The Serpent Bride

by Sara Douglass

  As Lixel sat down at the table, sliding the contract toward Maximilian, he rather hoped that Maximilian had been so smitten by Ishbel at first sight that the king would grant Lixel immediate permission to return to Escator.

  “I believe you have hashed out the contract with StarWeb, Ishbel?” Maximilian said.

  “Yes,” said Ishbel, and Lixel was not surprised to see a hardening of her expression and a tightening of her shoulders at the mention of StarWeb.

  Maximilian nodded, running his eye over the document. “Are you prepared to sign?” He looked up at Ishbel then, and something passed between them that Lixel could not identify.

  “If you are agreeable,” she said softly.

  “I am agreeable, Ishbel,” Maximilian said. “Shall we make a marriage, then?”

  There was a long pause, then Ishbel dipped her head. “Yes.”

  Lixel’s mouth dropped open. Never had he witnessed such an unemotional, almost clinical assenting to a marriage. Why not spend time together, getting to know each other? Wasn’t that what this entire exercise of meeting in Pelemere had been about?

  “Lixel,” said Maximilian, “can you fetch Garth and Egalion in to witness?”

  Lixel closed his mouth, nodded, and did as he was told.

  Garth had not answered Egalion’s question truthfully. He couldn’t. Not before he’d spoken to Maximilian. He’d fudged an answer, and was grasping about for something to say to distract Egalion when the door to the secondary chamber opened, Lixel appeared, and requested Garth and Egalion enter.

  Garth could not believe what was happening. Maximilian was about to sign the contract within a few minutes of meeting the woman for the first time. What in the name of all gods was he doing?

  Maximilian was running through the clauses, checking them, as Garth and Egalion entered.

  “This one…” he said, tapping the document and looking between Ishbel and Lixel. “How did this come to be here?”

  “StarWeb insisted on it,” said Ishbel, her tone strained. “She said you would not ratify the marriage, declare it valid, until I was…um…” She glanced up at Garth and Egalion, clearly embarrassed.

  As she has every reason to be, thought Garth, getting angrier by the moment.

  “Until you were pregnant and in Ruen,” said Maximilian. “Well, I think we can dispense with that, yes?” and with a single stroke of the pen he drew a thick black line through the clause. “Now, Ishbel, if you would sign here, if you please—”

  “No!” Garth broke in. “No. Maxel, I beg you, a moment of your time, please.”

  Maximilian looked at him. “Explain yourself, Garth.”

  “Maxel,” Garth said, “a moment of your time, I beg you. If you care or trust me at all, then grant me this moment. Please.”

  Maximilian looked at Ishbel. “I apologize most sincerely for this unwelcome intrusion,” he said, then rose, walked over to Garth, took his elbow in an ungentle hand, and ushered him out of the room.

  “Garth!” Maximilian said. “What was the meaning of that?”

  “Maxel, Ishbel is pregnant.”

  Maximilian went utterly still. “What?”

  “Not much, perhaps a week…she has only just conceived. But she is pregnant. You know I can feel this.”

  Maximilian nodded. Garth had the Touch; determining an early pregnancy was but a trivial task for him. “And so,” he said, “your point is…”

  Garth was growing more astounded by the moment. Maximilian’s anger had faded and he was now regarding Garth with an amused air.

  “The Lady Ishbel is not as virtuous as you had hoped, Maxel,” Garth said, wondering if he needed to put this into one-syllable words for Maximilian to comprehend. “Dear gods, my friend, you would take a woman to wife when she’s carrying someone else’s bastard?”

  Maximilian grinned, the expression so surprising that Garth felt his mouth drop open. “It’s my child, Garth.”

  Garth was now so shocked he could not speak.

  “Where did you think I went,” Maximilian said, “when I rode ahead of the main retinue and left you and Egalion to your own company for well over a week?”

