by Kate Elliott
Praise for the CROWN OF STARS series:
“… the first volume of Elliott’s new high fantasy … proves an entirely captivating affair … a resounding narrative revolving around three appealing protagonists….”
—Publishers Weekly starred review
“A break-out book … a grand and powerful piece of writing … what really counts are her characters. They keep the plot moving irresistibly forward and draw us into her work.”
—Katharine Kerr, author of The Black Raven
“The saga’s world is exceedingly well built (including a working economy, for instance), its pacing is brisk enough to keep the pages fluttering…. This certainly could become one of the best multivolume fantasies—fans take note!”
—Booklist
“There’s a bone-deep reality to the world that informs its people in both the small details and the large. Elliott has a strong ability to create a sense of other that is nonetheless human and compelling; one of the best arguments for the value of multivolume works.”
—The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
“A complex fantasy world with intriguing parallels to European history, colorful characters, and plenty of action and magic.”
—Locus
“Grand-scale storytelling…. Elliott weaves together the destinies of star-crossed lovers, ambitious churchmen, and barbarian invaders in a dazzling medieval fantasy set in an alternate Europe. Reminiscent of Katherine Kurtz’s Deryni series, this engrossing saga should appeal to fantasy lovers and fans of historical epics alike.”
—Library Journal
“There’s enough going on in this one for an entire series of novels … a world with depth and color … once you’re caught up in the story, you’re going to spend many pleasant hours before you reach the conclusion.”
—SF Chronicle
DAW Novels by
KATE ELLIOTT
Crown of Stars
KING’S DRAGON (Volume One)
PRINCE OF DOGS (Volume Two)
THE BURNING STONE (Volume Three)
CHILD OF FLAME (Volume Four)
THE GATHERING STORM (Volume Five)
IN THE RUINS (Volume Six)
CROWN OF STARS (Volume Seven)
The Novels of the Jaran
JARAN
AN EARTHLY CROWN
HIS CONQUERING SWORD
THE LAW OF BECOMING
&
with Melanie Rawn and Jennifer Roberson
THE GOLDEN KEY
In The
Ruins
VOLUME SIX
of
CROWN OF STARS
Kate Elliott
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER
375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM
SHEILA E. GILBERT
PUBLISHERS
www.dawbooks.com
Copyright © 2005 by Katrina Elliott.
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-101-63980-1
Cover art by Jody A. Lee.
For information on artwork and prints by Jody A. Lee,
visit www.jodylee.net
Map by Patricia Tobin.
DAW Books Collectors No. 1335.
DAW Books are distributed by the Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
First paperback printing, February 2006
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As all of my readers know, this has been a long and complicated series, with a long and complicated plot. Indeed, after a certain point in writing this series, there was simply no way to turn back.
In the two years it took me to write the final volume, I considered only the needs of the characters and the story in order to write as strong an ending as possible to Crown of Stars. I am satisfied that I did my best and, as much as I could, achieved the ending I envisioned.
However, at approximately 430,000 words, the manuscript I turned in to my publishers was simply too long to bind as a single volume. I was left with a choice. I could cut several hundred pages out of the book—and weaken the end of the series by leaving plot threads and characters’ fates unresolved—or I could split the manuscript into two volumes, each of which would run about as long as Prince of Dogs.
I spent a lot of time agonizing over length, wondering whether any book needs to be this long. In the end, however, I couldn’t see a way to make the cuts without losing a significant amount of the story’s impact, so I chose to make the split in order to preserve the story. This means that Crown of Stars will be published in seven volumes, rather than six.
In retrospect, I note that the number “seven” echoes the mage’s ladder, so perhaps in some way this was inevitable.
For those who welcome or are at least resigned to this development, thank you so much for your patience. For those who are understandably irritated by it, please accept my apologies. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Part One
THE TIDES OF DESTRUCTION
I A Vision of the End
II The Luck of the King
III Awaiting the Flood
IV Tales to Scare Children
Part Two
IN THE RUINS
V Salvage
VI The Enemy’s Handiwork
VII On the Road
VIII The Phoenix
Part Three
ADVENTUS
IX Well Met
X A Vigil
XI Shadows and Light
XII Where Their Flight Took Them
Part Four
THE MOUNTAIN OF THE WORLD’S BEGINNING
XIII Blood
XIV The Guivre’s Stare
XV The Impatient One
XVI A Tempting Offer
EPILOGUE
CAST OF CHARACTERS
PROLOGUE
FEATHER Cloak was fertile, the only pregnant woman left among her people. Indeed, she was the only woman living who had quickened more than once. Therefore, she presided over the council of tribes because she had power the others did not possess, power that had been draining from the land during their exile. No one could explain this slow leaching, but they knew it presaged the death of both land and people. If anyone could save them, it must be the one in whom power still resided long after it had departed from the rest.
