by Sara Douglas
"It represents the River Lhyl," the captain said softly, "the lifeblood of the Tyranny."
Axis nodded, unable to speak.
He looked up, studying the rest of the space.
Eight rows of columns, fully twenty paces high and five in diameter at the base, arranged in four sets of twinned rows, ran down either side of the central space.
The columns were as remarkable as the floor.
They were composed of what looked like an almost translucent glass. Virtually clear at their base, they gradually became more opaque as they rose to dizzying heights, until, at their summit, where they blossomed into open-petaled water lily flowers, the glass became solid colors of the faintest pinks and blues and greens.
"I have never seen anything so beautiful," Axis said very softly.
"No one ever has," said the captain. "One never gets tired of the sight."
"Did Isaiah build this?"
The captain shook his head. "It was constructed over several generations, I believe, and was only completed during Isaiah's grandfather's time. Come. Isaiah is waiting."
The captain led Axis down the central open space, flanked on either side by the rows of twinned water lily columns.
At the far end of the open space was a shaded pavilion where, Axis could just make out, stood a raised dais.
By the time he and the captain had made the halfway point, Axis was beginning to understand the reason the Isembaardian tyrants had created this particular arena for their Spectacles.
It was damnably hot.
In fact, anyone who had to spend any time at all in this "sunroom"--and that would be most of those who attended the Spectacle, for Axis assumed it would take Isaiah some time to work his way through whatever ceremony he had planned--would be at a disadvantage to Isaiah within a very few minutes.
The combined effect of glass floor and columns and the sun made the space a furnace.
There were shaded areas to either side, and Isaiah's covered pavilion at the head of the space, and Axis thought it would all be reserved for the favored.
Anyone in disfavor, or as yet uncategorized in Isaiah's list of who he trusted and who not, would be forced to stand in the sun.
Isaiah rose from his throne--made of the same glasslike substance as the floor and columns, but comfortably cushioned--as Axis approached.
Isaiah waved away the captain with a nod of thanks, then gestured to Axis to join him on the dais.
"In the shade, my friend," he said, with a smile. "What think you?"
Axis shook his head in admiration. "I think you are a cruel man, Isaiah. How many are you to keep waiting in the sun today?"
Isaiah smiled, but did not otherwise respond to the question. He was accoutred in the most magnificent finery Axis had yet seen--jewels of various hues gleamed among his braids and studded the golden collar he wore about his shoulders. Bangles adorned his wrists and ankles, but Isaiah had kept his hipwrap to plain linen, and had no sandals on his feet--to all the more display the wealth of his gems, Axis thought.
He wore no weapon, but hardly needed to: the dais was surrounded on three sides by rows of spearmen.
Axis caught sight of Ishbel, sitting on an ornate chair to Isaiah's right.
She was beautifully gowned, and her hair almost as impressively styled as Isaiah's, but Axis thought he saw lines of strain about her eyes and mouth, and she barely smiled at his greeting.
"Ishbel?" Axis murmured as he kissed her hand. "How are you?"
"Just a little tired," she said. "I find it difficult to sleep in this heat."
"The baby?" Axis said.
She replied only with a slight shrug, and a tightening of the worry lines about her eyes.
"You should not be here," Axis said, "but in your chamber, resting. Isaiah--"
"No, Axis," Ishbel said, "I will be well enough, and I have little to do here but sit and nod and smile."
"And you will nod and smile?"
"I am happy enough, Axis. I like Isaiah, and feel comfortable with him. Maximilian is a long way in my past."
Axis studied her, wondering. She seemed genuinely relaxed about Isaiah's announcement of marriage,
but she most certainly did not appear well.
"Isaiah," he said, turning back to the tyrant.
"Later, Axis," Isaiah said. "This will take little time, and will be no strain on Ishbel. Will you sit now?"
That last was said in a tone that clearly indicated Isaiah was not prepared to receive a negative response,
and so, with a further worried glance at Ishbel, and a silent promise to himself to keep an eye on her,
Axis took his appointed seat just to one side of Ishbel's.
Isaiah nodded at him, then returned to his own throne. As soon as he was seated, a haunting melody of horn music filled the air.
Axis was used to blaring trumpet clarions for ceremonial events, but this haunting melody was, to his mind, even more unsettling and unnerving for the participants outside than an overpowering clarion would have been.
The music wound in and out of the columns, skimming over the floor, wafting gently between the assembled dignitaries on the dais and the spearmen standing about it.
It strengthened just a little, and then Axis saw people slowly entering the Spectacle Chamber from the massive rectangular doorway at the head of the flight of steps from the anteroom.
They were guided into the space in no particular order, which Axis thought must have been even more unsettling for them. All had to find their own place.
After a moment's hesitation and disorientation as they first entered, most headed straight for the shaded areas to either side of the sun-filled columned space.
There awaited a cordon of Isaiah's aides.
Some, a very few, were allowed through to wait in the pleasant shade, but most were directed back into the sun. The generals and their senior captains arrived, and Axis was glad to see them waved through to the shaded area.
He did not think it would have been a very good idea to keep the generals in the sun.
