by Sara Douglas
Maximilian looked at StarDrifter as he spoke, and StarDrifter realized there was a connection he should be making...some decision he should be announcing. He tried to marshal his thoughts...oh, yes...
"It will soon be time for you to leave us, BroadWing," StarDrifter said, smiling for the man. "Head back into the safety of the north."
"Hardly `safety,'" BroadWing muttered, sitting down beside StarDrifter. During their trips back to buy food, the Icarii had heard snatches of gossip about the escalating wars between the Central Kingdoms.
The Outlands had invaded Pelemere, the fighting stretching to the borders of Kyros. Maximilian was desperately worried about Escator. Although he barely spoke of it, the others could see his concern in the tightness about his eyes and mouth every time the Icarii came back with more news.
They were not to know Maximilian also knew of the birth of Kanubai, and lay awake many nights, going through the Twisted Tower, trying to guess what objects might fill the empty spots, and what they might mean.
"But you will go," StarDrifter said. Since his somewhat reluctant acceptance of the title of Talon, the Icarii scouts had looked to him, rather than Maximilian, for direction. StarDrifter had initially found that difficult--the years spent as a bitter exile at the Corolean court had undermined his prior easy acceptance of his status within Icarii society--but very gradually princely command had returned, and the Icarii's deference felt less strange.
"Yes, we will go," BroadWing said. His mouth crooked. "We will stand out a little too much, I think, for an easy passage in Isembaard. We will go back to Kyros, or perhaps even Pelemere, and wait for you there. Stars alone knows where you will come out of these mountains again, once you have rescued Ishbel."
"BroadWing," Maximilian said, leaning forward slightly, "if there are any troubles--"
"Then we will let you know," BroadWing said. "Somehow."
Maximilian nodded, leaning back. It was the best he could hope for.
Venetia and Serge prepared a meal while everyone sat watching and unspeaking, lost in their thoughts.
The traverse through the mountains had been difficult and wearying for everyone, not just StarDrifter and Salome, but it had not been fraught with too many hardships. The mountains were traversable, it was just that people without benefit of winged companions who could scout ahead for the best and most direct routes, or who could also fetch and carry for them, tended to lose themselves within the ten thousand gullies and valleys between the peaks and starve before they ever managed to find their way out. The FarReach Mountains were a maze of blind gullies and valleys, difficult to move through and impossible to climb out of.
Without the Icarii, Maximilian was sure they would have found the journey almost impossible.
He finished his meal, once again grateful to the Icarii for their help, and studied Salome and StarDrifter.
They looked terrible. Both appeared to have lost weight (although that was difficult to gauge, given their bulky warm clothing), their faces were pale, and smudged under their eyes were deep circles of weariness.
What was wrong with them?
"Salome," Maximilian said, "I want Venetia to have a look at you and StarDrifter. We need to know what's wrong."
"There's nothing wrong," both said together, glanced at each other, then as quickly looked away again.
They had largely traveled as a pair, StarDrifter staying close to Salome and helping her if she needed. At night they bundled down very close. They did not argue, nor express any particular emotion toward the other. In fact, they barely passed a word between them. Maximilian did not know if that was merely a by-product of their exhaustion, or if they had arrived at some silent companionship that was not friendship, but a resigned acknowledgment of their ties.
Personally, Maximilian thought it was likely a combination of both.
"Look, Maxel," StarDrifter said, "I don't think anything is--"
"If Venetia could look at my back, I'd be grateful," Salome put in. "The past few days it has been so sore...perhaps I have pulled a ligament."
"Then a rub may help it," Venetia said, moving over to Salome's side. She tried to aid Salome in removing her jacket, vest, and shirt while preserving the woman's modesty, but, irritable, Salome shrugged off her attempts to cover her chest.
"I doubt anyone here has not seen a pair of breasts before," she snapped, and StarDrifter smiled. If Venetia had seen Salome parading about in her completely transparent finery in Coroleas then she would not have worried about preserving the woman's "modesty."