The Eagle Seat had yielded to her. In truth, it was now the only place she rested easily. Her older child was almost an adult in aspect and learning, but in the days when he had grown within her, he had not waxed so large. It seemed she would harvest a giant’s spawn, although she happened to know that the sire of her budding child was Rain, who was no smaller or larger than any other man. He was a gentle soul of medium build, good-natured, a hard worker with clever hands, a skill for flint-knapping, and a well-omened name, and for all these reasons a much better choice for a father than arrogant warriors like Cat Mask and Lizard Mask who liked to shake their spears and strut before the women.
As they were doing now.
“We must gather in one place, farther inland where we’ll be protected, and ready ourselves! Then we can act at once, and in numbers. We can strike before our enemy expects us!”
“Better to station ourselves in smaller groups, you f
ool! Spread out around the countryside. If one group is taken by surprise, the others will be able to harry the enemy and regroup when it is safe.”
“If the enemy strikes first, if the enemy passes the White Road and sets foot in our country, we are lost!” Cat Mask pounded the haft of the speaking staff repeatedly into the dirt to emphasize his point. As if his voice wasn’t loud enough.
Lizard Mask had half a head of height over Cat Mask. He used it now, puffing up his chest and jutting out his chin, as he curled a hand around the haft above Cat Mask’s hand. “If the enemy invades, how can we know where he will cross? If we’re all in one place, we’ll lose mobility. We’ll lumber along as slowly as your mind works!”
“Feh! Your wish to be safe has made you frightened. We must be bold!”
“We must be cautious but clever, the thorn in their side.”
“The arrow in their heart! One blow to cripple them, not a frenzy of meaningless stings that will only anger them but do no lasting damage.”
The councillors were seated around the cavernous chamber, watching the two young warriors stamping and blowing in the center. The older women seemed amused and indulgent, while the younger women had settled into expressions of disgust or intent interest depending on their liking for belligerent male posturing. The older men stood with crossed arms and resigned expressions as they waited for the storm to die down; they had blustered in like manner in their own day and knew better than to intervene.
“A swarm of bees may bring down a wolf who angers them and disturbs their hive.”
“A wolf may outrun them and stalk back at night when they sleep to rip their refuge to shreds for other animals to mangle and devour!”
Because men had the floor, it wasn’t the place of women to speak, but Feather Cloak was not surprised when The Impatient One—Uapeani-kazonkansi-a-lari, daughter of Eldest Uncle—laughed.
“What fine phrases these are!” she cried. “Shall we acclaim the one who pierces us with the finest poetry?”
The two men flushed red. Faced with her mockery, they shifted their stances to join against her. In years past, The Impatient One had slept with both of them, and cast both aside, and whatever jealousy they nurtured each toward the other measured less than their resentment of her indifference.
“You argue over war,” she went on, “but force of arms cannot win this battle.”
“We must fight!” declared Cat Mask.
“Whether we choose to mass our forces or disperse them, we must be ready to fight,” agreed Lizard Mask.
She snorted. “They are many and we are few. Beyond that, humankind are only one of the dangers we face. We may yet suffer grievous harm when the day comes—close now!”
As if to emphasize her point in the same way Cat Mask had rapped his spear against the ground, the land beneath shuddered. The vibration resembled a temblor but was instead the judder of the land as it called out like to like, seeking its home through the waves of aether that surrounded it. It shook right through Feather Cloak’s body. Her womb clenched and relaxed in harmony with that rhythm. She wiped her brow with the back of a hand, knowing her time was close, just as the day they had so long awaited was close.
What was torn asunder would come back to its resting place, and the Ashioi, cursed and exiled, would come home.
Many spoke, all at once, now that The Impatient One had spoken out of turn. Peace. War. Appeasement. Negotiation. Each view had its adherents, but those who clamored for war shouted loudest.
“I will speak,” Feather Cloak said. The rest, even The Impatient One, quieted. “Listen well. If we do not speak with one voice, we will surely perish. We no longer have leisure to argue. A decision must be made, so I will make it. Let it be done in this way: Let the people be gathered inland, where they may hope for the most safety. But let them assemble in thirteen groups, each apart from the others, so that if one falls into danger the others may yet escape. Cat Mask, you will split our warriors into two groups. The larger group will remain with you at a place of your choosing, where you can move and fight swiftly. Lizard Mask, you will order the rest into small groups that can patrol the borderlands to warn the rest of us if any hostile force passes our borders. The council will disperse with the others. I will remain here until the storm passes. White Feather will act as my midwife. For the rest, we must prepare to defend ourselves, but only after the storm can we know how we are situated and how many of us have survived. We will assemble again at that time to choose our course of action. I have spoken. Let none dispute my words.”