  Garth gazed at him, struggling to come to terms with what Maximilian had done. “You said…the forest…”

  “Yes, yes,” Maximilian said, waving a hand dismissively. Then he smiled, and actually winked. “Changed my mind. Thought I’d see if I couldn’t make Ishbel’s acquaintance under less strained circumstances than a formal meeting.”

  “Well, you surely made it very well,” Garth muttered.

  Maximilian laughed and clapped Garth on the shoulder. “She is well with the child?”

  “Yes. Yes, she is well. There is no problem that I could feel.”

  “Good. Then perhaps you can come back in and apologize to my future wife for your behavior.”

  Garth wasn’t going to allow Maximilian to get away with this entirely. “And perhaps, later, when your future wife is safely out of hearing range, you can apologize to Egalion and myself for your deception.”

  “A bargain,” said Maximilian, and led the way back into the room.

  Ishbel was growing more certain that her entire time as Maximilian’s wife would be spent in this terrible state of feeling completely overwhelmed. Maximilian had arrived, greeted her, swept her inside, asked for the marriage contract, scratched out the clause StarWeb had fought so hard for, and all within a relatively few short minutes. Ishbel doubted that enough time had yet elapsed from his arrival for his entire entourage to have completely dismounted.

  Adding to this sense of feeling completely overwhelmed by Maximilian was a stab of hurt that Garth Baxtor had so obviously taken an immediate and deep dislike to her. Ishbel had liked Garth—he had such an open, friendly attractive face which invited instant trust—but then he’d taken her hand and within a heartbeat his face had closed over and he had turned his back to her.

  And now he’d demanded that Maximilian talk with him privately.

  What had Garth discovered? Ishbel’s heart was beating fast, pounding in her chest, and her hands were damp where she clutched them in her lap. Garth had felt something when he’d touched her…Great Serpent, please let it be that he hadn’t felt—

  Maximilian and Garth reentered the room, and Ishbel jumped slightly in sheer nervousness.

  Maximilian looked at her with amusement—and something else that she couldn’t quite fathom—although at least the amusement reassured Ishbel somewhat, but Garth’s change in attitude was nothing short of extraordinary.

  “My Lady Ishbel,” he said, dropping to one knee beside her chair, his face alive once more with friendliness, “I must beg your pardon for my behavior earlier. Sometimes I can be a clump-headed fool, and too often I underestimate Maxel’s courage and daring. Will you forgive my former behavior? I promise herewith that in future I shall ask before judging.”

  Ishbel had no idea at all what was going on about her. She glanced again at Maximilian, more for reassurance than anything else, then, at his slight nod, gave Garth a small and somewhat uncertain smile.

  “Of course,” she said.

  Garth’s smiled broadened slightly, then he rose. “I beg everyone’s forgiveness for my rudeness.” He winked at Egalion, who was looking as confused as Ishbel felt, then stepped back a little from the table.

  “‘Maxel’?” Ishbel said to Maximilian, more to fill in the silence than out of any real curiosity.

  “Maximilian is such a mouthful,” he said. “Those closest to me always call me Maxel, and I hope you will, too.”

  Ishbel gave another uncertain smile, unable to stop herself imagining StarWeb calling out the name in the grip of passion, then cursing herself yet again for being weak enough to allow StarWeb to rattle her. By the Great Serpent, Ishbel thought, what has happened to me? I am a stronger person than this.

  “Now.” Maximilian sat down and spun the marriage contract toward him. He picked up a pen. “All we need decide on is a date for the marriage. I don’
t think we need wait, Ishbel. Shall the day after tomorrow be suitable?”

  “I do not see the need to rush,” Ishbel said. “I had thought this period in Pelemere was to be spent getting to know each other. I—”

  “Ishbel,” Maximilian said quietly.

  Ishbel made the mistake of looking at him, and seeing the expression in his eyes. Seeing the memory in his eyes. Why do I bother with this? she wondered. The Great Serpent wants me to marry him, after all.

