They were whole. No longer half-breeds of any manner, but whole.
Bingaleal took a few steps forward to meet Eleanon. They stopped a pace or two apart, Eleanon somewhat awkward, Bingaleal poised and confident.
"What do you here, Eleanon?" Bingaleal said.
"Come to see what has become of my brother," Eleanon replied. He hesitated, hating himself for it in the face of Bingaleal's self-possession. "I come on behalf of the Lealfast Nation, Bingaleal. Come to see what path it is you have chosen."
Bingaleal nodded, then swept a hand out behind and to one side of him. "Sit down, brother, and we shall talk."
As they sat cross-legged, the ranks of the Lealfast behind Bingaleal faded from view. They were still there, Eleanon could sense them, but to those only of ordinary vision it would have appeared that the two birdmen sat alone in the deserted plain outside Hairekeep.
"I have become Elcho Falling's enemy," Bingaleal said.
That shocked Eleanon. Not so much what Bingaleal had expressed, but the stark manner in which he had done so.
"Tell me," Eleanon said. "What has become of you, Bingaleal, and all our comrades?"
Bingaleal did not immediately reply. He drew in a deep breath, raising his eyes and focusing them in the far distance.
"I have entered into the One," he said eventually, softly. His eyes suddenly refocused, very sharply, on Eleanon.
"And where did that lead you?" Eleanon said, equally as soft.
"It led me into a promise," Bingaleal said. "It showed me a path toward a world of power and fulfilment.
It showed me a clear path, Eleanon, step by step, toward what we have always lusted after. Our own future. Beholden to no one. Despised by no one."
"And the price?" Eleanon said.
"There is no price."
"There is always a price, brother." Eleanon sighed. "Bingaleal, I come before you today because I, as all our brothers and sisters, felt the change in you and those who came into Isembaard with you." He put his hand on his chest. "We feel it here. We felt it, and we yearn for it, and it was all I could do to stop the entire Nation following me down here...but there is still a little bit of me, Bingaleal, which remains cautious. What has the One offered you, what has he shown you, and what is the price he demands?"
"He has shown us a future free of our Skraeling blood, a future in which the Icarii kneel before us in humility, a future in which we no longer inhabit frozen wastes. The price? Only one price. The destruction of Elcho Falling and of its master."
"But Elcho Falling and its master is what we have dreamed of for millennia, Bingaleal."
Bingaleal smiled in genuine compassion. "Yet look to what the Lord of Elcho Falling has become, Eleanon. He cannot give us what we need. Not anymore. Now, brother, tell me. What do you here?
Does Axis know where you are?"
Eleanon told Bingaleal what had happened--the slaughter at the hands of Armat, Axis' subsequent contemptuous dismissal of Eleanon, and the StarMan's belief that Eleanon and the remaining Lealfast fighters were sulking within the Sky Peaks, licking their wounds.
"Bingaleal, you have no idea what it cost me, to watch Lealfast fall from the sky, but--"
"But it has won for you Axis' disregard. I understand that and, while I grieve also for those Lealfast lost, I applaud your decision." A small smile curved about Bingaleal's face. "And so will the One, once he knows. You shall be our key into Elcho Falling, Eleanon. The One has constructed a curse with which to distract Isaiah, and shortly Maximilian and Ishbel, but it is largely meaningless. You shall be the One's key into Elcho Falling. You, Eleanon. You shall walk the One into Elcho Falling unseen while Maximilian and Isaiah and Axis fidget with worry about the curse."
Bingaleal chuckled. "You have no idea how easy this is going to be, brother."
CHAPTER FIVE
Isembaard
Isaiah and Hereward traveled relatively quickly given the circumstances of their journey. The cart worked well, although Hereward had to cling uncomfortably in order not to be catapulted out onto the uneven ground. They had little food with them, and even less water, and Isaiah pushed them hard in order to get to the first of the springs where both hoped they'd find food and water.