She had only once before invoked her right to make a unilateral decision. No wise leader did so often. She sighed, doubly burdened, as the council acquiesced. Most left swiftly to carry out her orders. A few tarried, arguing in soft voices that nevertheless echoed and reechoed in the cavern. Only Eldest Uncle remained silent where he sat, cross-legged, on the second terrace.
“You have offered no opinion, Uncle,” she said.
“He has no opinion,” replied his daughter, turning away from her conversation with her companion White Feather who, like her, was harsh but strong. “He has fallen in love with his grandson’s naked mate, whom all men desire because she burns with the fire of the upper spheres.”
Eldest Uncle sighed.
“Is this true?” asked Feather Cloak. “I admit I was surprised when you brought her before the council. She is dangerous, and in the way of such dangerous things, attractive and bright.”
“She is young, and wanted teaching. If you women can think of nothing but sex, that is not my fault.”
“My father and my son—both enslaved to her! What do you say, Feather Cloak?”
“I banished her, seeing what she was. Beyond the danger she poses to every earthly creature because of what she is, I saw no harm in her.”
“You are a fool!”
Feather Cloak smiled, clasping her hands over her huge abdomen. “That may be. And maybe you are jealous.”
Eldest Uncle chuckled.
The Impatient One glared.
“But I sit in the Eagle Seat. If you dispute my right to take this place, you will have to prove yourself more worthy than I am.”
Like every adult among her people, Feather Cloak could use a bow and had learned to defend herself with knife and staff, but The Impatient One had relished the arts of war in which all adolescents trained. She was physically strong, with powerful limbs and a martial grace that could be used to protect, or to threaten, as she did now, tense and poised, a warrior ready to cast a spear at her enemy.
“I have walked the spheres! Do not mock my power.”
“I do not mock you, Cousin. But I do not fear you either. Power is not wisdom. It is only power. Cat Mask and his warriors cannot protect us if he makes rash choices. We are weakened by our exile. We do not know what we may yet suffer. I counsel caution and readiness. You yourself spoke against using force of arms.”
“Only because they are many, and we are few. We must strike swiftly with other means. The greatest and cruelest of their warriors can be overcome by sorcery. I have defeated even the wild beasts among them who would have torn me limb from limb.”
“Beware,” said Eldest Uncle quietly. “We have seen how much greater is suffering when sorcery is used for harm.”
“You think we should surrender!”
“Do I? We must seek peace.”
“Peace is surrender! Humankind will never offer us peace.”
“How can you know this, Daughter?”
“I know them better than you do! I have lived among them. I bore a child to one of them.” She looked defiantly at Feather Cloak. “They are not like us. They will never make peace with us. My son was raised as an outcast among them, and even so they seduced him to their ways.”
“Better to have raised him in our ways,” said Eldest Uncle, “instead of abandoning him there.”
“So you would say! But it was decided to try the course of appeasement by birthing a child who would mix their blood and ours.
That plan has failed!”
“Has it?”
“Do you believe otherwise? How can you know? You have not walked on Earth since the old days, and the old days are forgotten by humankind. They recall us only in stories, as an ancient enemy long banished and defeated. Or is it the memory of the Bright One that blinds you, so that you do not wish to war against them?”
“It is ill mannered for a daughter to speak so disrespectfully to her own sire,” commented Feather Cloak. “Your words may carry truth, but your behavior gives us cause to doubt you.”
“You are fools!” The Impatient One snapped her fingers, and one of the young warriors, loitering by the passageway that led out of the cavern, came to attention. “Still, it is possible—just possible—if they are not dead but only caught between the worlds….” She grinned, leaped up the steps, and vanished into the darkness, the young man at her heels.
“Who is dead?” asked White Feather.
“We are caught between the worlds,” said the elderly woman known as Green Skirt. “What mischief is she up to?”
“She’ll try to get pregnant again,” said White Feather. “She’ll want the Eagle Seat. She’ll wrest it from you, if she can.”
Feather Cloak had weathered many trials in her life. They all had, who lived in exile. She smiled, feeling the familiar tug of weariness at her heart, leavened only by a memory of laughter she had once shared with The Impatient One when they were girls together. “In the old days,” she said as the last of her council gathered around her, “we did not acclaim a leader solely on her fertility. It is a shame it has come to this.” She patted her belly. Muscles tightened under her hand. The skin rippled as the child within rolled like one of the fabled merfolk underwater.
“How has the world changed?” she asked the others, marking each one with her gaze: Eldest Uncle, Green Skirt, the old warrior Skull Earrings, and White Feather, who would act as midwife. These were the ones she trusted most because they were honest, even and particularly when they did not agree. They were her spring, winter, autumn, and summer. “We do not know what we will find when we return to Earth, for none among us has walked in the other land as it is now. None except The Impatient One.”