Sinner

by Sara Douglass

  Zenith nodded and accepted it.

  Despite the questions she asked to keep her mind from the pain, by the time they neared the shadow-Carlon, Zenith had bitten her lip red with the effort of not crying out.

  But what the two women found at the site of Carlon and the Grail Lake drove the pain from Zenith’s mind.

  They stood and gaped.

  “What is it?” Zenith asked, leaning on Faraday’s arm.

  Faraday stared ahead. “It is a maze,” she said, and some part of her knew that it was somehow connected to Noah.

  They stood on a small rise from where they should have been able to see Grail Lake and Carlon rising in splendour on its shore. But a gigantic maze had replaced both lake and city. Where once had been water were now twisting stone-walled avenues and alleys, blind cul-de-sacs and trick doorways. It was massive, easily a league from side to side and perhaps two long. At its most western aspect the Maze rose as if it climbed a small hill – and there rose Carlon, as it would have risen beside the lake. But it was not quite the same Carlon. Its streets had twisted into a maze-like tangle as well, its buildings and spaces merely an extension of the maze below.

  “Look,” Zenith whispered, and pointed.

  “Yes,” Faraday said. “I see them.”

  Tens of thousands of people scurried in the Maze that filled the site of the lake and overwhelmed Carlon. Most of the activity was in the section of the Maze that had once been Carlon, but many hundreds had somehow found their way into the lower Maze. But whatever section they were in, the people ran this way and that, frantic even in the dreamlike shadow-lands. Many carried bundled belongings, or children. Some ran headlong into stone walls and fell senseless to the ground. Others lent each other aid to climb the walls of the Maze, only to tumble into a section of labyrinth more frustrating than the last. Others looked over their shoulders as if they were being pursued, others still checked the position of the sun, almost lost in a haze, as if their lives depended on it.

  “I don’t understand,” Zenith said.

  “Look!” Faraday cried, and pointed.

  At first Zenith could see nothing beyond the scurrying people within the Maze, but then she saw that one entire section of the Maze had emptied. Emptied, save for a man running. He was frantic, casting his eyes over his shoulder, bouncing off walls in his terror, falling and scrambling to his feet in the one breath. He was bloodied and tattered, and it appeared that he had been fleeing a very long while.

  “And there,” said Faraday softly.

  Zenith again looked where she pointed. There were a group of horsemen, five or six, led by a man in dull black armour atop a great black horse. In his hand he wielded a massive sword.

  Zenith felt nauseated. “Look, they are gaining on him.”

  The hunting party were only a few bends away from their quarry now, and in the space of three breaths they had cornered him in a cul-de-sac.

  The man fell to his knees, his hands outstretched, but whether in denial or pleading Zenith could not tell.

  The black horseman spurred his mount on, reining it to an abrupt halt.

  Then he waved his sword once about his head.

  “DragonStar!” Zenith and Faraday heard the hapless victim call out, and then he said no more, for the horseman drove the blade through his chest, then again through his belly, and then the horseman was standing in his stirrups, screaming his victory, blood scattering in small drops about him as he waved his sword about.

  “Tencendor is mine!” he screamed. “Tencendor is mine!”

  “Drago?” whispered Zenith.

  Faraday paused. “On the horse? Maybe, maybe not, but do not dwell on it, Zenith. All will be well.”

  She took Zenith’s arm and urged her forward. “We’ll give the Maze a wide berth,” she said, “and we will be safe.”

  51

  The King of Achar

  Zared wandered slowly through the ancient Icarii palace of Carlon. After the Wars of the Axe this palace had been the home of generations of Kings of Achar. Here they had wived and sired their heirs. Here they had surveyed their kingdom, cast their decisions. Here they had conspired to keep the Forbidden – the Seneschal’s word for the Icarii and Avar – locked behind the Icescarp and Fortress Ranges.

  Here once, but no more. Zared paused by the window of one of the chambers. Grail Lake lapped quietly under the chill morning sun. Today, the first day of Frost-month, would be his wedding day and his crowning day.

