Sinner

by Sara Douglass

  “She was SunSoar,” StarDrifter said. “She could have loved only SunSoar or been sated by a SunSoar.” He shrugged slightly. “It is the nature of our blood.”

  Zenith raised her eyes from the mosaic floor and studied her grandfather. “Did you ever lie with her, grandfather?”

  The directness of the question discomforted StarDrifter. “For many years I thought I loved Azhure. I did not know why then, because it took us years to discover that she, too, was SunSoar. But I lusted after her, I adored her, I plotted to snatch her from Axis.

  “Of course, I did not succeed, and when Caelum was born I realised that I never would. So I swore to myself over Caelum’s birth-bed that I would take Azhure’s first daughter for myself.”

  He paused, remembering. “When RiverStar was thirteen, she came to my chamber one night, flaunting her naked body and, even at that age, her experience. I was repelled. I could hardly believe that reaction in myself, for RiverStar is – was – almost sexually irresistible, but I was repelled nonetheless.”

  “Well,” said Faraday. “RiverStar had found a new lover. And SunSoar…perhaps. Who? FreeFall? Axis?”

  “No!” StarDrifter cried. “First blood is forbidden!”

  “I doubt that would have stopped RiverStar getting what she wanted,” Zenith murmured.

  Faraday ignored her. “Caelum? WolfStar? And what about Isfrael?” No! she thought, stricken, not my son!

  “Drago himself?” StarDrifter said, trying to distract her.

  Now it was Zenith who was horrified. “Not Drago! I would almost be willing to believe she’d bedded our father before I’d accept the idea of Drago.”

  “You like him very much, don’t you,” Faraday observed softly. “Why?”

  Zenith spoke without thinking. “Because I trust him. He was nothing but kind to me, and in moments when he thought not to be observed, he was kind to others. I cannot explain it, but on some fundamental plane of my being I do trust him.”

  “And yet,” StarDrifter said carefully, “as a child he showed himself to be completely untrustworthy.”

  “What he did as an infant was reprehensible,” Zenith said. “No-one can condone his alliance with Gorgrael. For that he was punished, and dreadfully, considering that no lasting harm was done to Caelum, nor even to our parents or Tencendor by his actions. To have his Icarii blood disallowed…”

  She halted, trembling. Magic and enchantment was so much a part of her Icarii heritage, as it was StarDrifter’s, that neither found it possible to contemplate a life without it. And yet, wasn’t it due to Drago’s actions that she was being forced to contemplate such a life?

  “But what was abhorrent in Drago’s subsequent life,” Zenith finally went on, “was that neither Axis nor Azhure took the chance to rebuild or reform his soul. He was further punished every day of his life for his infant crime. He was never loved, never hugged, always reminded that he was the most vile of creatures – and yet he could not even remember what he had done to deserve such treatment! Drago was constantly reminded that he was vile and untrustworthy – yet he could not know why.”

  StarDrifter stared at her. He’d never thought of that. Neither, he wagered, had Axis or Azhure.

  “If he has continued to be surly, even bitter,” Zenith said softly, looking at her grandfather, “then it is because he has never been allowed to be anything else. Who knows who or what the real Drago is? Or what he was capable of becoming? Our parents slammed him into a mould and kept him there. Eventually he conformed to that mould. Our parents never gave Drago the love and affection that would have redeemed him.”

  “Everyone was too ready to accuse him of RiverStar’s murder,” Faraday said.

  “Because not to accuse Drago,” StarDrifter said, his face paling with horror at what he was about to say, “would be to suspect another SunSoar male.”

  “Who?” asked Faraday. “Who?”

  “Of our entire family,” Zenith said softly, “StarDrifter was the only one not present in Sigholt when RiverStar died.”

  “Niah?”

  The voice broke the quiet between them.

  “Axis!” StarDrifter leapt to his feet. Would his son never leave him to finish a conversation in peace? Axis was walking down the few steps from the top of the Assembly Chamber to meet them. His face was mildly puzzled.

  “Niah?”

  His daughter rose smoothly to her feet and faced him. “I am Zenith.”