Salome shot StarDrifter an irritated look, and he managed to suppress the smile.
Venetia ran her hands over Salome's back, frowning. "There's something wrong with your back," she said. "I don't know...Ravenna?"
Her daughter moved over, frowning as well once she saw Salome's back.
"Perhaps it is an infection," Venetia said.
"Venetia?" Maximilian said. "What is it?"
"I don't think it is an infection," Ravenna said quietly. "BroadWing, can you...?"
He came over, and leaned down for a look.
"Stars!" he exclaimed, and almost fell over as he stumbled back a pace. "I cannot believe it!"
"What is it?" Maximilian said.
BroadWing did not answer him. Instead he looked to StarDrifter. "StarDrifter...is your back troubling you?"
"Yes, but it is just weariness, perhaps, and--"
"StarDrifter," said BroadWing, "please have a look at Salome's back."
"Oh, for all the gods' sakes," snapped Salome, as StarDrifter sighed and rose. "Just give it a rub,
Venetia, and let me be. I wish I'd never asked you to look at it."
"Oh, dear gods," StarDrifter whispered, also taking a step back as he saw Salome's back.
"What is--" Maximilian began, then stopped, astounded, as StarDrifter literally ripped his upper clothes off.
He had never seen such a look of sheer desperation on anyone's face before.
The other Icarii had rushed over by now, and the four of them were standing back, looking between Salome and StarDrifter with expressions that ranged from the incredulous to the awestruck.
"BroadWing," StarDrifter said, his voice tight. "Is...is..."
BroadWing was looking at StarDrifter's back, then laid a hand softly on it.
"Yes," he said, and StarDrifter moaned, and sank to his knees, his face in his hands.
"Will someone tell me what is going on!" Maximilian snarled, now also on his feet, and looking between Salome's and StarDrifter's backs.
They did look inflamed, and curiously lumpy, as if something had burrowed under the skin on either side of their spines.
Suddenly Maximilian knew what was happening, and did not need Broad-Wing's quietly spoken confirmation.
"They are regrowing their wings," he said.
"That's impossible," Ravenna said. "I thought you'd both had everything removed...wings...their roots...everything."
"I don't...I can't..." StarDrifter said, looking up at everyone standing about, tears staining his face. "I
can't explain...oh, gods, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
BroadWing was weeping as well, and he squatted down by StarDrifter and hugged the man.
"Wings?" said Salome. "I don't want wings!"
"Nonetheless," said SongFlight, one of BroadWing's companions, "you shall have them soon enough.
See, Maximilian, the wings are forming on either side of their spines, under the skin." Her hand traced down Salome's back, outlining the nascent wings. "They will break through within a few weeks, and grow from there."
"No wonder you both have been so exhausted, and so hungry," said BroadWing. "Your bodies have been putting most of your energy into the development of the wings."
"And Salome's baby?" said StarDrifter, on his feet again. He'd regained some of his composure, and for the first time since he'd met him, Maximilian had a glimpse of the sheer charismatic power of the man.
"Well," said Venetia, "on
ce all the gentlemen here can give us a little privacy, and Salome and I might manage a bit of peace, perhaps I can answer that for you."
"The baby grows well enough," said Salome. "It--"
"He," said StarDrifter.
"--has been moving and wriggling for all he is worth. I doubt he's much fussed about the wings." She paused, looking at StarDrifter as if it was his fault. "I really don't want wings."
StarDrifter laughed, the sound one of pure joy. "Welcome to your full heritage, Salome. Welcome to the wonder of Icarii life."
Maximilian smiled, enjoying StarDrifter's happiness.
Then he glanced over to his spot by the fire. For a moment he'd been sure he'd heard the Weeper laughing softly.
CHAPTER TWO
The Palace of Aqhat, Tyranny of Isembaard
Ishbel sat by one of the open windows in her chamber, enjoying the peace and beauty of the night. A
breeze wafted in, rippling her lawn nightgown and the hair she'd left loose about her shoulders. The warm air was scented with a hint of faraway spices, and the sound of frogs, and of children playing somewhere,
could be heard from the riverbanks.
