The Serpent Bride

by Sara Douglas

"Or unless you wish me to bring someone else back from death to deal with it for you," Isaiah said.

  "Your order," said Ezekiel in a smooth, calm voice, "is as always my command. Let us not disturb the dead any more than we need to. Morfah and I will see to it, Excellency. At what point after the invasion do you wish the peoples of En-Dor and the FarReach dependencies to begin the long trek north into--"

  "They shall move with the invasion," Isaiah said. "Thus they shall need to be informed now that new lands await them and they need to begin making preparations for their journey north."

  "With the invasion?" Lamiah said, adding almost as an afterthought, "Excellency?"

  "The Outlands and Central Kingdoms are very far away from the main bulk of the Tyranny," said Isaiah.

  "They need to be settled as rapidly as possible. The peoples of the En-Dor and FarReach Dependencies shall follow directly behind the main military convoy."

  "They are not going to be happy to be ordered from their homelands," Morfah muttered.

  "Then your silver tongue shall be needed to persuade them," Isaiah said. "And persuade them you will,

  Morfah...Ezekiel."

  They both gave small, stiff bows of acquiescence.

  "Together with the army and the settlers," Axis said once the five generals had left, "how many people will there be in the convoy, Isaiah?"

  "A million, maybe a little more."

  Axis could say nothing for a moment. A million people? "The logistics..." he said.

  "Are a nightmare," said Isaiah. "No wonder I needed you back from death to advise and aid me, eh? I

  cannot be everywhere at once."

  Axis just shook his head. A million people. He couldn't escape the feeling that Isaiah was heading directly for his second military fiasco.

  Stars alone knew what the generals were thinking.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  West of Pelemere, Central Kingdoms

  They had been on the road for weeks, and Maximilian was enjoying the freedom. He appreciated the chance to catch up with old friends. He knew all the kings of the Central Kingdoms, some better than others. Malat, who ruled over Kyros, was a good friend, and his son, Borchard, an even better one.

  Maximilian had enjoyed his four-day stay in Kyros immensely, although the good-natured prenuptial ribbing of Borchard was something he was thankful to escape.

  He worried a little about leaving Escator, but that worry was mainly engendered by guilt at enjoying his freedom so greatly. The Privy Council were capable enough of managing the kingdom's daily affairs, and all would manage nicely without him.

  Some of Maximilian's enjoyment began to pall as they drew closer to Pelemere. Ishbel was near, an equal distance to the east of Pelemere, according to the report of a passing Icarii, as he was to the west,

  and now all of Maximilian's attention was focused on their meeting.

  What would she truly be like, this serpent bride? What was her purpose: to become his wife and bear his children, or to deliver a darker message into his life?

  Together with his increasing anxiety about Ishbel, Maximilian was also growing a little irritable with the constant company. Garth and Egalion were his close friends, and he knew the men of the Emerald Guard intimately. While he enjoyed their company, Maximilian was so solitary by nature, a trait exacerbated by his seventeen-year imprisonment, that he found the constant company trying. He found himself dreaming about pushing his horse into a gallop across a vast plain, seeing nothing but the gently rolling grasslands ahead of him, enjoying no company save that of his horse, having to respond to nothing more than the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.

  And soon he would have a wife.

  Six days out of Pelemere, Maximilian's rising anxiety and irritation combined to push him to a sudden decision.

  "Egalion," he said, as they dismounted for the evening, "I am going to take a few stores, and a bedding roll, and ride off by myself for a few days."

  "Maximilian--"

  "I need to get away, Egalion. Just by myself. Just for a few days. You know how..."

  Maximilian's voice drifted away, and Egalion nodded. Yes, he knew "how." Maximilian had spent seventeen years chained to a gang of men, and Egalion knew that sometimes it seemed to Maximilian as if those chains had never vanished.

  "You need to keep safe," Egalion said.

  "I don't need a guard." Maximilian's voice was sharp.

  "I won't send men to shadow you, Maximilian. But keep safe."

