratulations on your coronation and my sincere hopes for a long and bountiful reign. I pledge myself to you as your most loyal subject and hope that you know that if you need anything at all, I shall be only too willing to provide it for you.”

  “Sire.” Judith’s voice changed slightly, and Borneheld suppressed a grimace. He knew that tone of voice. The bitch was going to ask him for something.

  “Sire, I would ask a boon.”

  No doubt a substantial annuity or country estate, Borneheld sighed inwardly. Dowager Queens ever were a nuisance.

  “I am still prostrate with grief, Sire, and I would ask that you excuse me from court. You have your own court, and a beautiful wife to grace it.” Judith inclined her head to Faraday and smiled slightly. She turned back to Borneheld. “Embeth, the Lady of Tare, has offered me the sanctuary of her home. I would ask that you excuse both of us from cou
rt and from Carlon, so that we may retire to the quieter life of Tare.”

  Borneheld was surprised. What? No money? No jewels? Just permission to retire from court? Easy enough. He waved a magnanimous hand. “You have my permission, Judith.”

  “I leave this afternoon, if it pleases you, Sire,” Judith said humbly. In truth, she and Embeth had their carriages waiting outside.

  “Then I wish you well, Judith, Embeth. Perhaps I will visit one day. Once the Forbidden have been put in their place, of course.”

  “I will look forward to it with pleasure, Sire,” Judith said sweetly.

  She curtsied deeply again, caught Faraday’s eye for an instant, then she and Embeth swiftly left the Chamber of the Moons.

  Faraday stared after them sadly. She wished she rode with them. They had gone, not only to recuperate, but also to wait for Axis. If Axis was alive and if he led an army against Borneheld, there was every likelihood that he would pass by Tare. And if he did, then there waited Judith to inform both Axis and all who would listen that Priam had named Axis his rightful heir. Faraday smiled to herself. Judith hoped to have another, equally substantial surprise waiting for Axis as well.

  22

  AZHURE’s DILEMMA

  Azhure lay under the light wraps and listened to Rivkah breathe. The women had shared an apartment since their arrival in Sigholt six weeks previously, and their friendship had deepened and broadened since their time in Sigholt.

  For Azhure the past six weeks had been the happiest of her life. She had enjoyed her time in Talon Spike, and revelled in her acceptance by the Icarii, but she had found her true niche here in Sigholt. Belial, astounded by her skill with the Wolven and impressed by her determination to be useful, had given her a squad of thirty-six archers to train.

  To his surprise and to the astonishment of everyone else, Azhure had proved a natural leader. The squad quickly became the most disciplined, ordered and happy in Sigholt, and, to Belial and Magariz’s constant amazement, none of her thirty-six men complained about being put under the command of a woman. Life in a garrison filled with three thousand men and exactly two women could have been awkward, but Azhure was no prude and, despite her good looks, within a week most of the men had simply accepted her for her abilities and seemed not to notice her sex overmuch. She was more noted for her skill at archery and the constant shadows of three or more of the Alaunt hounds at her heels.

  But Belial had not remained impervious to Azhure’s femininity, and therein lay Azhure’s dilemma. She sighed and carefully slid out of bed. She waited for her stomach to settle, then swiftly dressed in a pair of man’s breeches, riding boots and a light shirt. She snatched a jacket as she slipped quietly from the room. Sicarius, who slept at the foot of the bed, pushed out in front of her.

  As the door closed behind Azhure, Rivkah opened her eyes and wondered when the woman would confide in her.

  Azhure hurried down the stairs of the Keep, nodded to the guard at the main entrance, and walked briskly across the main courtyard towards the stables. This was the time of day when Azhure loved to ride, before dawn, when the day was fresh and young, and her best thinking could be done without the distractions of the bustling Sigholt community about her. Two of the other Alaunt hounds joined her, but she waved the rest back. She did not want the entire pack to disturb her thoughts this morning.

  Azhure walked down to Belaguez’s stall, whistling as she approached. Much to Belial and Magariz’s horror she had started to ride the stallion several weeks ago. Belial, knowing how difficult the stallion was to control, could not believe that Azhure would manage to stay on more than five minutes. But Belaguez had responded to something in the woman, and although he sometimes pulled too hard, he otherwise behaved himself for her. Watching from the edges of the courtyard the first time Azhure had put the stallion through his paces, Belial had looked at Magariz, and then simply shrugged. Well, someone had to exercise the horse, and if Azhure could manage, then she could have the job.

  Azhure rubbed a brush over the grey stallion’s coat, then slipped a light saddle on his back. She cinched the girth tightly, waiting for the horse to blow himself out, then tightened the girth one more notch. The bridle took only an instant to buckle, and then Azhure opened the stall door and led Belaguez out into the dark courtyard. The three Alaunt were waiting patiently by the gateway to the Keep, and Azhure swung into the saddle.

  She nodded to the three guards on sentry-duty—they were used to her early morning rides—and then greeted the bridge cheerfully.