  He stared at her. “What happened?”

  “Niah lost her battle with life,” she said very quietly, holding his stare. “I lived.”

  “But you are –”

  “No!” Zenith abruptly shouted. “I am not Niah! I am your daughter!”

  “Then where is Niah?”

  StarDrifter could not believe he was hearing this conversation. “Niah has returned to the grave, Axis. Loved and remembered – but dead.”

  Axis did not move his eyes from Zenith’s face. “Your mother thought that –”

  “She was wrong.”

  “She believed that –”

  “She should have believed in me more.”

  Axis was quiet. Then, “I heard some of your conversation before I made my presence known. Zenith – you helped Drago escape?”

  “Someone had to help him.”

  “Do you know what you have done? Drago now leads the –”

  “I knew that someone should have helped Drago, Father! That someone should have been you or Mother, many years ago. If there was a murder committed in Sigholt, then it was not only RiverStar’s!”

  A muscle twitched in Axis’ cheek. He stared at Zenith a heartbeat longer, then switched his gaze to StarDrifter’s face.

  “In order to cope with Drago’s treachery, StarDrifter, I must enlist your aid.”

  “You know you have it. What can I do?”

  “By assisting to ward closed the Star Gate – if we can do it. If. The Circle of the Star Gods will not be enough. We need the most powerful Enchanters, as well as Isfrael and the Banes of the Avar peoples, to help construct our defence. StarDrifter,” his voice became gentler, “I need you. Now. At the Star Gate. We have to move fast.”

  “You have me.”

  “Who else do you have here on the Mount to help?”

  StarDrifter named some ten or eleven Enchanters, and Axis nodded.

  “Then let us not linger, StarDrifter. The Demons quest closer.”

  Zenith and Faraday stood side by side watching as Axis and StarDrifter hurried away.

  “He did not ask me to help,” Zenith said quietly.

  “True,” Faraday said, then she grinned. “But do not fret, Zenith. I have something just as helpful and, methinks, much more fun for us to do.”

  She laughed at the expression on Zenith’s face. “Come now, Zenith. Did you think that I would let us linger here while the saving of Tencendor awaited?”

  60

  Old Friends

  Faraday? What do you mean?”

  Faraday stood up, then grabbed Zenith’s hand and hauled her to her feet. “Imagine the scene at the Star Gate, Zenith. Hundreds of Enchanters and Banes. All wasting what little power they have left to ward the Star Gate. Or fighting whatever it is that comes through. Do you think they will spare a moment’s thought for Drago?”

  “And,” Zenith said softly, thinking it through, “what if RiverStar’s real murderer stands there? Waiting for Drago?”

  “I would not place a large wager on Drago’s life then, my sweet. Besides, from what I have heard, Axis and Caelum would be glad enough to see him dead and put aside for good. Do you trust anyone there?”

  “I would trust StarDrifter.”

  Faraday slowed as they walked down the steps into the centre of the Assembly. “Yes. Yes, so do I. But StarDrifter alone will be of no help – especially not if all Icarii Enchanters lose touch with the Star Dance. Zenith, can you feel the fading of the Dance?”

  She nodded. “I feel it like a wound. It…it lessens me.”

&
nbsp; They reached the mosaic circle of the Assembly and walked arm in arm towards one of the exits. “Faraday, how are we going to reach the Ancient Barrows? My father might be able to spirit StarDrifter and the other Enchanters there, but I don’t have the strength –”

  “Hush,” Faraday said. “I have some old friends we can rely on.” She grinned. “If they still remember me.”

  By the time the women had reached the dormitory, Axis, StarDrifter and the other Enchanters had gone.

  “He wasted no time,” Faraday murmured. “And neither shall we. Zenith, fetch yourself a cloak, beg us a small bag of food from the kitchens, and we will be on our way. Meet me at the top of the steps in an hour.”

  Then she kissed Zenith’s cheek and was gone.

  Zenith collected a thick green cloak from her chamber, sliding a feather and hair comb into its pocket, then begged a basket of food from the thin-faced cook in the kitchens. The man, despite his morose face, had a kind heart that did not require too many explanations, and he filled a large basket with enough food to see the women through several days.