Gradually the central space filled up, people managing to stand in ordered groups (which groupings themselves revealed alliances and enmities).
Most people had attired themselves in their best raiments, which meant much heavy draping of silks and linens topped with encrusted jewelry. In the heat and the brilliant sun, people became uncomfortable very quickly.
Axis glanced at Isaiah.
He had a tiny smile on his face.
Axis wondered about the wisdom of leaving the participants in such discomfort. They were, after all,
important people in their own right, and would not appreciate this obvious manipulation.
But then, perhaps, it was all a part of the game, and the instinctive groupings did, after all, reveal to Isaiah better than anything else where lay loyalties and alliances.
The music increased in intensity for a moment, then faded away to nothing.
The door at the back of the chamber closed.
Isaiah stood.
He did not, as Axis expected, remain in the comfortable shade, but strode to the very front of the dais where lay a belt of savage sun.
It illuminated him--the jewels in his hair, and the golden collar about his shoulders--until his form shimmered.
Axis thought that the assembled throng would either see him as a god, standing there in the light...or as an intensely irritating and manipulative bully.
There was movement to either side, and Axis looked around.
The majority of the spearmen, while leaving a cordon of warriors on the dais, were now moving down the sides of the chamber, ready to act should anyone get too hot-tempered from discomfort.
Isaiah began to speak to the throng. His voice was very strong, and very confident, his body language reflecting all the power and arrogance of his office.
Axis grinned. Isaiah was spinning a fantastic tale about the capture of Ishbel...a tale in which Ba'al'uz did not figure at all.
I
saiah continued with the news that Ishbel was to become his new wife, and was to bear the newly created title of Favored Wife.
Axis glanced at Ishbel at that, and she smiled slightly and rolled her eyes at him, making him grin.
Isaiah continued on, describing Ishbel's acquisition almost as he would a successful invasion. Maximilian,
the Escatorian king, had been "humbled" by the loss of his wife to Isaiah and was now a recluse, unable to act through sheer inadequacy. The Escatorian nation itself was now virtually a satellite to Isembaard and wanted only Isaiah's imminent invasion to capitulate completely.
Ishbel represented Isaiah's potency, his might, his success.
Axis sincerely hoped that Maximilian wasn't going to ride into Aqhat at the head of an avenging army (unlikely, but Axis wasn't about to discount Maximilian quite as completely as Isaiah appeared to be doing), which event would severely damage Isaiah's presentation.
Isaiah turned slightly, gesturing to Ishbel to join him.
She rose, hesitated slightly as she got to her feet, then regained her composure and walked forward to Isaiah.
Axis leaned forward in concern. Ishbel did not look well at all.
Isaiah's eyes crinkled at Ishbel a little--Axis was relieved to see he was laughing at himself--then took her hand, presenting her to the throng.
It was right at that moment that the bowman rose from the center of the gigantic lily flower at the top of the nearest column, and fired the arrow into Isaiah's chest.
A second's worth of horror, then Axis moved. He lunged forward, grabbing Isaiah by the arm and pulling him to one side.
He wasn't fast enough. Just as he grabbed Isaiah's arm, the arrow thudded into Isaiah's chest.
The force of the impact sent Isaiah sprawling, knocking Ishbel to the ground as well, and the next moment the chamber was in an uproar.
Axis stumbled, managed to gain his balance, then looked up at the top of the column.
The bowman was standing there in full view, and even from this distance Axis could see the small smile of satisfaction on the man's face.
But that wasn't what shocked Axis.
What completely appalled him was that the bowman was an Icarii.
Bingaleal let the bow droop slowly to his hip as he stared into the eyes of the StarMan.
Greetings, Axis SunSoar, he thought, then allowed a small derisive smile to form.
Axis had looked away now, and was kneeling by Isaiah's blood-covered form, lying partly atop that of the sprawled woman, her face twisting in shock and perhaps some pain. Axis was shouting for help,
trying to staunch Isaiah's bleeding while at the same time trying to take the woman's hand, as if to comfort her.
Bingaleal didn't care what Axis tried to do, for whatever it was, it was too late now. Lister's purpose had been served. He looked at the milling confusion, and at the generals striding forth, waving forward spearmen and archers, calling for ropes so soldiers could scale the column, ordering that should the birdman assassin lift off then he should be feathered out of the air with several score of arrows.
As if I would fly out of here, Bingaleal thought. You have not seen my like, although one day we hope to rule over you.
He allowed the bow to drop completely, and he sank to his knees in the great flower that sat atop the column. Ignoring the frenetic activity below him, the spears that rattled every moment or two against the column and occasionally flew in a deadly arc over his flower shelter, Bingaleal curled into a tight ball,
wrapping his wings about him entirely.
Within moments ice formed along the ridged outlines of his wings and body. Despite the hot sun, it spread rapidly, so that by the time the soldiers had fetched their ropes and prepared to mount the column, ice entirely encased Bingaleal.
As a noose of rope caught one of the petals, and the more daring among the soldiers began the treacherous ascent of the column, the ice enshrouding Bingaleal's body clouded over, then became completely opaque.