  Once across, Azhure touched her heels lightly to the stallion’s flanks and they were off, racing the sun to see which could top the crest of the Urqhart Hills first.

  The view from the peak was superb. Azhure could see in a complete circle for many leagues. Directly below them stood Sigholt, gleaming in the pre-dawn light, the Lake steaming gently beyond. Azhure slid from the horse’s back and sat on a nearby rock to watch the sun rise over the far distant Avarinheim. At the precise moment the sun crested the distant forest Azhure could almost have sworn the top of the forest canopy waved at her. But Azhure did not fool herself. The Avarinheim and the Avar were too concerned with their own problems to worry much about her. Besides, both Avarinheim and Avar waited for Faraday, no-one else.

  Azhure looked back down at the Keep, preoccupied with Belial. She and Belial had soon overcome their initial awkwardness on her arrival, and he had made it plain he harboured no ill feelings towards her rather savage assault on his person in Smyrton.

  “You can work your guilt off by proving your worth here,” Belial had said, and that was exactly what Azhure had set out to do, working herself and her squad of archers to the best of her ability. She had seen the appreciation in Belial’s eyes and basked in his words of praise. She enjoyed his company and his friendship. Belial was a large part of the reason why these last six weeks had been so good.

  But, over the past ten days or so, Belial had indicated he wanted to develop their relationship to a more intimate level. Last night he had come upon her in the stable as she groomed Belaguez, and had laughingly seized and kissed her. What had at first simply been a light-hearted kiss had deepened until Azhure had pulled back, afraid not of Belial, but of her own enjoyment. He had asked her, then, into his bed and into his life. But Azhure’s eyes had filled with tears and Belial had been instantly contrite. Reassuring him, Azhure had kissed him gently, asking for a night to think.

  And, oh, by the heavens, how tempting it would be to accept such a proposal! Azhure was sure she could develop a loving for Belial. He would be a man with whom she could easily spend a lifetime. And he loved her. That was a remarkable experience for Azhure, for, apart from Rivkah, Azhure had never before been loved. The entire village of Smyrton, as Hagen, had regarded her with disdain for her Nors features and beauty, and for her temper and independent spirit. The young men of the village had sought only the use of her body, and when she had consistently refused their attentions, they had spread rumours of her willing cooperation.

  On all counts, Belial’s obvious regard and love presented Azhure with every reason to accept his proposal. But there were complications. She loved Axis, yet that alone would not stop her from accepting Belial’s proposal. Azhure well knew that Axis planned and hungered for the day when he would be by Faraday’s side again. She harboured no childish visions about Axis asking for her hand in marriage. Azhure had already seen the disastrous effects of an attempted marriage between an Icarii Enchanter and a human woman, and Azhure knew, knew, that a life with Axis was denied her.

  In that case, why not leap for the life that Belial offered her?

  Azhure’s hands fluttered over her stomach. Because she was pregnant with Axis’ child, and that changed everything. She remembered that on the night she had fled Smyrton she’d dreamed that one day she would find a hero to father her children, and…well…now she had her wish. And though Belial might well accept Axis’ child, Azhure simply could not go to his bed not only loving another m
an, but bearing his child as well. Besides, Axis had grown to maturity never knowing his own father, always doubting that he loved him, and it would tear him apart to know that a child of his would suffer a similar fate.

  Azhure could not deny Axis his child.

  What should she do?

  Explain to Belial. Confide in him. Belial deserved to know. Then? Wait for Axis. Axis would surely return to Sigholt shortly.

  Beyond that Azhure did not want to think. She was terrified that Axis might take the child from her completely.

  “Never,” Azhure muttered. “No-one will take this child from me.” She would not deny her child its mother. Her eyes filled with tears. Azhure had loved her mother deeply, had pined whenever she could not see her, whenever she could not hear her mother’s footfall or hear her sweet voice as she cleaned the house or tended the garden and poultry. Azhure had believed that her mother was the most beautiful woman in existence. Her desertion had scarred Azhure irreparably—scarred her with a guilt that constantly gnawed at her. Had she not loved her mother well enough? Had her mother thought her a bad daughter?

  “Why?” Azhure whispered, “why did you not take me with you, Mama? I loved you, Mama, I loved you!”

  Of all her sins, Azhure constantly berated herself that she could not remember her mother’s name; that single loss had festered at Azhure’s conscience day and night for more than twenty years. She struggled, fought through sleepless nights. As a growing girl Azhure had once asked Hagen what her mother’s name had been, but Hagen had lost his temper in a frightening display of anger and had badly beaten Azhure, and the girl had never asked from that day forth. Not only her mother, but her mother’s name was lost to her. Azhure took a deep breath. She would be there for her baby, and her baby would never have occasion to forget Azhure’s name.

  Her mind drifted, wondering what it would feel like to hold her baby for the first time, what it would feel like to have a child love and trust her and come to her for comfort and laughter. Axis’ child would surely be wondrous. She smiled. Would it be golden-haired like Axis? Or would it inherit her dark hair and pale skin? How Icarii would it be, and how human?