DragonThrone02 The Empire of the Stars

by Alison Baird

  Ailia, he thought, then: Ailia, I love you!

  Now their first adventure swept before his eyes; the Stone, the island of Trynisia. The images flicked past with breathtaking speed. Ana—Lorelyn—the scroll—the seminary years—the orphanage . . .

  Somewhere, very far away, the voice of the old priest said, “Is it time yet, boy? Tell me when it is time.”

  The acolyte’s slow halting voice answered. “The sun dies, Master. The sky is red. But, Master—”

  “What is it, boy? What is all that noise outside?”

  “People coming—shouting. So many angry, angry people—” The acolyte’s voice trembled.

  “Close the doors and bar them!” There was no fear in the priest’s tone, only a curious gloating. “The reign of Khalazar is over. One thing only remains: the last act of blasphemy, to condemn him for all eternity.”

  There followed the sound of the doors slamming, and the darkness behind Damion’s eyes deepened as the light was again shut out. But against that blackness the images of his inner vision grew clearer. With a thrill of wonder, Damion felt his mind go back further still: to a far shore beyond the seas of thought, where lay the flotsam and jetsam fragments of a still earlier past. Lost memories of—a garden—flowers—two faces: a woman, a man—Father and Mother. No, this last was no memory, but a real presence. A white-clad woman with green eyes and golden curling hair stood before him, in the darkness, calling out to him . . .

  I remember you now, he said to her in his mind. I remember it all! Is that what death is then—the recalling of what we have lost? Is death truly a sleep—or do we dream our life, and then wake from it?

  Her hands and eyes beckoned him onward, into her embrace.

  22

  The Dragon’s Bride

  AURON CIRCLED HIGH above the towers of the Forbidden Palace. He flew in the guise of a cockatrice, but even so he risked much in coming so near the enemy’s keep. Desperation and his anxiety for Ailia had pushed him to this hazardous gamble. He could only hope that, with so many Loänei dwelling in the keep, the pulse of ethereal power coming from his transformed body would be dismissed as one of their own sorceries, should any of them happen to sense it. It was said that the dragon-folk slept through the daylight hours, so there was a chance that he would be safe, and escape the notice of their sentries. Even so, this pass above Mandrake’s fortress must be swift.

  He flapped his leathery wings and dared to skim down lower, under the shadow of the central tower. He had seen something below: a lone figure, female, walking in one of the courtyard gardens. Could it be—

  He spiraled down on the heavy warm air and alighted on the lawn a few paces away from her. She was dressed in a robe of red silk patterned with gold dragons, and her hair was bound up in an unfamiliar style. But it was she. He could not believe his good fortune. She started and stared at him with wide, wondering eyes as he transformed to his customary human shape and whispered, “Ailia.”

  She gasped. “Auron.”

  “Highness, don’t worry, we have come for you—Taleera and Falaar and I. Come, let us flee while Mandrake’s eye is off you! I will carry you away on my back.” He drew on his power again, preparing to change to his dragon’s shape. By now his use of power would have alerted those within. The prince would be upon them in an instant, calling on his own Loänan. But they would escape, if Auron flew at his greatest speed and called upon his weather-power—

  Ailia gave an odd little cry, and retreated a couple of steps. “No—go away! Leave me alone!” she exclaimed.

  In his surprise he lost hold of the power he was summoning. He ran to her, holding out his hands. “Ailia—it’s I—I’m here to rescue you! I would have warned you I was coming, but I dared not speak mind to mind through the Ether, for fear of Mandrake overhearing. Quickly, now—I can fly you away from here!”

  Again Ailia backed away from him. Her face was pale, and contorted with something like loathing. “Don’t you come near me!” she screamed. “I hate you! You and your friends carried me off and held me captive on your world! Mandrake warned me you would come and try to abduct me again! Mandrake,” she turned and shouted in the direction of the doorway, “Mandrake, help me!”

  “Ailia—”

  There was a noise of running feet. Dismayed, Auron turned at once back into his cockatrice’s form, and flew away over the wall even as the Loänei guards poured into the garden.

  “SHE HAS TURNED ON US!” cried Taleera in horror. She was sitting, transformed to human shape, with Auron and Mag in the latter’s kitchen. “Do you think that Mandrake has corrupted her—made her believe his lies?”

  Auron shook his head. “No! She is under a spell of some kind—she must be!” But he was miserable as he recalled the revulsion in Ailia’s eyes. Could she really have learned to hate us? Has Mandrake won her over and twisted her thoughts?

  “I have heard of potions that enslave the will,” said Mag suddenly. “The dragon-folk used such things in olden times. And there is one that creates absolute devotion to another person.”

  “What is that?” demanded Taleera, turning her auburn head sharply to stare at the innkeeper.

  “The love-philter, it is called. It makes a person fall deeply in love with the first person she or he sees.”

  “Of course! Ailia wouldn’t ever turn against us!” exclaimed Taleera, as though that had been her position all along. “Is there an antidote to this poison, Mag?”

  “Yes—it’s in an old book of my grandmother’s. I never had any call to use it before. I’ll go look at the ingredients this minute.”

  When Mag left the room Taleera said, “We must go to the castle, Auron, in disguise.”

  “The prince will be on his guard now, and increase the number of his sentries. And if Mag is right, Ailia herself will fight us,” said Auron. “She will use all the powers at her disposal. Ah, clever Mandrake—he has turned the strength of our own champion against us!”

  “Well, we must do something. We can’t just leave her there.”

  There was a long pause as the two of them sat pondering. A small head poked out from underneath the table, followed by a larger one that emerged on the opposite side. Twidjik plucked a fruit out of the bowl sitting unregarded between them, and then withdrew both his heads from sight again. “I have an idea,” said Auron at length. “We will need Falaar’s help to execute it, but I believe it can succeed. We must also have someone whom Ailia still trusts, to take her a message. She will believe neither one of us now.”

  “Can you not disguise yourself again?” asked Mag, coming back in with the book.

  “Mandrake would sense my sorcery at work—as would the Loänei. I barely got away the first time, with most of them still asleep.”

  “I’ll do it then,” Mag offered. “Ailia trusts me, and I owe her a debt for Mai’s sake.”

  “Would the guards admit you, though?” said Taleera. “Someone might recognize you: it’s well known that you and your daughter gave shelter to Lia. Nor is it any secret that you are a Nemerei. They may suspect that you know she is the Tryna Lia, and want to help her. I think they will not let you in.”

  “Maybe we get in?” said a voice from somewhere at their feet.

  All three stared in astonishment. It was Twidjik the amphisbaena who had spoken. His front head reappeared and looked at them with its round dark eyes. “We go,” it said. “Dragon-people not afraid of us. Nobody afraid of amphisbaena. We go, for sorceress-lady. “

  “Well I’ll be—blessed!” said Mag once Auron had translated for her. “A two-head do such a thing? I never heard the like! But will he be able to do it, or will he lose his nerve and run away? “

  “We do it,” Twidjik said, coming out from under the table and training the eyes of both heads on them. “For her. For sorceress-lady.”

  THE NIGHTS WERE VERY BEAUTIFUL here—she had not noticed that before. The sky turned from green to the deepest possible turquoise, and the moons lay scattered in it like pearls. And the Loäne
i palace, though made like a fortress without, was luxurious as Halmirion within.

  Halmirion . . . It seemed to her more than ever in memory like an exquisite prison, a cage in which she had been trapped and confined. How could Auron have been so foolish as to believe she would ever return there? Ailia reveled in her stay in the Forbidden Palace. All worries had been banished from her mind: she had lounged at ease all last night with the other courtiers, being waited upon by slaves who brought them sweetmeats and cooling cordials. She had soaked herself in a perfumed bath and been anointed with fragrant oils.

  And there was Mandrake, her beloved. All her hours were filled with the thought of him. He was teaching her to take a dragon’s form herself, through deep meditation exercises: giving her the feel of its vast armored body, its clawed limbs and mighty wings. Soon he would teach her to take that form in reality, and she would fly the skies with him as a Loänan, knowing a freedom beyond any she had ever yet experienced. The only thing that cast a slight shadow on her happiness was the thought that he did not always seem as happy as he should. He would look away from her at times and sigh, and she would quickly put a hand upon his shoulder or stroke his long soft hair.

  She reclined on her divan in the ballroom while the indoor fountain splashed soothingly. The carp in their basin rose greedily for the delicacies she cast to them, while people played stringed instruments and chatted and laughed. Light patterns reflected on the ceiling from the fountain rippled like music and laughter made visible. She took in a deep breath, scented richly with the jungle flower perfume she now wore. The Loänei had been right all along, she thought. They understood how to live. And they loved all beauty, including hers. The blue shadowing they had rubbed on her eyelids and the paint on her lashes made her eyes seem even larger, the rouge on lips and cheekbones accentuated the fetching pallor that layers of rice powder created. Her hair was dressed with jewels and rose in a mass of twisting interwoven braids, echoing the sinuous coils of the dragons worked into her scarlet lounging robe. Her fingers were tipped with long red artificial nails, in imitation of a dragon’s claws.

  Pleasure: it was the goal and the very essence of life. For this alone did one come into the world, to take all one could of what one wanted. To be like the beasts, who did not ponder or puzzle their minds with questions, but only ate and bred and then died. To live as long as possible, to preserve one’s youth and health and beauty for as long as possible. She looked up at the frieze of capering marble nudes on the walls above. No fat or coarse-featured or elderly figures there! They were all young and beautiful—too beautiful for her liking, suddenly. She frowned. The sculptor’s chisel had given them an impossible perfection of smooth skin, rounded muscle, and classical feature. No living person could look like these idealized stone idols, nor could the passage of time work any change in them. She fretted—for a moment was actually jealous of the stone figures. What if Mandrake were to compare her beauty with theirs, and find her wanting?

  I must learn to alter myself with shape-shifting. There must be no flaw in me, no imperfection. I will change my height—my face—my limbs. I will make myself perfect, so his gaze can never stray to any other woman. For it stood to reason that if people were animals, then the best animal would always win. The more beautiful and virile among beasts distracted potential mates away from their rivals, flaunting their glorious plumes and manes and horns. She sat up and looked suspiciously about the room. Rivals! Had she any? Would anyone dare? That young Loänei woman now, by the window—she was tall and slender and lovely, too lovely by half. Mandrake must surely have noticed her, and admired her: how could he not? A hot anger rose in Ailia’s breast, burning through the drowsy haze of indolence. In Nemorah people moved from lover to lover as from one meal to the next, with no more emotional attachment than one gave to eating. It was the animal’s way. But it was not Ailia’s: she loved Mandrake to the exclusion of all others. If she could only be sure of his love!

  No one must take Mandrake from me. If any woman so much as tries, I will kill her!

  A shrill, inhuman cry rang out in the corridor and she looked toward the doorway, annoyed. What games were the courtiers up to now? There was another scream and a sound of laughter and running feet, and several of the younger Loänei charged into the room bowling what looked like a thick gray hoop before them with a stick.

  “What is it?” someone asked as the hoop rolled over on its side and became the huddled shape of a small animal with a head at either end.

  “We don’t know—some jungle creature,” laughed a youth as he prodded it with a stick. “It got into the castle somehow—through the tunnel, I’ll wager—and we’ve been having a bit of fun with it.”

  “It’s an amphisbaena,” said Ailia, rising to take a closer look. “I had one for a companion, when I came here through the jungle. They can talk, if you have the power to hear. I am surprised it would dare to come to this place: most fear the Forbidden Palace, and amphisbaenas are very cowardly.”

  The creature raised its front head, still panting with fright. “We come to help you, beautiful sorceress-lady,” it chattered.

  Ailia was astonished. “Twidjik, is that you? What are you doing here in the castle, you silly creature? I told Mag to take care of you.”

  “We came here to be your servant, carry messages and things for you. We have not forgotten your kindness, your protection. Don’t send us away!”

  “Honestly, what a little limpet you are! Never mind, you may stay for now.” She returned to her divan and he scuttled underneath it.

  She paid him no more heed, for Mandrake had entered. Delight filled her when he was present, and pleasurable anticipation when he was absent. His attentions were what she lived for: a soft- spoken word, a caress, a cut flower placed in her hand.

  “I want you to be as happy as I am,” she murmured as he sat down beside her on the divan. “Don’t you love me as I love you?” She waited anxiously for his reply.

  He turned and kissed her hand. “Of course.” She breathed a sigh of relief and reached up to stroke his hair: he seemed to want to pull away, and also to enjoy the caress, at the same time. What could be wrong with him? She posed the question to his mind, and he answered aloud, as though he did not want to share the intimacy of thought. “It is nothing.”

  “I will always love you,” she said softly.

  “I know.” He looked at her oddly. “That is the difficulty.”

  And then he rose again, and left her alone and desolate. When he had departed from the room, she turned over and buried her powdered face in the cushions.

  “So! When is the wedding to be?”

  Ailia glanced up at the mocking voice. Syndra was standing over her divan, smiling down at her.

  “What do you mean?” asked Ailia. “Whose wedding?”

  “Why, yours, of course. To Prince Morlyn.” Syndra sat down uninvited on the divan cushions.

  Ailia looked at her with contempt. “Do you know so little of this world, and you here longer than I?” she retorted. “You know there is no marriage among the Loänei. They do not own one another that way.”

  “A pity, that. It helps keep the men from going astray.”

  “Mandrake is not like other men. He loves only me.”

  “Are you so sure of that?” Syndra leaned close. “Why has he not claimed you and taken you for his own yet? Can it be that he is only amusing himself with you?”

  A hot flush swept over Ailia’s face, and she leaped up. “Take that back,” she hissed, “or so help me, I will slay you where you stand—for Mandrake’s sake and mine. You dishonor us both.”

  Syndra’s face retained its mocking expression. “I am merely trying to help you, my dear Princess. You might show some gratitude. As for killing me, well, you might find that harder than you think.” Naked hate flashed in her narrowed eyes.

  “You treacherous snake!” screamed Ailia. “You cringing little gutter-witch! Don’t you know that my powers are many times greater than yours? Mandrak
e has been teaching me how to use them. I could blast you to a cinder if I chose!” She flung out her hand and from her sapphire ring there shot out a small bolt of pure quintessence. It struck Syndra, knocking her to the floor. But the other woman was on her feet again in an instant, eyes blazing, attacking in her turn. Disdainfully, Ailia deflected the other sorceress’s bolts and sent another fiery blast at her, hurling her against the far wall. She crumpled to the floor again.

  “Enough!” a voice snapped from the direction of the doorway.

  Ailia stood stricken, one hand still raised. Mandrake was standing there, and he looked angry. Her beloved prince was angry with her. No, more than that—there was real distaste in his eyes as he looked at her. He averted his gaze, then turned without another word and strode away.

  Syndra crawled across the floor to a nearby divan and hauled herself up onto it. “You saw that? You saw the look on his face?” she spat. “He hates you—actually hates you! You might as well die, for you’ll never have him now!”

  Ailia’s heart faltered at those words, and the whole world seemed to darken. Ignoring Syndra, she rushed from the room.

  MANDRAKE FOUND ERRON KOMORA taking his ease in his private apartments. “What have you done to her, blast you?” he shouted, striding into the room and seizing the Loänei by both shoulders.

  “To Ailia? I have done nothing, Highness,” Erron replied, cowering. “Nothing! It is the philter that has done its work, as I told you it would.”

  “You did not tell me it would alter her character completely!”

  “Nor has it. You see merely another side of Ailia’s character, a side that she has hitherto kept carefully suppressed. Her dark, secret side of hidden emotions and desires. The potion has taken away certain . . . restraints she previously imposed on herself. That is why the Loänei no longer use this potion on our vassals. It was thought that it would compel obedience from them by filling them with adoration for us. But it only set them to fighting one another for our favor.”