  Maximilian tried a small smile, which didn't quite manage to warm into life. "What part of the world can be more boring, more safe, than the western plains of Pelemere, my friend?"

  Garth had wandered over and had heard enough of the conversation to know what was happening.

  "Maxel?"

  "The hanging wall," Maximilian said, referring to the ceiling of rock that had hung over him for so much of his life, "is bearing down on me, just a little too much. Let me go, Garth."

  Garth and Egalion exchanged a glance, then Garth nodded. "Keep safe, Maxel."

  "I will rejoin you a day outside of Pelemere."

  Maximilian stepped back, his eyes holding those of Egalion and Garth for just a moment; then he vanished into the gloom of dusk.

  Maximilian pushed his horse for five hours into the night, angling a little northeast of the route Egalion,

  Garth, and the Emerald Guard would take, until the animal was almost dropping from weariness. He halted in the shelter of a small grove, made his horse comfortable, then gathered enough dry wood for a fire.

  Maximilian felt exhausted himself, but he knew he would not sleep.

  There was something he wanted to do.

  He just didn't know what Ishbel represented. Contentment, or the ruination of peace? Maximilian wasn't even sure that meeting her would solve the puzzle: Ishbel was likely to be an enigma not easily explained within the first five minutes of acquaintance.

  Once the fire was blazing, Maximilian set out some food...then ignored it.

  He would eat once he was finished.

  Pushing the food to one side, he slid the Persimius ring from his left hand, then took the queen's ring from his cloak pocket. Holding them loosely in his hand for a moment, Maximilian took a deep breath, then set them down, slightly apart from each other, before the fire. The Whispering Rings could do more than just set his day on edge with their irritating chat.

  Trying not to think too much about what he was about to do, Maximilian took a long stick, poked it into the fire, then scraped a goodly quantity of the bright coals over the rings.

  They hissed, then hissed again, more violently than previously.

  "Tell me what you see," Maximilian whispered.

  For a moment nothing happened, then vision consumed his mind.

  He strode through a corridor that appeared as if it stretched into eternity. Its walls glowed turquoise and white.

  Behind him, he knew the corridor vanished into the darkness that trailed from his shoulders like a cloak.

  Maximilian strode ahead, his steps determined.

  He walked the hallways of Elcho Falling.

  He turned a corner and halted, transfixed.

  A woman sat in a bath, her back to him, her fair hair caught up about the crown of her head with pins,

  tipping water from an exquisite goblet encrusted with frogs over her shoulders so that it trickled slowly down her spine.

  She turned very slightly as she became aware of his presence.

  "My love? Is that you?"

  He felt overwhelming grief at the sight of her, and could not understand it, for he knew also that he loved her.

  He turned and resumed his walk down the corridor, brushing irritably at a weight about his brow.

  After some time (hours, days perhaps), he became aware that something approached from behind him.

  He turned, thinking (hoping) it might be the woman.

  Instead, it was something so dark, so terrible, that Maximilian screamed, throwi
ng his arms up about his face.

  It was not a creature or person at all. Instead, Maximilian found himself staring into the open doorway of the Twisted Tower, and seeing that it was now entirely empty.

  Not a single object remained in any of the chambers.

  He had lost everything, every memory, every ritual, every piece of magic, that he needed to resurrect Elcho Falling.

  He woke, his heart still thudding, just after dawn.

  All he could remember for the moment was the horror of staring into the doorway of the Twisted Tower and realizing it was now entirely empty.

  Terrified, but knowing he had to do it, Maximilian closed his eyes once more and called forth the Twisted Tower. Trembling, he laid his hand to the handle of the door and opened it.

  The first chamber lay before him, groaning with the weight of its objects.

  Relieved beyond measure, Maximilian opened his eyes, looking across once more at the fire.

  The rings lay in cold, drifting ash.

  Maximilian reached over and picked them up, sliding his own ring on his hand, and slipping the queen's ring away in his cloak.

  What was he supposed to make of what he'd dreamed?