  “I thank you,” Zenith said as he handed the basket over, and then she was gone.

  Faraday was waiting for her. “Are you sad to be leaving here, Zenith?”

  Zenith looked over her shoulder at the temple complex and the great beam of cobalt light that speared into the sky from the Temple itself. There were streaks of grey through it.

  “No, I am not. I do not think I ever wish to come back here. This place reeks of Niah.”

  Faraday nodded, then led the way silently down the steps.

  From the base of the steps it was a day and a half’s walk to reach Pirates’ Town on the island’s northern harbour. They walked briskly, but not at a pace that would overly tire them, resting every two hours and taking turns to carry the basket. Faraday brought nothing with her save a magnificent ruby cloak that Zenith thought she had seen before. But when she asked Faraday, the woman only smiled and changed the subject.

  They rested the night under the eaves of the thick jungle that covered most of the island. It was warm, and the women’s cloaks were useful more as mats than blankets. They spoke late into the night, Zenith hesitatingly asking Faraday about her life as the daughter of Earl Isend, then as Borneheld’s wife. She was not sure if Faraday would want to talk about it, but she did not seem to mind, and for the first time in her life Zenith heard the story of the Time of the Prophecy of the Destroyer from a perspective other than her parents’.

  “You must have loved my father very much,” Zenith remarked softly as Faraday finished.

  Faraday thought about that a long time – so long Zenith had assumed she wanted to escape the question by pretending sleep.

  “I was young, impressionable,” she finally said, “and Axis was everything a young and impressionable girl dreamed of.” She gave a low laugh. “Every young girl in Achar was more than half in love with him, I think. And then I was caught up in the Prophecy, so much rested on my role, that I was consumed by joy that it should have been me whom the Prophecy had picked. But,” her voice turned sourer, “I did not know then what a dreadful price I would have to pay. That the Prophecy required my death to fulfil its purpose.”

  “You died so that my mother could live,” Zenith said.

  “Yes. But I am not bitter about that. Azhure, as Axis, as everyone including Gorgrael, was as much a victim of the Prophecy’s manipulations as I.”

  “But you were transformed into the doe. I saw you occasionally when I was a child and Azhure brought Caelum, Isfrael and myself into Minstrelsea.”

  Faraday reached out and touched Zenith’s cheek. “And I saw you, too, Zenith. I envied you your freedom – of course I did not know about Niah’s legacy then.”

  “My freedom? But I thought you the most carefree of creatures –”

  Faraday laughed harshly. “I was trapped by the forest, trapped by my timidity, trapped by my form. Drago,” her voice altered, “Drago freed me with the Sceptre as much as your father trapped me with it. With his careless wielding he cast off all the chains of Prophecy and fate that had bound me. Free. I was finally free.”

  There was quiet between them a long time, then Faraday quietly said goodnight, and rolled over and went to sleep.

  Zenith stayed awake a good deal longer.

  By noon the next day they had reached Pirates’ Town. It was a thriving port town, populated by brightly scarved, gleaming-knived pirates who plied the southern seas seeking rich merchants and Corolean bullion ships. Beside them strode their hard-eyed wives, and thousands of thin-flanked dogs and scrawny chickens.

  “Has no-one ever thought to put a stop to the pirates?” Faraday whispered, her cloak clutched tight about her as they wandered down the main thoroughfare. For a thousand years the pirates had served to guard the secrets of the Island of Mist and Memory, but she thought that now Tencendor had been freed from the grip of the Seneschal life would have been more tightly regulated on the island.

  “I mean,” she added, “they don’t still…pirate…do they?”

  Zenith laughed. “I’m afraid they do, Faraday. Neither Axis nor Caelum has been willing to try and restrain them, beyond insisting they keep their ships away from Tencendorian waters. Besides, the pirates prefer the rich pickings off the Corolean shores. Still,” she nodded a greeting to a pirate wife wringing the neck of a chicken on her front doorstep, “I know Caelum has had to deal with more than one complaint from the Corolean ambassador about them.”