  He smiled slightly, thinking of Leagh, and then his smile broadened as he thought of what the afternoon would bring. A circlet. A ring of office. A realm. Achar.

  The circlet and ring were here in Carlon. Rivkah had kept them in Severin for many years, but in her old age had succumbed to sentimentality and had caused them to be held in a quiet and secretive storage here in Carlon. Their ancient home. Where they belonged.

  And now here he was. His ancient home. Where he belonged. It felt so right. He may have stumbled to this point, but once here…

  Zared turned back into the chamber. It was spectacular – far more so than in Priam’s or Borneheld’s day. Once Axis had gained control of Tencendor he’d caused the palace to be restored to its ancient Icarii splendour. Every chamber had a domed ceiling, enamelled in jewel-like colours, each dome sparkling with representations of stars or, as in this chamber, dancers drifting through the sky.

  Zared strolled into the centre of the chamber, deep in thought. Once Icarii, then seized by the Kings of Achar as their own. Restored by the half Icarii, half human StarMan. Now…now back to the Acharite throne.

  As Zared wandered, Leagh sat very still at her mirror table, looking at her reflection. From early morning her maids had laboured on her body, her face, her hair, her robes. Now here she sat, minutes from her wedding, and a few hours from a crowning.

  She could not stop the lingering doubts. Oh, how she wished she had either Askam or Caelum to talk to, to ask advice from, to beg for forgiveness! She loved Zared, and she accepted that the…the Acharites (how clumsy that word sounded on her tongue and in her mind!) wanted him as their king. But was that necessarily right for Tencendor?

  Should the throne be restored?

  “Gods,” she whispered at her reflection. “What will Askam do when he discovers my actions? What will Caelum do?”

  But it was too late. She now had no choice. She had promised Zared that she would accept the will of the people, and so she must.

  “He has been honest with me,” she said, more firmly now, “and so I must be honest with him.”

  And with that she rose.

  “My Prince!” enthused Wilfred Parlender, Carlon’s Prime Notary. “It is indeed an honour to be asked to officiate at the wedding of our Princess to the heir to the throne. Prince, know that Carlon wishes you well! Even now the streets are lined with revellers.”

  Zared repressed a smile and fidgeted with his embroidered gloves. He felt uncomfortable in this finery, but a marriage such as this had to be observed with due formality.

  He looked about him. Scores of people lined the walls of the Chamber of the Moons, but Leagh had not yet made her appearance. She was late. Why? Zared was struck by the horrible thought that she’d changed her mind and had fled the palace.

  Back to Caelum? Zared’s fidgeting grew more noticeable. Where was Caelum? What was he thinking? Zared had expected some reaction from the StarSon before now – but nothing. Maybe Caelum had died in the explosion – no, that could not be. His fairy blood would have protected him, and there had not been a vengeful Axis to deal with.

  Not yet.

  “Peace, my Prince,” Gregoric Sandmeyer murmured in his ear. He stood slightly behind Zared, acting as chief witness. Behind Sandmeyer ranged sundry nobles, Theod and Herme chief among them, Master Goldman and his entire family, all the guild masters, their wives, and the most important craftsmen, businessmen, and notables of Carlon. Zared had requested their presence. He needed credible witnesses who could attest for ever afterwar
ds that this was a legal marriage, with Leagh giving free and willing consent.

  “Peace,” Sandmeyer said again. “The entire city of Carlon stands behind you, Zared.”

  “Achar stands behind you, my Prince,” Goldman added. “The demonstration you saw in the streets yesterday is but a fraction of the support you enjoy throughout Achar. Every man, woman and toddling child will rally to your name. Do not fear.”

  Zared was about to answer when there was a rustle at the door, and the servant standing there nodded to Parlender.

  “She arrives!” Parlender said breathlessly, his chubby face perspiring from high excitement.

  Leagh entered the room, splendid in gold and rose, and Zared loved her for wearing his colours. Her eyes sought his, and she smiled at him sweetly.