  He busied himself with some breakfast, discovering himself starving. He set aside the problem of the dream for the moment, instead concentrating on the simple tasks of breaking camp, grooming and saddling his horse, and riding out.

  Toward the end of the day, when he was dismounting from the horse in order to make camp, Maximilian realized that there was something about the vision that he had not been conscious of while he'd been experiencing it, but of which he'd become aware, very gradually, in the past few hours.

  As he'd been striding the corridors of Elcho Falling, he'd carried the weight of a crown about his head.

  Maximilian had his answer.

  Elcho Falling was waking.

  He sank to his haunches, absolutely appalled, lowering his face into one hand.

  Elcho Falling was waking, and he was the one who would need to assume once again the responsibilities of its crown.

  For several minutes he crouched in turmoil, unable to order his thoughts. Finally, however, Maximilian managed a deep breath.

  What should he do?

  Carry on, put one foot in front of the other, until the way ahead became clear.

  Taking another deep breath, Maximilian finally rose to his feet. Perhaps this Ishbel Brunelle would have some answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Pelemere, Central Kingdoms

  The train of carts and horses and riders wound its slow, miserable way toward the city of Pelemere.

  Winter had set in and gray sleet drove down over the train, drenching horses and riders and even those Icarii sheltering inside the canvas-covered carts. Everyone huddled as deep as they could within cloaks,

  heads down against the driving rain, hands almost too cold and stiff to keep grip on reins. Horses plodded forward, heads down, tails plastered to their hind legs, eyes more than half closed against the rain. Mud splattered up from their hooves, coating their underbellies and the legs of their riders.

  No one noticed the rider emerge from the shadows of a small wood and attach himself to the rear of the train. Within heartbeats he looked as though he had been there since the train had set out from Margalit weeks previously, face hidden beneath the hood of a sodden cloak, shoulders hunched against the cold.

  A deputation from Pelemere met the train some four miles out of the city. It wasn't a very large deputation, for this was the train only of the possible wife of the rather poor King of Escator (when Maximilian arrived he would rate a slightly more ostentatious welcome), but it was a welcome, and Baron Lixel, riding at the head of the train, was pleased to see them.

  If nothing else, the deputation meant food and shelter and a warm bed were nigh.

  There were a few brief words of welcome, faces from the Pelemere deputation peering through the gloom to nod at the Lady Ishbel sitting her mare five or six riders back, and then everyone headed as fast as they might for Pelemere. No one wanted to remain outside in this weather.

  The city had almost entirely shut down for the night, but there was one gate left open and it was through this small, insignificant side gate that the Lady Ishbel Brunelle and her train were escorted to their residence in the eastern quarter of the city. The house was one which the king, Sirus, had lent to Ishbel for the coming weeks as a gesture of goodwill toward Maximilian. It was not particularly large, but it had a covered courtyard, and Ishbel was never so glad of anything as she was of that sudden relief from the wind and rain when she pulled her mare to a stop with cold-numbed hands.

  A servant from the house hurried forward to help her to the ground, then left her to aid someone else.

  Ishbel stood, alone in the milling activity of the courtyard, wishing only for someone to escort her to a bath and a bed.

  For an instant a gap opened in the crowd of horses and riders, and Ishbel saw a heavily cloaked man watching her from the far edge of the courtyard.

  There was a moment when Ishbel felt that their eyes met, even though his face was hidden beneath the hood of his cloak, and then a horse moved between them, the moment was broken, and Ishbel turned away.

  Please, please, she thought, let someone lead me away from this cold and misery soon.

  Then Baron Lixel was at her side, and a man who Lixel introduced as Fleathand, who was the steward of the house, and within moments Fleathand was leading her inside, and Ishbel could finally, gratefully,

  contemplate some solitude, some warmth, some rest, and, perhaps amid all that, a little bit of comfort.

  Two hours later, fed and bathed and sitting alone in her chamber, Ishbel finally felt as if she could relax.

  But she dared not. Relaxing meant Ishbel might weep with exhaustion and anxiety and overstrung emotion, and she was not quite ready to give in to tears.