At least, Isaiah pushed himself hard. He woke Hereward well before dawn each day, giving her a little of their meager store of food and a sip or two of water, and then they were off, Isaiah striding resolutely forward into the predawn darkness, dragging the little cart behind him. He walked for many hours at a time, taking breaks only reluctantly, and then only when absolutely needed. Hereward thought he was pushing himself too hard, desperate to get to Maximilian Persimius before all was lost.
Hereward thought a great deal about Ishbel during the long days spent clinging to the cart as it jounced along. She'd seen the woman many times during her time at Aqhat, and had even served her luncheon on occasion. Ishbel had been the kind of woman that Hereward could only dream of being: beautiful, elegant, remote, and exuding a natural nobility that only those born into the aristocracy, and into power, could manage. Hereward had always felt like an awkward peasant around her.
Isaiah had adored her. It had been evident in his manner in her company, in his every glance and every gesture. It had been the gossip of the palace that he had finally fallen in love with a woman, and that a woman pregnant by another man.
Hereward thought Isaiah's efforts to reach Maximilian were probably in vain. She doubted that any man could resist Ishbel's allure for very long. Elcho Falling was likely already doomed.
She decided that life as a servant was much less problematical. Look where nobleness and power and purpose had brought Isaiah and Ishbel.
On the third day of their journey, about noon, they arrived at the first of the springs. It had been evident on the horizon for some two or three hours before they reached it, a green smudge of feathery palms and dense shrubbery, and Isaiah had doubled his efforts the moment he'd spotted it.
There was a wide track leading in through the vegetation and then, wonderfully, the sound and smell of water.
Isaiah almost ripped apart his canvas harness in his efforts to strip it off. He took two steps toward the water, stopped, then came back to help Hereward, struggling to rise from the cart.
He was grinning from ear to ear, and Hereward supposed she had as wide a smile on her own face.
Isaiah carried her to the water and set her down on her feet, and then both of them stripped away their dirty clothing and waded in.
Isaiah checked to make sure Hereward was steady on her feet, then sank below the surface. Hereward took another two or three steps into deeper water, then did the same.
Oh gods, it felt wonderful. She scrubbed away at her body, wishing she had soap but not minding too much--just the blessed cool water was miracle enough.
"Mind the bandage about your throat," Isaiah said to her as she resurfaced. "I'll take it off for you in a moment...let it soak and it will come away easier."
Hereward nodded, lying back and allowing the water to wash over her body. She swore she could actually feel the sweat and dried blood lifting away from her skin in great layers.
She felt movement: Isaiah coming up behind her. He took her head in his hands and massaged her scalp, then ran his hands down her shoulders and raised her upright. Very gently he eased the bandage and compression pebble away from her neck.
"There's a huge scab over the wound," he said, his fingers moving over it gently.
"Can I do without the bandage now?" Hereward said, hoping she didn't have to put the filthy thing back on again.
He nodded. "Be careful not to knock the scab free, though. It must go right down to the torn vein."
His fingers moved from her shoulders down to her upper arms.
Hereward took a deep breath.
Very slowly Isaiah ran his fingers back up her arms, over her shoulders, and then down to the rise of her breasts.
"Are you remembering how you and Ishbel used to bathe in the L
hyl?" Hereward said.
Isaiah jerked his hands away.
"You must miss her," she said, very angry with him. Isaiah did not particularly like her, yet he could not resist trying to seduce her.
She supposed he had to find some use for her, now that he'd given up so much on her behalf.
"But think," she said, "if you manage to get to Maximilian in time, and he relinquishes Ishbel, then you can--"
Isaiah's left arm suddenly slid about her waist, pulling her tight against him.
Hereward opened her mouth to protest, now incensed at his behavior, but Isaiah clamped his right hand over her mouth.
"Quiet!" he hissed into her ear. Then: "Listen."
Hereward struggled against him for a moment, still furious at being held so tight. Then she forced herself to relax, and listen.
There was something in the shrubbery to the west.
Something moving.
Isaiah's hand and arm slid away from Hereward and he started to move very quietly back to the bank, where he'd left his sword.