  Zared smiled back, and held out his hand. It will all be well, he thought as she walked towards him. It will be.

  “Zared,” she murmured as she joined him, and dropped her eyes demurely, although a smile remained on her lips.

  “My Lady,” he said, “you are more beautiful than the sunrise.”

  She blushed at the flattery, but accepted it anyway. There were many in the room more beautiful than she, but a woman was allowed to believe any fantasy she liked on her wedding day.

  “Ahem.” Parlender cleared his throat. “My Prince, Princess, would you like me to begin?”

  Zared lifted his eyes, smiled, and nodded.

  Leagh thought the rite the most beautiful she had ever witnessed, let alone participated in. Zared stood by her side, so striking she thought she would never be able to catch her breath again, so sure, so confident, speaking the vows with a measured yet potent voice. She knew that many people crowded the Chamber of the Moons, but she was aware only of Zared and the lesser presence of Prime Notary Parlender.

  Leagh had not thought to be this entranced. She had been so uncertain this morning, but the instant she had seen Zared standing, waiting for her, all her doubts had vanished. The sun shone so bright, the waters of Grail Lake sung to her from the open window, and the brief glimpse of joyful Carlonese crowding the streets made her heart swell with happiness.

  It will all be well, she thought, it truly will. She would enjoy being Zared’s wife, raising their children, growing old and contented with him. Zared’s parents had been deeply in love, and Leagh was beginning to hope that she and Zared would also enjoy that depth of love and commitment.

  It will all be well.

  Zared had spoken his vows, and now he turned to her. He held her hands, and his eyes smiled at her, and Leagh knew that everything would be glorious, and that the small sadnesses and irritations that struck every marriage would hardly dim the happiness of their union.

  “My Princess,” Parlender said softly. “Do you give your free and willing consent to marriage with Prince Zared?”

  She smiled, and felt the pressure of Zared’s grip increase in response. “I do hereby give my consent freely and willingly,” she said clearly, “and gladly and unhesitatingly.”

  Parlender spoke the vows for her to repeat, but now Leagh was hardly aware even of him. All existence was centred about Zared’s smile, and the warmth and pressure of his hands.

  And it was done. The crowds, inside the chamber and outside in the street, cheered and yelled. Music swelled, Zared bent down to kiss her, and now Leagh knew she dared have no doubts at all, for there was no undoing their marriage.

  To her surprise, Zared hurried her with almost indecent haste from the Chamber of the Moons to their prepared apartments, where he proceeded to bed her.

  “Why?” she gasped as he drew her into his embrace, slipping his hands down to worry at the tiny hooks of her gown.

  “Why not? It is two weeks at least since we have bedded, and I hunger for my wife.”

  “But this afternoon is the crowning, and I will wear this same gown, and I will have to bathe and dress all over again, and –”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Leagh,” and he slid the fine gown from her shoulders and she gave in to his persistence.

  Perhaps there was some final legal point that stated a consort crowned beside her husband had to be a formally bedded consort.

  Whatever, she spoke no more, and wrapped her now-bare arms about her husband as he slid the rest of her clothes into a puddle about her ankles.

  They lay for an hour only, and then servants hurried into their chamber – causing Leagh to blush as they discovered her naked – and began to wash and dress man and wife for the crowning. Abandoned clothes were snatched from the floor, and hurriedly cleaned and pressed. Hair was brushed and dressed, maids re-powdered and rouged Leagh’s face, man-servants shaved and scented Zared’s cheeks and chin.

  And so they walked in stately procession back to the Chamber of the Moons.

  There a somewhat attenuated crowning took place. In previous years, the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal would have crowned the heir, but the Seneschal and the Brother-Leader were no more. There was no other official with the same stature – neither the Lord Mayor nor the Master of the Guilds was appropriate.

  So in the end it was Theod, Duke of Aldeni, as highest-ranked nobleman present, who lowered the golden circlet on Zared’s head, and slipped the amethyst ring of office onto his finger.

