“Yes,” Axis said, “normally it is an opaque rose color, and as soon as I touched it I felt the Star Dance. Just faintly, but, oh, stars, it was there.”
He looked at the other two, willing them to understand the depth of his emotion at this discovery. “I—all Icarii Enchanters—thought the Star Dance lost forever. We were certain that the only means we’d had to access it was via the Star Gate, which was irretrievably destroyed by the Timekeeper Demons. We had thought…we had no idea…”
Axis had to stop. “You can have no idea what this discovery means to me.”
“I think somehow I do,” said Ishbel, very gently. She gave him a moment, then said, “But this pyramid is now gray and lifeless. What has happened?”
Axis smiled a little. “Ah. These are communication devices, although they may very well do other things. When I toyed with it, when I touched oh-so-briefly the Star Dance through it, someone elsewhere knew what I did. And they closed off all power to it, or shut this pyramid down. They did not want me examining it too closely. That was disappointing, yes, but this,” he hefted the pyramid in his hand, “gives me so much hope. Partly because I know that if I can ‘reopen’ it, then I may be able to touch the Star Dance again, but also because this is not a natural object. Somewhere, someone has made it, and that someone knows how to touch the Star Dance.”
“An Icarii?” said Ishbel. “This is an Icarii object?”
“I am not sure. It stinks of Icarii, and I can’t imagine who or what else could have made it, but yet there is something foreign about that sense. An Icarii…but not quite…Ah, I don’t know. It is a mystery, and one I shall look forward to solving.”
He gave a lopsided grin and packed the pyramid away again.
“You said it was a communication device,” said Zeboath, “and you said that you knew of three. Isaiah has one, Ba’al’uz’ one you now have, but who has the third?”
Axis glanced at Ishbel. “The third is in the hands of the Lord of the Skraelings, a man called Lister.”
Axis had thought Ishbel might react to mention of the Skraelings and might have jumped to a conclusion about why Isaiah was communicating with the creatures’ lord, but her reaction was far different to what he expected.
“Lister?” she said.
“You know him, Ishbel?” Axis said.
Ishbel hesitated, then opened her mouth to speak, but just then Insharah walked over to their campfire.
“Sir,” Insharah murmured to Axis. “Madarin, the man you noted before we rode out, is sick nigh to death, I think. Can Zeboath the physician examine him?”
CHAPTER TWO
Palace of the First, Yoyette, Coroleas
Salome could not wake up. She was vaguely aware that the night had passed, and that she had slept right through the day, but, oh, she could not move, could barely breathe, could only lie, lost in a maze of dreams.
Icarii, tens of thousands of them, spiraling over an ice-clad peak so high it dwarfed an entire continent.
A woman, black-haired and beautiful, screaming in agony as wings were torn from her back.
StarDrifter, standing not in the topiary garden, but in a mysterious dark forest, holding out his hand in seduction.
Her own mother, standing at a window in the Palace of the First, waiting in the night for a shape to spiral down from the heavens.
StarDrifter again, screaming himself as terrifying creatures tore out his wings, and murdered a lovely birdwoman before him.
A woman that StarDrifter had loved before all others.
Salome’s own back burned, and she moaned, remembering—even though she knew she should not be able to—that day when she was three and her mother had taken her down the back streets of Yoyette, to a man who specialized in…
Removing wing buds.
It must have hurt, even though the tiny child Salome had been given strong drugs to render her unconscious. In her dreams Salome imagined the pain she must have endured, imagined the days and nights spent twisting in agony as her mother applied soothing poultices to her back.
Imagined her screams and whimpers, and her mother begging her to remain silent in case her husband, and the man Salome had always called “father,” came to inquire the reason he’d not seen his daughter for days on end.
The pain in her back increased, and Salome drifted closer to consciousness. She was fighting to wake now, hating the sense of being out of control, not being able to move…
Oh, gods, she was lying on her belly, exposing her back to full sight!
She tried to roll over, but now the pain in her back was coupled with a great weight, as if someone leaned down on her.