The sound of movement became louder--cautious footfalls, and the scrape of a body against the bushes.
Hereward swallowed, suddenly scared. Skraelings? She glanced at Isaiah, wishing he had not moved out of the water.
The Skraelings did not like water; they'd be safe enough if they stayed away from the bank.
The noise of movement grew louder, and Hereward jerked her head toward the sounds.
They were very close now.
Isaiah was moving about the pool, his sword in one hand, his eyes intent on the shrubbery. Then, suddenly, he stopped, and a look of utter disbelief came over his face.
Hereward gasped in surprise.
A large, pure white stallion had moved to the edge of the pool, and was now watching Isaiah, ears laid back, eyes rolling, breath snorting nervously.
Isaiah's entire posture changed. He laid the sword on the ground, his every movement slow and reassuring, then began to talk to the horse in a combination of soothing words and tongue clicks.
The stallion relaxed, ears flickering forward, and he lowered his head to the water and took a sip.
Isaiah came closer, keeping up the soothing monotone of sounds.
Then he was next to the stallion, stroking him down, and the horse was relaxing against him, blowing droplets of water out of his nose, and nuzzling Isaiah's chest.
"He is missing his master," Isaiah said, glancing at Hereward as he rubbed the horse's ears. "And now we have a horse with which to travel. Thank the gods!"
"I cannot believe the Skraelings managed to leave that meal alone," Hereward said.
"He must have been hiding out close to the water," Isaiah said. "Perhaps standing in it whenever the Skraelings approached." He smiled, still rubbing the horse's ears. "He must be an intelligent fellow."
The horse proved a boon. Isaiah abandoned the cart and they rode the horse, carrying with them what little supplies they needed now that they had a string of springs from which to fish and water.
On the fifth day away from the River Lhyl, they passed to the north of Sakkuth.
"You don't want to go into the city?" Hereward said from her perch behind Isaiah on the horse.
Isaiah studied the city in the distance. It looked gray and still, its great turrets and spires empty of all life.
"What are you thinking?" Hereward asked softly.
"That the city is likely full of Skraelings," he said. "That they're all staring at us from behind walls and shutters. That while the city looks empty, there are a million eyes, fed and feasted on the former inhabitants, watching our every move."
Hereward shuddered, wrapping her arms about her chest as she looked away.
"We'd best keep moving," Isaiah said, and urged the horse forward.
CHAPTER SIX
Isembaard
Bingaleal gave a small smile. "You can see what
Ihave become, Eleanon. You want it, too."
"I still harbor reservations about the One. Bingaleal, we have long known of the lore of the Magi, and of its power--"
"To touch Infinity!"
"Yes, to touch Infinity, but at what cost? With what danger? Who has managed it, eh, and emerged unscathed?"
"The One. The One is Infinity."
Eleanon did not reply. He sat thinking, staring at his hands folded before him. Bingaleal was so different.
Eleanon could feel the power within him, feel the certainty and confidence in the direction he'd taken.
But Eleanon was not sure. He wanted it so badly, yet still that tiny, cautious voice sounded in his mind.
Surely the One would demand a price.
"None," said Bingaleal, "save that we deliver to the One the citadel of Elcho Falling, and its master. I am no slave to the One, Eleanon. I am not his servant. This is a transaction only. The One can give me, us, what we have so long desired--freedom from both our Skraeling and Icarii blood--and for a single payment: Elcho Falling. He can give us our dignity and a future, Eleanon. Maximilian Persimius cannot do that. He is too weak."
"There may be a trap, Bingaleal. Why should the One be so generous?"
"Because we can aid each other. He can give us our hearts' desire. We can give him what he needs--the destruction of Elcho Falling."
"He can't do that himself?"
"Elcho Falling is still protected by ancient sorceries that even the One cannot penetrate. The One has cursed Maximilian and Ishbel--Isaiah is on his way north now, carrying news of the curse to Maximilian--which has a potential to win Elcho Falling for the One without so much as a finger lift of effort...but even so, the One would like our aid, and is willing to pay handsomely for it."
