The Twisted Citadel

by Sara Douglass

  "Has Maximilian told you--" Ishbel began.

  "Yes. He spent last night with Egalion and myself. Ishbel, what a tale. I...had no idea..."

  "You must think poorly of me."

  "No. Not at all. Not now having heard so much of who Maxel is and will be, and of who you are and were, and of how the both of you were manipulated by so many around you. Vorstus...I had no idea...I

  cannot believe how Maxel has not taken a knife to him. And Lister, and what he did to you...Ishbel, it has been a tragedy." He thought a moment. "And the greater tragedy is that you and Maxel are now estranged."

  Estranged, thought Ishbel. Such a stiff word for what has happened between us.

  And how inappropriate, she thought, with a little start of self-realization. Currently she and Maximilian were at their least "estranged." They'd been far more estranged when they'd shared a bed and a marriage.

  She gave a shrug as her only answer.

  "You know that once I was opposed to your marriage," Garth said.

  Ishbel gave a nod.

  "I wish..." Garth said, then trailed off. "This is very awkward," he finished.

  Ishbel looked at him at that. "I had thought you would dislike me even more once Maxel had told his tale."

  "No," he said. "It has made me see, made me wish, that you and Maxel--"

  "It won't happen, Garth. Too much has gone wrong between us. There has been too much tragedy. No one survives that."

  "You and he should--"

  "No, Garth. No. It is better the way it is now." Ishbel smiled wryly. "We have never got on so well, or so honestly, as when we are good friends working together toward a single cause rather than lovers or spouses. At least we can be at peace this way."

  Garth thought that "at peace" didn't quite manage to describe either Ishbel or Maximilian right now, but he let it pass. He did not want to interfere. Whatever happened was up to the gods.

  "I spoke with Ravenna this morning," Garth said.

  "Ah."

  "I thought at the time that she has changed so much, but then, after some reflection, I wondered if she had changed at all. I don't know. She was so unknowable even as a girl, and so determined always to get her own way." He fell silent again. "Whatever friendship that once was between us has gone, I think."

  Ishbel didn't respond to that.

  "I feel for Venetia," said Garth. "She is a woman I admire greatly."

  "I have had little to do with her," said Ishbel, "but from my few brief meetings, yes, I think I would like her, too. I cannot believe she could have a daughter like Ravenna. Who on earth did she choose as the father?"

  Garth gave a funny half smile. "I think Ravenna's father is my father. We're half-brother and sister."

  Ishbel stared at him. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again.

  "I cannot be sure," said Garth, "but my father has always been awkward and secretive about Venetia--and she about him. I think that when he was younger, he must have gone to Venetia to talk with her about her herbal cures, and she seduced him, perhaps, much as Ravenna seduced Maxel, but without the ulterior motive."

  "Ulterior motive?" Ishbel said.

  "Ishbel...Ravenna said something to me this morning. She said that she had conceived the child not to trap Maxel, but to save Elcho Falling." Should Maximilian refuse to see Ishbel for what she truly was, but this Garth did not say.

  Ishbel sighed. "Garth, I do not wish to speak about Ravenna's child."

  "I'm sorry, Ishbel." Garth thought of the child Ishbel had lost, and both her and Maximilian's distress over it. Ravenna's pregnancy could not be easy for Ishbel. "I feel I should also apologize for Ravenna."

  "You have no need to apologize for her, Garth!"

  "Nonetheless, someone has to, and it was I who involved her in Maximilian's life in the first instance. Oh gods, Ishbel, I can't believe he slept with her!"

  Ishbel laughed at the affront in his voice. "I had thought that you'd sympathize with her."

  Garth shook his head. "Ravenna has ever been her own person." He glanced at Ishbel. "I was quite desperately in love with her myself, you know, when we were young."

  "Then you had a lucky escape. Particularly if she is, as you think, your half-sister."

  He laughed, and they looked at each other.

  "I think we might be friends, Ishbel," Garth said.

  "That would be a relief, Garth. You are too likeable for me to be bothered trying to maintain a dislike of you."