  She sat in her chair by the shuttered window, clad in her night robe with an outer wrap pulled loosely about her, and tried to relax. The past weeks since leaving the Coil had been taxing; she was constantly on edge, alert for any stray word that might betray her, and the emotional wrench at her parting from everything she loved and trusted grew worse with each passing day. Well might Aziel, the Great Serpent,

  and the entire firmament, for all she cared, insist that she would return one day, but right at this moment Ishbel could not see that eventuality. She felt utterly lost and abandoned and, caught in her loneliness and melancholy, she simply couldn't believe that she would ever return to her home.

  If only she knew why this marriage was so important. If only the Great Serpent would tell her. It was all very well to argue that this marriage was the only thing that would save her homeland from devastation,

  but Ishbel could not see why. It made no sense to her.

  Ishbel thought about how she had been loved and valued and cherished by the Coil.

  Then she thought about Maximilian, and about her humiliation at his insistence through StarWeb's demands.

  She sighed, the sound ragged and heartrending. She tipped her head against the headrest of the chair,

  closing her eyes, and tried to think about something, anything, happier than her current situation.

  It was only after long minutes that Ishbel came to realize she was not the only person in the chamber.

  She jerked to her feet, staring wildly into the dimness beyond the lamp, and finally saw him.

  He was standing in the shadows at the very rear wall of the large chamber, dressed in damp traveling leathers, leaning against the wall, arms folded, as still as the darkness itself, watching her.

  Ishbel knew instantly who it was.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Pelemere, Central Kingdoms

  Maximilian had traveled hard and fast once he'd left his first night's campsite to reach Pelemere at the same time as Ishbel. He was numb at the realization that Elcho Falling was probably waking, but as he had no idea what di
rection he should take, or what he should do, Maximilian simply continued on as he had originally planned.

  Meet Ishbel, discover for himself what she was like.

  The only thing that Maximilian knew was that, whatever else, Ishbel was somehow integral to Elcho Falling.

  No one had spotted him as he slipped in at the back of Ishbel's train. Maximilian was dressed in clothes similar to those of Ishbel's escort, plus everyone's attention was on Pelemere and the necessity to get there as soon as possible, rather than on the actual number of men trailing along behind.

  He dismounted in a quiet corner of the yard, looking about for Ishbel.

  Maximilian had spotted her almost immediately, and his first thought was that she was the woman he'd seen in his vision.

  The second was that he'd never seen anyone more alone than she was at that moment.

  She had no retinue. No one. Not a maid, not a valet, not a single companion that she could trust and lean on for support.

  Absolutely isolated, and looking lost and afraid because of it.

  Maximilian had seen the look on her face and had recognized it instantly. He'd seen it on face after face of men condemned to the Veins--a hopeless, trapped expression that was impossible to fake.

  She must truly be driven, then, to come all this way for a marriage she could not want.

  Ishbel eventually vanished behind the milling horses and their dismounted riders, and Maximilian had taken the opportunity to slip into the house and merge with his old friend, the darkness.

  He'd stood there, completely motionless, allowing the dark to curl about and hide him while Ishbel unpacked a single valise, ate a meal brought to her by a servant, and bathed in the hip bath set by the fire.

  He'd waited and watched, motionless, secreted, as Ishbel had dried herself, pulled on her nightgown and then the robe, summoned the servant to take away the bath, and then sat in the chair by the shuttered window, resting soft and silent and very, very still until the moment she tipped her head back against the chair and sighed with such misery that Maximilian felt his heart turn over.

  It was the ultimate betrayal, this silent watching of a woman's most intimate moments, but Maximilian had needed to do it. He hadn't hoped to discover any of the secrets StarWeb had said Ishbel trailed behind her, nor had he hoped to discover the true reasons behind her journey to this point (whatever Ishbel thought they might be). What he'd wanted to do was discover, as best he might, the real Ishbel, the woman behind whatever intrigue she carried with her, and this was, he thought, one of the few times he would be able to observe her completely naked, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.