  Faraday went a little green at the sound of the chicken’s neck cracking. “You like it here?”

  “I spent many weeks of each year on the island when I was a girl. StarDrifter often sent me down here for a few days. Once – although don’t tell StarDrifter this – I even went out on a pirate ship for two days.”

  Faraday stared at her with round eyes. “I did not think you such the adventurer, Zenith.”

  Zenith shrugged. “Oh, I grew out of it.”

  “I wonder.” Faraday grinned. “Oh look, here is the wharf.”

  Zenith looked about. “There’s a ship over there swinging supplies aboard. If they’re going to Nor they may well take passengers. Did you bring any coin with you? I forgot in our rush to leave.”

  “No coin required,” Faraday said quietly, and pointed to the very end of the main pier. “Not for this ferry trip.”

  There bobbed the small flat-bottomed ferry that Faraday had provided for Zenith in the shadow-lands.

  Zenith suddenly remembered where she’d seen the ruby cloak before. “The cloak, the ferry, these are Orr’s!”

  Faraday nodded. “He has no need for them now. Come. The ferry shall carry us smooth and calm to Nor.”

  And so it did. Faraday sat in the prow, the hood of the cloak cast back, her chestnut hair streaming out behind her, her face calm and beautiful as she looked into the distance. To each side of them the Sea of Tyrre raised fat waves that swelled the height of two men above the ferry.

  And yet that ferry sailed smooth and calm through the heavy seas as if it glided across the still surface of an ornamental pond.

  Zenith sat further to the rear of the ferry, her eyes shifting from Faraday, to the waves, then back to Faraday again. She knew the woman wielded power, but she did not know of what kind it was. Zenith knew of the power of the trees and the earth, and she could sense it whenever Banes wielded it in her presence – but this was so different. Faraday used a source of power that Zenith had never experienced before.

  Faraday turned her head slightly so she could see Zenith from the corner of her eye. “It is simply different, Zenith. It is the only way I can put it.”

  “And you feel no diminishing as the Star Gate clouds over?”

  Faraday shook her head. “This is not related to the stars, nor even to the trees or the earth.”

  She lifted her shoulders in a wonderfully evocative shrug, smiled, and turned back to the seas before them.

  The ferry glided on.

&nbs
p; Within two hours of setting out from Pirates’ Town, the ferry sailed into the port of Ysbadd. A normal vessel would have taken a day at least to sail the distance. Zenith just accepted it.

  Faraday stepped calmly off the ferry, climbed the ladder on the side of the wharf, and waited for Zenith to join her. Zenith looked back at the ferry, bobbing gently against the wharf, then looked up to see Faraday already halfway down the wharf. Sighing, she hurried after her.

  “How are we going to get to –” she started, but Faraday waved a hand lightly.

  “We go to the market, of course, and we shall find what we need there.”

  Zenith rolled her eyes and gave up asking. No doubt Faraday would discover a ferry on wheels that could glide them to the Ancient Barrows.

  Not quite a ferry on wheels, but something equally astounding, and something Zenith recognised immediately from all the tales she’d heard about Faraday.

  Faraday had led her into the bustling, hot, heavy-aired market square in the centre of Ysbadd, and then stood looking, a small frown on her face.

  “Ah,” she finally said. “There. The livestock section.”

  Faraday walked over to a far corner of the square where stood lines of oxen, horses and three short-haired dromedaries from Coroleas. She walked slowly, looking down the lines, her frown deepening, a mystified Zenith at her shoulder.

  “Ah!” she cried as she saw the vendor. “Good man, I am looking for something I have lost. Would you perchance…?”

  The man, barrel-chested and red of face, stared at her, then his face cleared and he smiled and bowed. “My Lady. Yes. I wondered when you would claim them. They have been eating me out of my best oats.”

  And he waved a hand to the overhang of a canvas awning.

  Underneath it, harnessed lightly to a dainty blue cart, stood two white donkeys.

  As they caught sight of Faraday they twitched their ears, and one gave a low bray of welcome.

  “Oh!” Faraday cried and, hurrying over, hugged and patted both the donkeys.