  “The day after tomorrow,” she agreed, and Maximilian smiled, then signed the document. He pushed the contract and pen over to Ishbel and, after the barest of hesitations, she signed as well, wishing she had the courage to list her true titles under her name.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Pelemere, Central Kingdoms

  Ishbel’s status changed the instant she signed the marriage contract. Suddenly no longer the Lady Ishbel Brunelle, orphan of the Outlands and potential wife to King Maximilian of Escator, now she was the affianced wife of Escator, due all the respect and honor that position commanded.

  As soon as Ishbel laid down the pen, Maximilian was standing, requesting Egalion to send a member of the Emerald Guard back to Sirus’ palace and inform him of the upcoming marriage. King Sirus, who had happily ignored Ishbel to this point, would now allocate Ishbel quarters within the palace for her use over the next two days, and would prepare to regally welcome her as if she were only newly arrived into Pelemere.

  “You don’t have much to pack, do you?” Maximilian asked Ishbel. “Perhaps we can depart for the palace before noon and have you settle in.”

  “I can be ready soon,” said Ishbel, turning for the door.

  “Ishbel.”

  She turned back, looking at Maximilian.

  “Sirus has no idea of your association with the Coil,” he said. “No one outside this room does. I would prefer it stay that way. You are the Lady Ishbel Brunelle of Margalit. Not Ishbel of the Coil. Your association with them ends as of this moment.”

  Garth Baxtor, watching, saw Ishbel’s face mottle with emotion, and he had his first intimation of how much loyalty she owed the Coil. He sympathized with that—they had, after all, taken her in when no one else would—but he also thought she must surely understand Maximilian’s request. A Queen of Escator—a queen of anywhere—simply could not have any ties at all with something as controversial and abhorrent as the Coil.

  “You know how much I owe the—” Ishbel began.

  “I know it,” said Maximilian, “but you must also know full well how reviled the Coil are beyond its front gates. For good reason. You are now my affianced wife, and soon to be queen. Your association with the Coil ends here and now.”

  Garth looked between them, intrigued by this clash of wills.

  Ishbel was by now very pale, and holding herself absolutely rigid. Garth thought she was very close to losing her composure completely. He wondered if this was why Maximilian had chosen this very public time to have this conversation with Ishbel—she would likely be more circumspect in public than she would in private.

  “Turn your eyes forward, Ishbel,” Maximilian said very quietly, holding her furious gaze. “Look forward now to your new life. Forget the Coil. You’ll never go back.”

  At that moment Garth saw something flare deep in Ishbel’s eyes. She struggled with herself, managed to control her temper with a supreme effort, gave a jerk of her head, and left the room.

  There was a silence, broken eventually by Baron Lixel huffing in embarrassment and gathering up the papers. “I’ll, um, get these in order then,” he said, and hurried from the room.

  Maximilian looked over to Garth.

  “Are you sure you want to marry this woman, Maxel?” Garth asked gently.

  “I need a wife,” Maximilian said, “and Escator needs wealth. I want children and she is pregnant. She will do.”

  Then he, too, left the room, leaving Garth staring after him.

  Ishbel sat on her bed in her chamber, clothes scattered about her, trembling in absolute fury. She had never been so angry and so humiliated in all her life.

  Who was he to tell her to forget the Coil?

  She couldn’t stop shaking, and she hated that. She beat her fists slowly on the bed, despising herself for capitulating to him.

  Again.

  What Ishbel hated most, though, was that she understood why Maximilian had said what he had. She was going to have to come to terms with the outside world’s revulsion of the way of the Coil.

  Slowly she managed to relax. She would never mention the Coil to Maximilian again. She would not defend it, nor allude to it. She would, to all intents and purposes, turn her eyes forward as he had commanded.

  “But I will not turn my back on you, Great One,” Ishbel whispered, and made the sign of the Coil over her belly with her right fist.

  What Maximilian did not understand was that the Coil lay as much in her future as it did in her past.