The river had come to mean so much to her.
From the day after the birth, and murder, of her baby, Isaiah had been taking her down to the river to bathe. For the first three evenings they did this, Ishbel could only sit in the water and weep. Isaiah said nothing, but he would wash her down with gentle hands, and massage her scalp, and soothe her misery.
During the day there was always hustle and bustle, people moving and shouting, soldiers and horses milling as Isaiah pushed forward his invasion, but at dusk, everything would quiet, and Isaiah would come for Ishbel, and walk her down to the Lhyl.
There she bathed, and passed some brief and gentle conversations with Isaiah, and healed. Ishbel decided the waters of the Lhyl must hold some magical properties, because their gentle lapping had healed both her body and spirit from the travail and loss of her daughter.
She no longer wept, and every day she waited for the dusk, when Isaiah would come.
Memories of her previous life, more than ever now the baby was gone, slipped further and further away with each day's ending. She never thought of the Great Serpent or her former life in the Coil. She no longer harbored any ambition to return to Serpent's Nest. Only two weeks had gone by since that terrible night when Ba'al'uz had killed her daughter--and attempted her murder as well--but even that shocking night seemed to be a long-ago dream.
She did think of Maximilian. Not an hour of any day passed that she did not find her mind returning to him. Ishbel did not like this, for thoughts of Maximilian brought such a confusing welter of emotions to the surface that she did not think she could bear it. Prime among these emotions was guilt at the loss of the baby, but there was also a regret that was so sharp it may as well have been a dagger for the degree of pain it caused, and an anger at him for turning such a cold back to her, and an anger at herself for not being honest with him.
She wanted desperately to forget him, and buried herself in Isaiah as a means by which to accomplish this. Isaiah offered her nothing but comfort, and Ishbel needed comfort so badly...
Ishbel sighed, wondering where Isaiah was. Preparations for invasion were almost complete. Tomorrow they would leave for Sakkuth, where Isaiah's main army gathered. Ishbel would go with him. Ishbel was ambivalent about returning to the north at the head of an invading army, but she did not wish to be separated from Isaiah, and she could not bear to be left behind at Aqhat, with that pyramid--she glanced in the direction of DarkGlass Mountain--looming over her.
DarkGlass Mountain now exuded a clear and malevolent threat. It was not only she who could feel it, or Isaiah, but everyone. Servants went about their appointed tasks, abnormally quiet, eyes glancing every now and then in the pyramid's direction.
The days seemed somehow darker, and colder.
There was something so ominous, so malignant, about DarkGlass Mountain, that Ishbel felt as if it snatched her very life from her body every time she glanced at it. She tried not to think about what Isaiah had shown her crawling up from the abyss below, nor about how the pyramid seemed to hate her very personally.
Ishbel wanted to leave this place. All the joy of the land had gone since the death of her child and the growing malevolence throbbing across the Lhyl from DarkGlass Mountain.
There came a soft sound from the corridor outside her chamber, and Ishbel's head tilted slightly in that direction, glad to be distracted from thoughts of the pyramid.
Soft voices. Isaiah, talking with the guards.
Ishbel smiled, pleased. He had come to take her to bathe.
The door opened, and she looked at him. "Isaiah."
Unusually for Isaiah, he was wearing very little jewelry--just some small gold hoops in his ears and a bangle about one wrist, and his great mass of black braids had, like her hair, been left to swing freely about his shoulders and back.
He smiled, just a little, and it struck Ishbel then that Isaiah was a sunshine man, a man of the light,
whereas Maximilian had always been so much of the shadows.
"I had hoped you'd still be awake," Isaiah said. "I'm sorry I am so late. We can still go to bathe, if you like, or..." He sat down on the low couch with her, their bodies touching in a score of small places, and Ishbel knew then that his "or..." held a number of possibilities.