  They shared a smile, then looked around at the sound of hoofbeats behind them. Maximilian rode up, pulling his horse in on the other side of Ishbel's.

  "No knives?" he said.

  "No knives," Garth and Ishbel said as one, and they shared another smile.

  They chatted about inconsequential things, before Ishbel finally asked Maximilian where Lister and Vorstus were within the column.

  "Far enough away that I cannot see them," Maximilian said, somewhat shortly.

  "Lister came to see me last night," Ishbel said. "To make friends, I think. I don't know. Maybe to gauge my residual loyalty. Perhaps to tell me what he thought I ought to be doing."

  "More likely the latter," Maximilian said. He glanced at the satchel tied to the back of Ishbel's saddle.

  "Have you touched the crown?"

  "Yes," said Ishbel. "It is a grim thing." She shot him a look, and a brief smile. "It had a talk with me."

  "I don't want to know what it said," said Maximilian. Then he, too, smiled. "Strange. I didn't hear you run screaming from your tent at the sound of its voice."

  "We all change, Maxel."

  "Aye, we all change." Now Maximilian looked at Garth. "And what think you of Vorstus, my friend?

  You were close, once."

  "A long time ago, Maxel," Garth said. "As once Ravenna and I were. As you said, we all change." He paused, thinking. "I am almost not surprised to hear he has been so duplicitous and so manipulative.

  Frankly, Maxel, I'd set the pair of them to digging out the latrine ditches each night when we make camp."

  All three smiled, and the shared amusement gave Garth the encouragement to ask something that had been feeding his curiosity ever since Maximilian had told him Ishbel was, in fact, the Archpriestess of the Coil.

  "Ishbel," he said, "when first Maximilian received news of the Coil's offer of a new bride, no one truly knew what to think about you."

  "I am sure you are being very diplomatic, Garth," said Ishbel.

  "We all advised Maxel against you," said Garth. "We thought you'd be nothing but trouble. But Vorstus argued that Maxel would know if you were a priestess of the Coil, because you were sure to be marked.

  But...Maxel has mentioned no mark...and he said he did not know for certain that you were a member of the Coil--let alone its archpriestess--until he found you in Sakkuth."

  He left the question unasked, but dangling in the air between them.

  "I can assure you," said Ishbel, "that Maxel looked for it. Very diligently."

  She paused, enjoying the moment, keeping her eyes ahead.

  "He just didn't look in quite the right place," she said eventually, a smile taking any sting out of her words. "And he's lost his chance now."

  Further up the column, the soldier Rimmert rode his horse up to join Insharah's.

  "There is deep unhappiness, my lord," Rimmert said to Insharah. "Every man among us wonders why we continue on this road to Elcho Falling, when we'd be doing more good further south."

  "Enough, Rimmert."

  Rimmert studied Insharah. The man's voice had lacked conviction, and Rimmert noted that there were deep lines of worry and sleeplessness about his eyes.

  "What are we doing here, Insharah?" Rimmert said, lapsing back into old familiarity. "There is word that Armat has consolidated his forces to the east, and even now prepares to march south to Isembaard."

  "Rimmert--"

  "That word, Insharah, has spread like wildfire throughout the troops. Armat is acting, while..
.here?"

  Rimmert spat to one side. "We are merely riding toward some vague glory. I don't know. I just don't know, Insharah. Elcho Falling has nothing to do with us, while the fate of Isembaard and our families has everything to do with us. Everyone believes we would be better south than--"

  "Enough, Rimmert!"

  Rimmert gave Insharah a long, hard look. "Tonight fully one hundred thousand men are going to desert...if `desert' is the right term to abandon a man and cause to which we owe no loyalty. I will be with them. It is your choice, Insharah, whether you allow us to go, whether you alert Axis...

  "Or whether you join us."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Isembaard

  Isaiah stood, stretching out his muscles and looking around him. It had been two days now since he'd discovered Hereward and the Book of the Soulenai.

  Both had complicated everything.