Bingaleal sat back, considering Eleanon. "Would you like to speak with him yourself?"
Then he laughed at the expression on Eleanon's face. "He will not bite, nor ensorcel your soul, Eleanon.
You shall not be enslaved."
"Do I have your promise?"
"Yes."
Eleanon reached out a hand, hesitating only slightly before he laid it on Bingaleal's arm.
He gave a breath of relief. "You are not enslaved, Bingaleal," he said. "I can feel it."
"I am only enhanced," said Bingaleal.
"Yes, I can feel that, too."
"Will you speak with the One?"
"Yes. Where?"
Bingaleal nodded toward Hairekeep. "There."
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the Road to Serpent's Nest
Maximilian and Ishbel spent six to seven hours each evening in the Twisted Tower with Josia. They used this time going through chamber after chamber, recovering lost objects and knowledge. Rediscovering objects Maximilian found increasingly easy, even in the virtually empty chambers, as he became more intuitive and more attuned to the Tower, but the lost sleep...that was growing more difficult. He'd told Josia that he could doze in the saddle, and yes, from time to time he managed that, but generally someone required his attention, and he got very little rest throughout the day. He managed two or three hours at the most from the time he returned from the Twisted Tower to when they broke camp in the early morning, but that was it.
Maximilian found himself lusting after a soft bed and an uninterrupted night.
On this morning he was riding only a short distance from Ishbel, and he pulled his horse back so that it fell into step beside hers. Apart from the occasional few minutes spent together in the Twisted Tower, they hadn't had much chance to talk over the past few days.
"You look dreadful," she said. "Exhausted."
"As always, your compliments warm my heart. Have you looked in the mirror yourself recently?"
Ishbel smiled, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "Madarin keeps it hidden from me."
"You are doing well," Maximilian said. "Where are you now? The eighth level?"
"Ninth," said Ishbel, "as well you know." She paused. "Maxel...it is so exciting."
"What?"
"The learning, the discovering. I cannot wa
it to reach Elcho Falling, and to see you raise it into the skies."
Maximilian laughed. "You could do it yourself, almost."
"Where are you now?"
"In the fifty-third level. This one is more difficult, as it is virtually empty, but Josia shouts, and I fumble, and somehow we manage."
Ishbel smiled, knowing all too well how Josia could shout, and they rode a little distance in companionable silence.
"BroadWing sent one of the Strike Force back with messages," Maximilian said after a few minutes. "He arrived early this morning."
When Maximilian would have been snatching a few hours' sleep, Ishbel thought, and resented the Icarii man's intrusion. "What news?" she said. "Axis is safe?"
"Yes," Maximilian said, and Ishbel let her shoulders slump in relief. Thank the gods. "He, Georgdi, and Zeboath were rescued from Armat's camp," Maximilian continued, "together with a Lealfast woman."
There was something in that last which made Ishbel glance sharply at him, but he did not say more about the woman.
"Axis sent news," Maximilian said.
"Yes?"
"Ravenna and Lister are with Armat."
Ishbel drew in a deep breath and studied his face carefully. "We suspected that."
"Yes, but still..."
But still it hurts, Ishbel thought. He may have cut her from his life now, but once Ravenna had meant a great deal to Maximilian.
"Lister's disloyalty turns my stomach," Ishbel said. "How many years has he manipulated people to get what he wants? And now he abandons all those manipulations to chase after another cause? Do you think he will give you your seventeen years back, Maxel?"
"Ishbel, I am not as upset as you seem to think that--"
"Well, you damn well should be."
He gave a small shrug.
"Why has Lister gone to Armat?" said Ishbel. "I can understand--just--Ravenna's blackened, jealous heart turning her loyalty, but Lister? Maxel, what is going on?"
He gave another shrug, and Ishbel repressed the urge to slap him. He knew, but he wouldn't tell her.
"Is this why you wanted me to start learning the tricks contained within the Twisted Tower?" Ishbel said.
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