What should she do? Isaiah had always left open the possibility that their "marriage" could be whatever she wanted, and he had never hidden his desire for her.
"It has been dark for hours," she said.
"I'm sorry. Invasions are finicky things to arrange." He reached out a hand, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind one of her ears, and let his fingers linger a moment on her skin, caressing.
Ishbel hesitated, then leaned her head, very slightly, against the pressure of his fingers. Maybe he would be a comfort for her.
"We will be leaving in the morning," he said.
"Yes."
"I know this journey back to your homeland will be difficult for you. It is possibly not the way you'd hoped to return. I'm sorry it must be at the head of an army, at my side."
"I am not so sorry to be going home at your side," she said, very softly. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, if succumbing to Isaiah's seductions would cause more problems than it might solve.
But he was so comforting, and she found herself longing very much for the reassurance of a man's arms about her, and the solidity of his body curled about hers at night.
Perhaps if she went to Isaiah, she would forget Maximilian.
He, surely, had forgotten her.
"Then I am most pleased at that," he said, and cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.
This night, when his hand encircled her breast, she moved in toward him, rather than away.
"Frankly, I thought Isaiah would have put you in complete command of all his forces by now," Ezekiel said, draining his wine cup. "It is a wonder I have a job left at all."
Axis laughed, and refilled both their wine cups. They were in Ezekiel's quarters, and had been for the past hour, sinking ever more deeply into a slight inebriation. Although Axis had spent time with Ezekiel and several other of the generals previously, this was the first time he'd spent such a companionable evening with him.
Companionable, but they were both still wearing their swords.
"Isaiah offered me a command," Axis said. "I refused."
"Really? Why?"
"You thought it might be a stepping-stone for me to greater things? A generalship, perhaps?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"And the minds of Morfah and Kezial and Lamiah and Armat, too, no doubt."
"Indeed. Why did you refuse the command?"
"It was tempting, Ezekiel, I won't deny that, but I did not want to lead men against the kingdoms to the north."
"A conscience, then."
Axis smiled. "And th
at's not a good thing for a general, eh?"
Ezekiel tipped his head in a vague response. "And so you will be moving north with us?"
"Yes. I may not wish to command, Ezekiel, but I do not want to be left behind."
"Then watch your back, Axis. Lamiah and Armat particularly resent you. And fear you, which is even more dangerous. You are too close to Isaiah, and they worry about your connection to the Icarii assassin."
Axis wasn't quite sure where to start with that little speech--there was so much to think about, and address, within it. "You don't resent me, Ezekiel?"
"A little, but not fatally."
Axis laughed in genuine amusement, and decided he both liked and trusted this man. "I was not responsible for that assassin. I am not even convinced he was Icarii. There was something about him..."
Ezekiel arched an eyebrow.
"Ah, I don't know," said Axis. "I can't put a finger to it. Just a...strangeness. Ezekiel, will you tell me something?"
Ezekiel retreated only a little into wariness. "Perhaps."
"I have been here a year now, and I have yet to hear of the debacle of the Eastern Independencies. What happened, Ezekiel? I know enough of Isaiah to know he is a more than competent commander.
Considering the forces he has to command and what I have heard are the inadequacies of the Eastern Independencies..."
"The campaign to take the Eastern Independencies," said Ezekiel, "was Isaiah's first major campaign. It should have been a walkover."
"But..."
"All went well. Isaiah led a vast army toward the Independencies. There were a few skirmishes. Then, on the night before what would have been a--and probably the only--major battle with the deeply inadequate forces of the Eastern Independencies, Isaiah disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
Ezekiel gave a small shrug. "Was taken. Kidnapped, if you like. It was a massive embarrassment for his security guard. He was in his command tent, late at night. Alone. The tent was ringed with armed men, all awake and alert. The men later said they'd heard the sound of a scuffle inside the tent, and as some tightened the ring about the perimeter of Isaiah's tent, others rushed inside.