  He'd wanted to continue further south, surveying the damage that had been done to Isembaard (and to his river), and discovering what had happened to Kanubai and to the pyramid.

  In the latter case, Isaiah now had a very clear idea of what had happened to Kanubai, and had no need to travel south to investigate what had happened to the pyramid.

  It was coming north with supernatural strides, coming to talk to him.

  Isaiah could not have moved in any case. Shortly after he handed the Book of the Soulenai back to Hereward, Skraelings had begun to congregate nearby.

  Not close, perhaps fifty paces away, but within hours thousands upon thousands of the wraiths had encircled them. Still, silent, hunched on the ground staring with their great silvered orbs hanging from their dog faces.

  They allowed Isaiah and Hereward to visit the riverboat on two occasions to retrieve some supplies, but would not allow them to move any greater distance from their small camp by the side of the glassed river.

  Isaiah knew their purpose was to keep him there for the One's visit.

  The One. The physical manifestation of mathematical perfection, as once worshipped by the Magi?

  The wait was troublesome, not merely because Isaiah was highly wary of any confrontation between himself and the One--did it want to negotiate with him or destroy him?--but also because of Hereward.

  Isaiah did not like her very much, and she, so far as he understood, loathed him. She also perplexed him, for he did not know how to treat her. His life as a Tyrant had been spent dealing with generals and soldiers, with nobles, with legends and heroes. The slaves and servants at his palace of Aqhat had been all but invisible to him. Isaiah had dealt with his palace chamberlain--he knew the man's name, and he knew some of the man's life beyond his role as chamberlain--but as for the others who served him, and who slipped in and out of the shadows of the palace...he had no idea.

  He'd recognized Hereward's face when first he'd seen her, so Isaiah knew he'd seen her about the palace--she'd very likely served both him and Ishbel within his private chambers--but she'd made no impression.

  Kitchen steward?

  He stretched the muscles in his back, then decided to sit down, and perhaps engage the woman in some conversation.

  Anything to relieve the tension of waiting for the One.

  "You worked directly under the palace chamberlain?" Isaiah said, trying to keep his mild dislike for the woman out of his voice.

  Hereward, who had been looking at the book in her lap, now raised her gaze to his. "Yes. I reported to him. I organized all the meals in the palace, from what appeared on your breakfast platter to what the slaves scavenged in the stables, and supervised the kitchens."

  "An important role then. I must thank you."

  "If you must. I care not."

  Isaiah sighed. "Hereward. I can apologize again if you like. I am sorry that--"

  "Oh for gods' sakes, Isaiah. You're just uncomfortable talking to someone who is so far beneath you.

  Leave it."

  Isaiah was sorely tempted to "just leave it," but Hereward was by now becoming a serious irritation.

  "Not everyone has time to take every slave under their wing and offer them endless kindness and compassion, Hereward."

  "I was not a slave!"

  "My mistake." No mistake at all. If she'd held such an important role within the palace then she could never have been a slave, but, as irritated and apprehensive as he was, Isaiah couldn't resist taking the time to needle her.

  They sat silently for some minutes, each careful not to look at the other, before Hereward finally spoke.

  "What is happening, Isaiah? Our world is destroyed--do you not owe me some explanation?"

  "Ancient demons and gods are risen, Hereward. I'm sorry, it is probably too much for you to take in, so I'll--"

  "Oh, you are a true bastard, aren't you! Everyone not of your own nobility is a dimwitted ass whom you can safely either ignore or pity. None of you care one jot for anyone beneath you!"

  "That's not true, Hereward. We--"

  "Don't lie to me. Tell me, did Ezekiel take his family north with him? With your invasion?"

  Isaiah was disorientated by the sudden question. "Ezekiel? Ah...yes, his three sons were with the invasion and I believe his wife and daughters traveled with the convoy as well."

  "Not all his daughters, Isaiah."

  "Sorry?"

  "I am Ezekiel's daughter, got on a slave one drunken night...and left to die while those born of a noble mother were taken north to revel in the glories and riches of victorious invasion."

  "By the gods, your well of bitterness is bottomless!"