“No need to struggle so, you contemptuous bitch. Your secret is out.”
She recognized the voice. It was the emperor.
No, this must be a dream also. This could not be happening.
Someone hit her on the side of her head, hard and cruel, and Salome gave a great cry, and managed to open her eyes.
Someone—the emperor—was leaning over her.
Another man, no, two men, were holding her down at shoulders and hips so the emperor could trace his fingers down her back.
Down her scar.
“No!” Salome screamed, trying desperately to struggle, but was unable to move under the men’s hands and the remaining effects of the drug.
She had been drugged. The Icarii bastard had drugged her!
Then the full import of her plight struck Salome.
Her outside blood had been discovered. She would be thrown out of the First. Her son would become a slave. Gods…gods! Everything was over.
Salome thought of all the people who loathed her, and quickly realized she would be very lucky to survive into the next day.
Her panic was indescribable. She had no anger, not at the moment, only an all-consuming desperation to survive, somehow.
“To think what we’ve been hiding in our midst all this time,” the emperor said, and Salome could hear the sheer joy underscoring his words.
His greatest enemy. Undone.
And undone so badly…
The emperor stood back, and Salome did not try to speak. There was nothing to say.
But, oh, where was Ezra? What had they done with her son?
“Toss her out on the midden heap,” said the emperor, “and tie her to a stake, so that any who wish revenge for all her slights over the years may take it at their leisure.”
The grip of the men holding her changed, and they hauled Salome naked from the bed.
Just as they dragged her toward the door, Salome managed to say something.
“Fools,” she whispered hoarsely, “you have been distracted from the true crime enacted here. Look, he has taken the Weeper. StarDrifter has taken the Weeper.”
CHAPTER THREE
Northern Plains of Isembaard
Axis and Zeboath rose at the same time.
“Madarin?” said Axis to Insharah. “I thought you said he had a bellyache from eating too much eel pie.”
“That is all I thought it was,” said Insharah, “and all Madarin thought it was. But he grew very quiet during the day’s ride, and didn’t eat anything at camp. Over the past hour his pain has become immeasurably worse, and he is gray and sweating.”
“I’ll look at him,” said Zeboath, hurrying off to rummage in his pack for his physician’s bag.
Axis followed him. He hated it when men under his command fell ill. He could deal with horrific battle wounds, but somehow the silent attack of disease and illness unsettled him far more. Even in his full power as Star-Man, Axis had been unable to do anything for internal illnesses or raging fevers. He’d always had to leave it to women and physicians.
Madarin lay wrapped in blankets, curled about his belly. Even in the firelight Axis could see clearly that the skin of his face was gray and slick with sweat, and that his body trembled. He was biting his lip, trying not to moan.
Madarin was clearly very, very ill.
“Stars,” Axis mutte
red, “I hope Zeboath can do something.”
The physician arrived at that moment, bag in hand, shooing Insharah and Axis back, and asking one of the other soldiers to build up the fire.
“He’s in shock,” Zeboath said. “He will need the warmth.”
“Shock?” said Axis. “Why?”
Zeboath held up a hand, silently asking for time. He knelt at Madarin’s side, and very gently persuaded him to uncurl so that Zeboath might examine him.
For long, tense minutes, Zeboath probed at Madarin’s chest and belly. At times, when Zeboath’s fingers dug too deep, Madarin let out a shriek and Zeboath muttered an apology. Finally, Zeboath patted Madarin on the shoulder, told him he would mix him a pain remedy, and stood and motioned Axis and Insharah to one side.
The tight, anxious faces of the troop followed them.
“It is not good news,” Zeboath said. “He has an obstruction within his bowel, and his bowel has gone into spasm and twisted about itself. Now Madarin’s entire abdominal cavity is inflamed and, as you have seen, he has gone into shock. I need to give him some pain relief, fast.”
“But you can fix it,” said Axis.
Zeboath looked him directly in the eye. “It may resolve itself, Axis, but, no, I cannot ‘fix it.’ More likely he will develop such a massive infection within his belly from the inflammation and obstruction that he will die within days. I can relieve the pain and the spasms, but that is all I can do.”
Axis stared at him, then gave a small shake of his head. So be it.
“There must be something else!” said Insharah.
“I’m sorry,” Zeboath said. “I just can’t—”
“Perhaps I can,” said Ishbel, and all three men turned about in surprise.
She stood just a pace away.
“How?” said Axis.
“I have some skill in the, um, unraveling of intestines.”
“Skill?” said Zeboath.
“Please,” Ishbel said, “will you trust me? I can help this man, and even if not, what harm in allowing me to try?”
Axis and Zeboath exchanged a glance, then Axis nodded. “Very well.”
Ishbel nodded and stepped over to Madarin.
Like Zeboath, she sank down on her knees next to the man. She put a hand on his shoulder—Axis thought she might smile in reassurance, but her face remained grave—and rolled the man fully onto his back.
“I need you to stay straight, and still,” she said. “Can you do that?”
Madarin’s eyes were glassy with pain and shock, but he managed a tiny nod.
“Good,” said Ishbel, then she pulled back the blankets covering the man, unlaced his breeches, pulling them down to his hips, and ran a hand gently over his abdomen.
As she did so, the man’s abdomen roiled, and he cried out in pain.
There were gasps from about the circle, and many shifted uneasily.
Ishbel’s hand continued to move slowly over Madarin’s abdomen. She closed her eyes, bowing her head, concentrating, and her hand stilled.
No one moved. Every eye was fixated on Ishbel.
“You have not respected the Coil,” Ishbel muttered, her head still down, her eyes still closed. “It rebels.”
“The eel pie—” Madarin began, his voice rasping.
“Be quiet!” Ishbel said. Then, suddenly, her hand dug deep into Madarin’s belly, and he screamed in pain, his back arching so far off the ground his weight was supported only by his shoulders and hips.
Everyone moved then, stepping forward, but Ishbel’s head jerked up and her eyes blazed. “Stay back!”
Axis raised a hand, stilling everyone’s forward movement. “Stay back,” he said, “for the moment. Gods, Ishbel, I hope you know what you are doing…”
She ignored him. Her hand continued to press into Madarin’s flesh, so deeply it appeared almost to disappear from view.
Then she released its tight grip and, very gently, very quietly, began to rub her hand in a complex pattern over Madarin’s belly.
He was still shrieking, but his body had relaxed back to the ground.
Ishbel’s hand continued to move, slowly, gently, and now her own body swayed back and forth, slowly, gently, following the movement of her hand.
Axis was fixated. He could not drag his eyes away from Ishbel, now weaving back and forth almost as if she were cradling a child, her eyes closed once more, her face peaceful, her hand moving, ever more slowly, ever more gently.
She was using a power he’d never seen before.
Madarin’s shrieks eased back to moans.
“That is amazing,” Zeboath whispered at Axis’ side. “Astounding!”
Ishbel drew in a deep breath, and opened her eyes.
Her hand paused, then moved up to the bottom of Madarin’s rib cage.
Then, very slowly, very deliberately, Ishbel traced out a serpentine path with her forefinger from the man’s rib cage down to his groin.
“You are the servant of the Great Serpent now,” Ishbel said to Madarin, who was completely quiet and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes. “Revere him.”
Then she stood, slow and graceful, and walked back to the campfire she shared with Zeboath and Axis.
Far to the north, in Escator, Maximilian rode through the night. He’d led his party out of Ruen at noon, having convened a hasty meeting of the Privy Council of Preferred Nobles. He’d left his crown and his authority with the Council, Lixel as its head, and vowed to them that he would return.
As he rode, Maximilian often glanced to the east where the Outlands warred with Pelemere and Hosea, and imagined he could hear the opening clash of steel in battle and the screams of dying men.
With him rode two Emerald Guardsmen, Serge and Doyle. Egalion had recommended them highly, saying they were men of particular resource and skill.
At that, Maximilian’s mouth had twisted wryly. In their lives before they’d been condemned to the Veins, Serge and Doyle had been assassins for hire.
But Serge and Doyle did not quite make up Maximilian’s entire party. During the midafternoon Serge had gestured into the sky, and Maximilian looked up to see BroadWing and three other Icarii descending.
“We will come with you,” BroadWing had said, refusing to listen to Maximilian’s protestations. “You are not our king, so your commands have no force with us. We can help you, Maximilian. Do not refuse us.”
Maximilian hadn’t. The Icarii would be useful—more than useful—and he liked their company.
So now they rode through the night, their horses’ pounding hooves eating up the miles, while the Icarii wheeled overhead. The traveling eased Maximilian’s mind. He was doing something, he was taking control rather than being battered by circumstance, and he was traveling to snatch back the woman he loved.
Elcho Falling could wait until he had Ishbel again.
“Just a ward of the Coil, Ishbel,” Axis said as he sat down. “Really? Perhaps you may now like to explain that a little more fully.”
Ishbel sighed as Zeboath also sat. She felt drained from the energy expended in healing Madarin, but also, conversely, energized. She had always worried that the baby within her would disrupt her Coil and separate her from her powers as archpriestess.
But tonight had proved otherwise. Her Coil was as strong as it had always been.
“You are a member of the Coil?” Zeboath said, his eyes wide. “I have heard of them!”
“Well,” said Axis, “according to Ishbel she is only—”
“Peace,” said Ishbel, sighing again. She hesitated, reluctant to speak the truth even though it must now be blindingly obvious she was far more than just a ward of the Coil. But what would Axis and Zeboath say when they knew the truth? She liked both of them, and enjoyed their company, and wouldn’t want to—
“Ishbel,” said Axis, very gently, “I don’t want to judge you. I am intrigued by you, and by what you said to me last night about the ancient evil. Tell me of Serpent’s Nest, and of your life there. If you have hear
d anything of my life, then you must know some of my stupidities.” Axis gave a small deprecating smile. “I am the last person to judge you, and I think that after tonight’s little display Zeboath admires you far too much to even consider it. Trust us, Ishbel.”
“Yet you were willing enough to taunt me the other night with your ‘rather vile band of psychic murderers.’”
“I was wrong to say that, Ishbel, and I apologize to you for it. Tell us about Serpent’s Nest. Tell us about you.”
Ishbel studied her hands for a long time. Then, when she finally raised her head, she spoke calmly, and Axis had a glimpse of her inner strength and dignity.
“As you know, Serpent’s Nest is home to the Coil, an order that worships and tends to the Great Serpent.”
“The Great Serpent is a god?” said Axis.
“Yes. We only ever see him in visions during Readings, or on other very rare occasions when he reveals himself to us.”
“You are a member of this order,” Axis said.
“Yes.” Ishbel tilted her chin slightly. “I am its archpriestess.”
Axis drew a soft breath between his teeth, and heard Zeboath do the same. He glanced at him, and saw that the physician’s eyes were now almost popping out of his head.
“The knowledge of anatomy that you must have!” Zeboath said. “Would you mind, later, when you have the time and are strong enough, sharing some of that knowledge with me?”
Ishbel looked at him with some surprise, and Axis thought she must have been expecting judgment. Instead, she received breathless admiration.
Ishbel smiled, just very slightly. “Well, yes, Zeboath, I will gladly do that. I am sure there is much we can teach each other.”
Axis was now a little irritated, as obviously Zeboath knew more about the Coil than did he. “Ishbel, tell me of the Coil, and what you do within it.”
“We tend to the Great Serpent, and protect and honor him as best we may. We also conduct Readings, in which the Great Serpent speaks to us, and reveals…” She hesitated. “The Great Serpent is an oracle, Axis, of great mystery. He can reveal the future to us, or for any who desire to know it.”
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