Then the ice faded. Bingaleal's body did not shrink, it merely disappeared slowly, until, by the time the first of the soldiers had gripped the outer rim of the flower with his hands and peered cautiously over,
there was nothing left but a single tiny snowflake, rising into the streaming sun and vanishing in a breath of air.
The palace was in an uproar, all attention centered on the sunroom, and so no one noticed the thin,
tattered figure that tottered into the palace complex from one of the river gates.
Ba'al'uz stopped long enough to drink a great draft from the fountain in the great courtyard, then he made for the doorway that led into the private quarters of the palace. As he drank, an ugly brindle dog crept to his heels, and then followed as Ba'al'uz completed his journey across the courtyard.
When he entered the palace, Ba'al'uz and the dog went entirely unnoticed, encased as they were in Kanubai's power.
The activity and consternation in the palace meant that one other activity also went unremarked. Atop DarkGlass Mountain, thin rivulets of blood had begun to flow down the glass sides of the pyramid from under its gigantic golden capstone. They trailed to about halfway down the pyramid, then, strangely,
veered sideways so that, after some time, the rivulets of blood entirely enclosed the central portion of the pyramid.
Then they turned black, as if girding the pyramid's waist in bands of iron.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard
An Icarii? An Icarii? What the fuck have you done to me, Axis?"
"Isaiah--"
"I trusted you. I trusted you! And this is how you--"
"Isaiah, I am not to blame, I--"
"Don't tell me that. I saw you talking with Ezekiel the other night. What were you plotting, eh? I can't imagine you wanted my throne. What then? Ishbel?"
"I had nothing to do with it, Isaiah!"
The two men glared at each other, bodies rigid with anger and shock, faces tight with emotion, then Isaiah turned away, muttering an obscenity.
He'd known that Axis had nothing to do with the attempt on his life (and he was almost certain who had ordered it), but Isaiah was angry, furious, and he'd needed someone at whom to lash out.
His chest was still streaked with blood from his wound, which was now stitched and daubed with antiseptic. He'd been lucky. The arrow had struck him square in the chest, but it had hit a section where the golden collar draped down from his shoulders.
Although the arrow had penetrated the metal links, it had only superficially wounded Isaiah.
Without the collar he would have been dead.
It almost did not matter. Aqhat was in crisis.
Such a brazen assassination attempt, in the middle of a Spectacle, with every high-ranking witness Isembaard could produce, was a disaster for Isaiah. He relied on his image of total strength and invulnerability to maintain control over the military and over the vast and disparate elements of his empire.
To have an assassin penetrate into the very heart of his power, to have an assassin so brazenly and so easily evade all security, utterly undermined Isaiah's credibility.
Everything was made so much worse by the fact the assassin had not been caught. He had simply...vanished.
Within moments armed men had hustled Isaiah, Ishbel, and Axis off the rooftop and down into Isaiah's private chambers via a back entrance, Isaiah having recovered enough from the shock of the arrow strike in his chest to shout orders at his generals.
It was there, in Isaiah's private quarters, as Zeboath stitched and cleaned his chest wound, that Axis told him the assassin had been an Icarii bowman. Ishbel had since gone to her own chamber to rest, and Isaiah had angrily pushed Zeboath aside, telling him to get out of the chamber.
"I was not responsible," Axis said.
"It was an Icarii," Isaiah said, although his voice had lost much of its accusation. "One of your people. Is that what you did when you went north to fetch Ishbel, eh? Make contact with the
Icarii? Suggest they might like to assassinate me?"
"If I'd wanted to assassinate you," Axis snarled, "I would have done it privately and I would have done it well."
Isaiah stared at him, then his body subtly relaxed. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Axis to relax slightly, too.
"It wasn't me, Isaiah," Axis said.
Isaiah made a gesture with his hand, as if to wave away the fact he had accused Axis in the first instance,
then poured himself a goblet of wine, draining it in a couple of swallows.
"Why an Icarii?" he said, wondering what Axis would say. "Why would an Icarii hunt me? Are they assassins for hire now?"
Axis hesitated.
"I'm not entirely sure it was an Icarii," he said.
Ishbel had dismissed her attendants, and now sat in a chair, rubbing at her aching back.
She felt dreadful. She hadn't been feeling well all day--nauseated, headachy, weak--but all those troublesome irritants had magnified fivefold after Isaiah had fallen atop her in the Spectacle Chamber.
Her legs were now so wobbly they could scarcely hold her, and her head throbbed as if the arrow had cracked her skull instead of Isaiah's chest.
But, thank the gods, he was alive and relatively well. For a long, terrible moment immediately after that arrow had struck Isaiah, Ishbel had thought he was dead.
She decided to rise and fetch herself some iced wine, but as soon as she moved she gave a gasp as a band of fire encircled her body.
Her hands instinctively clutched at her belly, then she tried once more to rise in order to walk the fifteen or so steps to the bellpull to summon aid.
But the instant Ishbel tried to put weight on her legs she collapsed to the floor, unable even to shriek as agony of incredible magnitude encircled her body.
At DarkGlass Mountain, the black bands encircling the pyramid throbbed and glittered, as if they rhythmically expanded and contracted.
"What?" said a voice. "Has someone managed to get in before me?"