  Hereward's jaw clenched and she looked away. "All I want to do is get away from you," she said. "All I

  want is to get to some kind of safety, and live some kind of life. If I can't have that, then all I want is to die. Damn it. Damn it! Take this book, Isaiah, and do with it what you want! Just let me go."

  She got to her feet and threw the book at Isaiah, who caught it awkwardly. "Let me go," she said again.

  "It is not I keeping you here, Hereward."

  Hereward stared about at the distant circle of Skraelings. Eventually she lowered her face into her hands and turned her back to Isaiah.

  He sighed, and looked down the river.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  On the Road to Serpent's Nest

  My lord, Commander Insharah wishes to speak with you." Maximilian paused with the razor halfway down his cheek, looking up at Doyle.

  The man had a somewhat cynical smile on his face.

  "Send him in, Doyle. Thank you."

  As soon as Doyle had turned away, Maximilian looked back to the mirror, staring at his reflection.

  He was amazed Insharah had stayed as long as he had.

  Insharah ducked inside the tent, and Maximilian resumed his careful shaving. "Yes?"

  "My lord," Insharah began, then stopped.

  "Sit down, Insharah. There is no need to--"

  "I would prefer to remain standing, my lord."

  Maximilian gave a slight shrug.

  "I have been speaking with some of the men," Insharah said. "There is trouble."

  "There is always trouble," said Maximilian, putting the razor down and wiping his face clean of soap with a towel. "Define this particular trouble, if you please."

  Insharah took a deep breath. "Many of the men are going to desert tonight, my lord. Tens of thousands, but there may well be more."

  Maximilian quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not speak.

  "They are so worried about their families," said Insharah. "And about what is happening back in Isembaard. We--"

  "I know, Insharah," Maximilian said.

  "My lord," Insharah said, "many of the men, myself included, have been having nightmares. Dreams that are not true dreams, showing us our families in terrible plight--"

  "They are dreams sent by a witch," Maximilian said.

  "They are reflections of our troubled consciences," said Insharah.

  "You want to join those leaving," Maximilian said.

 
Insharah hesitated, then gave a terse nod. "I have a wife and children in Isembaard. At Aqhat." Again he paused. "Not everyone wants to leave, my lord," Insharah said. "Many will stay, and follow you to Elcho Falling."

  "Really? How many?"

  "Perhaps ten thousand," Insharah said, very quietly.

  "Out of what? A quarter of a million?"

  "I am sorry, my lord. I don't know what I can say to--"

  "You don't need to make me feel better, Insharah." Maximilian paused, thinking, the fingers of one hand tapping on the top of his shaving table. "Insharah, move among the army and tell the men that whoever wants to is free to leave to follow his conscience. They can take what stores they need--I ask only that you leave enough stores and spare horses for myself and my party, my Emerald Guard, and whoever decides to remain with me. I ask also that you respect the land and the peoples you move through once you do leave. The Outlanders have done you no wrong, and I would not have you wrong them."

  "You are just going to let us go?" said Insharah. "Just like that?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "Maximilian's forces abandon him," Ravenna said. "What is he doing, to so let them go?"

  She sat with Lister and Vorstus in the tent they used. It was small, but it had a good brazier, and they all sat about it, staring into its warmth.

  "Ishbel is the canker," Ravenna said.

  Lister tipped his head as if agreeing, but he wasn't ready to heap all the blame on Ishbel's head. He thought Maximilian deserved to shoulder a fair weight of it, too.

  What was the man doing to allow the majority of his army to defect? Did he not know that sooner or later an army of horror was going to seethe up from the south?

  "What should we do?" Ravenna said.

  "Watch," said Lister, "and wait. Yes, yes, I know you want to act, but I would prefer to hear news of Isaiah and what awaits us from the south first."

  Ravenna looked between Vorstus and Lister. "How much faith do you have remaining in Maximilian?"

  "Not a great deal," Vorstus said. "We think that Ishbel may have been a vast error on our part."

  Then, as one, both Lister and Vorstus looked at Ravenna.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR