This thought also he kept from her, and Isaiah sighed, and gathered Ishbel a little closer. She and Maximilian clearly had caused a rift in their relationship, and Isaiah wondered if they’d be able to close that rift by themselves.
Sometimes lovers needed a little help.
Sometimes they needed to be shown just what they had lost.
And sometimes hopeful lovers, Isaiah thought ruefully, thought up any reason they could to justify their own actions. He was more than a little in love with Ishbel himself, and most assuredly attracted to her. Sitting here so close together had set his entire body afire.
Maximilian might tear apart the earth for her, but he wasn’t here now.
“I have no real idea why Ba’al’uz sent you to me,” Isaiah said, “but the excuse he gave me was that you would make me a good wife. A wife stolen from a northern king makes a good trophy. Such a wife would consolidate my position as tyrant, Ishbel. My generals mutter, and my throne is often not as secure as I would like. Water god I may be, but when I am incarnate in flesh I am as vulnerable as any man, and the swords of my generals beckon. If you became my wife, then my position would be strengthened. You would be a help to me. It can be whatever manner of marriage you wish—a true marriage or a pretense, I do not care. Either way you will help consolidate my position.”
“I do not want a husband, pretend or otherwise, who will invade my homeland,” she said. “I still do not understand why you do that. It is not like the being I know you are.”
He gave another small shrug. “I have my reasons, Ishbel, and for the moment I cannot share them with you.”
“And this baby?” she said.
There was regret in her voice, and confusion and pain, and Isaiah was glad to hear it.
“Perhaps we can give it back to Maximilian when it is born, yes?”
That was a suggestion so close to the pact that she and Maximilian had made between them that it left Ishbel wordless.
“We shall make a marriage soon, then. I shall arrange a Spectacle, which is a somewhat grand and pretentious word for holding a high court, very formal, and announce to all and sundry—making sure my generals are present—that we were married, um, shall we say, in the heart of DarkGlass Mountain? Yes? That will give the marriage so much more importance. So much more mystery.”
Ishbel smiled, partly at his words, partly at his teasing tone.
“I do not know that I want another husband,” she said.
Isaiah laughed, very soft and low, and one of his hands strayed to her breast. “Maximilian had his serpent bride, and lost her. Now, perhaps, I shall take what has slipped through his fingers.”
Ishbel sat up and moved away from him, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“I understand you have wives already. I do not wish to be your…what? eighty-fifth? eighty-sixth? That is no honor.”
“I shall set aside my other wives, for they have never interested me. You shall be my only wife. My Favored Wife.”
Ishbel sat in the gentle, warm waters of the Lhyl, and listened to the growing chorus of the frogs in the evening.
“We can marry now,” Isaiah said to her, his eyes black in the gloom, “and, should you wish to, consummate our marriage only after the child is born.”
“Why are you so afraid of your generals?”
“Because I failed badly once, and cannot afford to again. Help me, Ishbel.”
“Put aside your lust for war, I beg you.”
“I cannot, for otherwise we all die. Marry me, Ishbel.”
“I am already married.”
“You would not wear your husband’s ring, and he lost you. Marry me, yes?”
Ishbel sat, the water lapping away all her doubts, the song of the frogs soothing her wariness, and thought about how easy and comfortable she had felt with Isaiah, and how easy and comfortable he made her feel about something that had only ever frightened her with Maximilian.
“I am not a good wife,” she said, “and I am an even worse woman.”
“I am a good teacher,” he said, and for some reason that made sense to Ishbel, and clarified her path for her.
“Very well,” she said, and hoped that the seductive touch of both Isaiah and the River Lhyl had not deprived her of all common sense. She glanced toward where she knew DarkGlass Mountain rose. “Isaiah, are we in danger from DarkGlass Mountain, and what lurks beneath it?”
“Not just yet. We have some time.”
“When can we leave here?”
“Soon, my darling. Soon.”
They eventually walked back to the palace, the servants and attendants falling in behind them as they left the riverbank, and no one among them, not even Isaiah, saw the ugly brindle dog crouched down within the reed beds.
It watched the procession all the way back to the palace, but it had eyes for nothing but Ishbel’s belly.
There lay power and, finally, finally, life and breath.
And revenge.
At DarkGlass Mountain, unseen by any living eye, shadows started to move under the glass that plated the entire pyramid as, deep in the abyss, Kanubai moved toward wakefulness, hand over hand, up the knotted rope of souls.
North, Ba’al’uz stumbled through the ruins of Setkoth, bumping and bruising his way through the tumbled masonry.
He no longer had much of a mind left, but what there was of it concentrated on one matter only.
Ishbel, her baby, and the rewards of final union with Kanubai.
CHAPTER NINE
The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard
Axis stamped his feet as he drew off his riding gloves, trying to get some circulation back into his lower legs after a long ride home. He was standing in the large courtyard that served the main stable area of the palace, and about him men and horses milled in the lamplight as almost three hundred soldiers tried to dismount and get their horses unsaddled at once.
“Axis?” It was Insharah, who had again served as his second-in-command on this expedition. Axis was growing to like and respect him very much, and had enjoyed his week away with the man and the four hundred strong column of spearmen and swordsmen.
Had enjoyed a week away in the saddle again, fighting.
“Insharah. Time to get home to your wife, eh? We were away a little longer than anticipated and she will be anxious. It is too late at night now to hang about here. Go home.”
Insharah grinned at him. “If I go home now she will berate me for waking her. Some of the men propose a game of Kus, and a barrel of barley wine. Join us?”
Axis grinned. “I must be getting old, my friend, for all I want at the moment is my bed. I’ll check with you tomorrow. Make sure those men who are injured receive proper care from the physicians.”
Insharah nodded, and walked off. Axis turned and headed for the archway that led through to the palace proper, lost in thought. The expedition had been good for him. There had been real fighting—the bandits who had been harrying the villages to the east belonged to a group almost one hundred and fifty strong, and they’d built themselves a good base in nearby mountains. There had been two days of hard fighting, several men lost, many injured, but Axis’ sword had been bloodied, and his battle lust fully ignited.
Coming back to Aqhat had caused him some gut-draining disappointment.
He wondered what Isaiah was preparing him for. Would Isaiah want to give him a large command for the invasion? And what would Axis do if this was the case? Bandits were one thing, but the last thing Axis really wanted to do was lead fighting men against the armies of the Northern Kingdoms, with whom he had no quarrel.
“Perhaps I could divert to one side,” he muttered to himself, “and skewer me some Skraelings. I wonder if Isaiah would notice.”
“That would be an interesting maneuver,” said a dry voice, and Axis jumped, then instantly felt annoyed for allowing himself to be caught unawares.
No soldier should ever relax.
Ezekiel, the eldest and most senior of Isaiah’s generals, peeled himself of
f a shadowy wall and walked into a faint pool of light cast by the moon.
“And I am quite sure Isaiah would both notice and disapprove,” the general said, coming to a halt a pace or two away from Axis.
“Then I shall have to be careful to learn your skill at shadowy movement,” said Axis, even more annoyed at himself for the sharp tone in his voice.
Now Ezekiel knows for certain he caught you off-guard.
This was the first time Axis had ever talked alone with Ezekiel, and he studied the general with undisguised frankness. What reason had the man for seeking him out?
“May I ask how your expedition went?” said Ezekiel. “Most of the men you led were once commanded by me. I have…how shall we say this, a—”
Proprietary, thought Axis.
“—fatherly interest in them.”
“We rode to the village of Mentara,” Axis said. “You know it?”
“I was born there.”
Axis felt as though he was walking over needles of glass laid down on a bed of hot coals.
“Bandits, well over a hundred strong,” Axis said, “had established a base in the mountains nearby, and were harrying villages along the road from Mentara to the Lhyl. We had to draw them out of their stronghold, then double back and clean out their camp. They were good fighters. It is a shame they didn’t want to join Isaiah’s army.”
“Isaiah loses many of his men to the lure of the mountain encampments,” Ezekiel said, and continued talking before Axis, patently curious, asked why. “Axis, let me walk you to your quarters. There is something I’d like to ask of you.”
Axis wondered if he were about to be offered a place within a cabal plotting against Isaiah, and wondered further how long he would live if he declined it.
They walked into the center of the courtyard, talking generalities, before Axis asked what was on his mind.
“Isaiah has called a Spectacle in three days time,” Ezekiel said, coming to a halt and forcing Axis to do the same. “You know what that is?”
Axis frowned. Ezekiel had drawn him into the very center of the courtyard, which the windows of Isaiah’s private quarters gazed upon. Their conversation might not be heard, but the odds that Isaiah would see them standing here talking quietly, or have someone report to him that Ezekiel and Axis had been plotting away at midnight, were astronomical.
Axis put his hands on his hips. “Yes. I know what it is. What do you want, Ezekiel?”
“I want to know what he is up to, Axis.”
“For the stars’ sakes, Ezekiel, I have been away this past week. I have no idea.”
“I have heard rumor it is to marry Ishbel. Or at least to announce the fact of their marriage.”
“Isaiah is always taking new wives,” Axis said, although the news disturbed him. He wondered what Ishbel thought about it, and wondered also that Isaiah had apparently managed to set aside his famous dislike of pregnant women.
“The palace chamberlain told me,” Ezekiel said, “that Isaiah took Ishbel deep into DarkGlass Mountain last week, while you were away, and there they married amid powerful dark magic. Is this possible?”
Axis just stared, unable for the moment to process all this information.
“Ah…” he said, stalling for time. What was Isaiah up to? Was this why Axis had been sent away for a week? So Isaiah could play?
Ezekiel was watching Axis very carefully. “How powerful is Ishbel’s husband, Maximilian?”
“Well, that I can answer readily enough,” Axis said. “Maximilian is a very quiet man, one who keeps many secrets. He is charismatic and resourceful and has survived what kills most men. You have heard his story?”
Ezekiel shook his head.
Axis briefly told the general of Maximilian’s seventeen years trapped beneath the hanging wall, and of his rescue.
“He does not control great wealth, nor great armies,” Axis concluded, “but—”
“He is a dangerous man.”
“He is a man to be watched, yes.”
Ezekiel chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. “So if Isaiah had truly won his bride from Maximilian, then Isaiah is stronger than many believe,” he said eventually. “But if Maximilian regains her, well then…”
Axis shrugged his shoulders. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” he said. “I am tired, and long for my bed.”
Ezekiel’s eyes gleamed. “The only reason I wanted to talk to you, Axis,” he said, “was to get your measure.”
And with that he turned on his heel, and was off.
Axis looked after him for a long moment, then glanced upward to Isaiah’s windows.
The tyrant was standing there, looking down.
Axis thought for a moment about going to see him, but then decided he was too tired, so he, in turn, spun on his heel and strode for the stairway to his apartment.
Isaiah would have to wait.
CHAPTER TEN
Northern Isembaard
Ba’al’uz? Ba’al’uz? Where are you?
Ba’al’uz had been driving himself for weeks now, feeding on little more than the power infused into him by Kanubai.
He had not eaten in over two weeks, and had not drunk any liquid in ten days. He had not slept in five days. By rights, his body should have shut down, if not died, but Ba’al’uz kept on walking, eyes wide and staring in a face leathered and battered by deprivation and the elements. His gait was uneven, his clothes tattered, his mind occupied with only two thoughts: to gain Aqhat, and regain Kanubai’s favor.
Those that saw him stared, then stumbled away, desperate not to come to his notice.
Ba’al’uz appeared not merely crazed, but as if gray shadows of sorrow, or maybe retribution, trailed behind him.
Ba’al’uz? Ba’al’uz? Where are you?
“Setkoth,” Ba’al’uz managed to get out on his fifth attempt at mouthing the word. “Setkoth.”
Not far from Aqhat then.
“Three days, Great One, no more.”
Excellent. Ba’al’uz, you do need to hurry. I should not want to have to use someone else to carry out my desires.
“I will hurry, Great One. I will.”
You must, you must. Nearer and nearer draws the time.
Ba’al’uz lurched on, one insane footstep after the other.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The FarReach Mountains, Southern Kyros
They’d made good distance over the past few days, mainly because Salome was no longer feeling quite so fatigued. The two guides traveling with her were palpably relieved, to Salome’s grim amusement.
What man ever liked a weak woman?
Gods, she hated them, too.
StarDrifter was not far ahead. Salome could sense it. She wasn’t sure why, or how she knew this—perhaps that extraordinary sexual magnetism somehow communicated itself to her, even now—but just ahead he most certainly was.
The weather was sliding deeper into autumn. The mornings were frosty, the nights had that edge of ice to them associated with winter, and made sleeping uncomfortable. Salome was glad that StarDrifter was still this side of the FarReach Mountains. At least she could deal with him now, finish what lay between them, without having to voyage through the mountains in ever-deteriorating weather.
On this day they were traveling at a brisk trot along a little-used path, heading directly for the mountains that rose perhaps a day’s ride away; pink and purple massifs that wore tangled clouds about their snowy peaks and promised enormous hardship for those foolish enough to risk the passes. The guides had told Salome that few people dared to try—the FarReach Mountains effectively cut off Isembaard from the Northern Kingdoms.
Salome didn’t care about the mountains.
All she wanted was her chance at StarDrifter.
In the midafternoon, when she was tired enough that her attention had begun to lag, one of the guides murmured a caution.
“Someone approaches.”
Salome jerked to full attention, looking ahead.
; A lone rider, a man, approached them on the road. He was bare-headed and unarmed, and did not appear surprised to see the three travelers halting their horses.
He pulled his own horse to a stop a few paces away from Salome and her guides.
“My name is Maximilian,” he said. “Of Escator.”
Salome frowned, trying to remember where she’d heard that name. It may not have come to her so quickly, had not she noticed the sudden servile demeanor of the guides.
“Oh,” she said, “you’re the King of Escator.”
He smiled very slightly. “Yes. I am the King of Escator.”
Salome’s frown deepened. There’d been some trouble with the King of Escator. In fact, there had always been trouble, of one sort or another, associated with this man’s life. Salome tried to remember the details, but her life had been so centered on Coroleas and on her own schemes that she’d paid scant attention to what happened elsewhere in the world.
“I’m sorry,” she said vaguely, and hoped that would cover most eventualities in this man’s history.
His smile widened, his dark blue eyes danced, and Salome suspected she had just made a complete fool of herself.
“That is very good of you,” he said, and Salome knew she had made a fool of herself.
She opened her mouth to make a tart comment (for the gods’ sakes, this man was a nobody king of a nothing kingdom!), but Maximilian continued speaking, addressing the two guides.
“I assume you are here to guide the Lady Salome?”
Salome’s mouth, already open, hung a little wider in her shock. How had he known who she was?
One of the guides nodded. “She hired us in Narbon, sire, to bring her south. She’s looking for a man.”
“StarDrifter SunSoar,” said Maximilian. “Yes, I know.” He looked directly at Salome. “He is back at my camp, Salome, waiting for you. An hour’s ride away.”
Then he addressed the guides again. “The lady has paid you? Yes? Then your task is done, my good men. She and I thank you, and I shall take over the lady’s care from this point. You may return to Narbon.”
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