  And then he dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. “Long live the King!” he cried, and the cry was taken up in the Chamber, as in the streets where again, it seemed, the sixty thousand had gathered to welcome in their monarch.

  Then Zared lowered the lesser circlet on to Leagh’s brow. She opened her eyes wide as it settled; it felt cold, and unusually heavy.

  The responsibilities of Queen, she thought, and then the thought was driven from her head as the air again rang with the jubilation of the crowds.

  “Long live the Queen!”

  Oh gods, she thought, what have I done? I have just participated in a ritual that has wiped my brother from his position as Prince of the West!

  She’d never thought about that before. What had she done?

  Then, as in ancient ceremony, the nobles present came forward to pledge to their king their homage and fealty. Theod first, and then Herme. Baron Marrat of Romsdale was noticeably absent, but several other minor nobles presented themselves. The guild and craft masters again promised their allegiance, and the same procession of people who the day previously had confessed their loyalty now bent before Zared once again.

  After the seemingly endless procession had ended, Zared took Leagh’s hand and led her to a balcony where they received the acclaim of the Carlonese.

  The swell of joy and sound almost overwhelmed Leagh. Zared smiled and waved, but for some minutes all Leagh could do was stand and stare. Thousands – tens of thousands – stood and cheered, their joy was patently unfeigned and unpurchased.

  He was right to chastise me for not walking about the streets of my own city, she thought, for I never knew they hungered this much for their lost king.

  Leagh raised her hand and waved, and gradually came to distinguish individual voices among the general hubbub.

  “My Lady Queen,” an old woman cried out directly below her. “Rule wisely and well!”

  “An Acharite King and a Queen – at last!” another cried.

  “A cheer for the King and his Queen,” shouted yet someone else, and the wave of sound swelled into meaningless noise and almost overwhelmed Leagh.

  She swayed, and felt Zared slide his arm about her waist and support her against his own body. “It’s what they want,” he whispered. “If it hadn’t been their desire, then I would not have dreamed of claiming my right.”

  He kissed her, delighting the crowd, and then Leagh felt a hand on her shoulder.

  Whose? she wondered, for Zared had both his clasped about her waist.

  And so she raised her head, and looked, and cried aloud with fright.

  Axis SunSoar stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders.

  The crowd screamed, loving it – there was the StarMan
! Even the Star Gods blessed the marriage and the crowning!

  But Leagh was much, much closer to Axis, and from the expression on his face she wondered that he did not tumble them to their deaths in the crowd below.

  Zared stiffened. “What do you here, brother? Have you come to impart your best wishes?”

  “Inside!” Axis hissed, and his hands tightened to the point of pain.

  Leagh glanced at Zared; his face was white with anger.

  Without a word they walked back into the Chamber of the Moons.

  “Out!” Axis shouted into the crowded chamber, his entire power as God of Song behind his voice, and the chamber emptied within moments.

  “You are stupid beyond belief!” Axis seethed, turning back to face Zared and Leagh. “Zared, how could you do this? How could you betray all that I had worked to achieve? How –”

  “How could you betray your mother’s people as you did?” Zared shot back.

  Leagh looked between the two men, both furiously angry, and retreated a step.

  “I always knew you would betray me,” Axis said, quietly now. “Knew it from the moment I heard Rivkah was pregnant again. You have inherited your father’s ‘loyalty’, Zared. Magariz was ever willing to swap masters for expediency’s sake –”

  “He followed where his heart told him, Axis. I but do the same!”

  “The Kings of Achar deserve to lie forgotten!”

  “Not according to the Acharites.”

  “Then damn them! Is all I did in vain? Did I not fight Borneheld to the death in this very chamber,” Axis’ arm swept in a violent arc, “to save this country and all its peoples from utter destruction? Damn you, Zared, am I always to be troubled by disloyal brothers?”

  “You were ever prepared to fight for what you thought was right, Axis. I am only doing the same. I claim my rightful heritage back from your destruction of it.”