  She was the Coil.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Margalit, the Outlands

  Ba’al’uz had been traveling north for many weeks. It had been tiresome, difficult, and very often dangerous, but he had enjoyed every moment of it. He’d never traveled beyond the borders of the Tyranny previously, and he found the exposure to different cultures and peoples exhilarating and rewarding.

  He despised everyone he met, of course, but that only added to the serenity of his own world and to his belief that there were very few people in the world worth truly caring about. Late one night, lying wrapped in his blanket in the extreme northern reaches of the Salamaan Pass, watching crisp stars weaving their majesty through the sky, Ba’al’uz had a moment of absolute revelation: the lives of men and women were worthless. There was only himself, and Kanubai waiting inside DarkGlass Mountain, and the future that mattered.

  Kanubai continued to whisper in his mind throughout the journey. He also whispered in the minds of the eight men Ba’al’uz traveled with, although never as clearly as in Ba’al’uz’ mind.

  The Eight were receptive. Ba’al’uz had, after all, chosen well in his companions. To augment Kanubai’s whisperings, Ba’al’uz related to the men the powers and riches that could be theirs if they allied themselves with the powerful Kanubai.

  Better allied with him, Ba’al’uz argued, than set against him.

  The Eight agreed. Their lives were as nothing under Isaiah. Kanubai clearly promised better.

  Ba’al’uz said to the Eight that an army would be theirs for the taking if they pledged Kanubai their loyalty, and with that army they would control the world.

  “Kanubai,” said Ba’al’uz, “wishes me to be his general and you his captains.”

  The Eight looked at him long and hard at that, but they agreed.

  Better to be allied with He Who Approached, and his captains, than die as his enemy.

  “There is nothing in this world but Kanubai,” said Ba’al’uz one night, and the Eight nodded in complete agreeance.

  “Everything,” said Ba’al’uz, “must be subsumed to him.”

  “Everything,” murmured the Eight.

  “Including us,” said Ba’al’uz.

  There was a small hesitation. “Including us,” the Eight eventually muttered.

  “Although we, naturally, shall enjoy great rewards and privileges for our work on his behalf.”

  “Naturally,” the Eight agreed, no hesitation this time.

  “He needs to feed,” said Ba’al’uz.

  “Yes,” said the Eight.

  “It has been a very long time since he has fed.”

  “Of course.”

  “If we show Kanubai our devotion in this small matter,” said Ba’al’uz, “then I am certain he shall be grateful.”

  Subsequently, on their passage northward through Adab and then through the Outlands toward Margalit, Ba’al’uz and the Eight, periodically, and very, very carefully and quietly, embarked on a campaign of murder. Not very much; just a life here and there and none who
would be missed too greatly. These lives they offered to Kanubai, and to DarkGlass Mountain itself. Whenever possible, Ba’al’uz and the Eight gathered about the dying victim, watching the light fade from his or her eyes, sensing that far, far away, Kanubai grew stronger for the food.

  Besides, the odd murder here and there was good practice for what lay ahead.

  At night, Kanubai whispered ever more clearly in Ba’al’uz’ mind, and told him of an object he wanted.

  Very badly.

  The object, as strange as it seemed, was sure to cast Isaiah down into the bleakness of the abyss that Kanubai would shortly vacate. Delighted by the prospect, Ba’al’uz agreed to fetch the object once his business in the north was concluded.

  Whatever loyalty he’d once owed Isaiah (not much, in any case) was now long gone.

  Ba’al’uz was Kanubai’s, through and through.

  After many weeks of travel Ba’al’uz and the Eight arrived at Margalit. Here, once they were fed and settled and bathed and had enjoyed a few good nights of sleep in comfortable beds, they would embark on the initial stages of creating the chaos needed to pave the way for Isaiah’s and Lister’s invasion. The only reason they continued to act as Isaiah and Lister expected them to was because their purpose suited Kanubai as much as it suited Isaiah and Lister. It was for Kanubai’s sake that Ba’al’uz and his Eight continued on with the plan.

  But first, definitely, a bit of rest and recreation. A murder would have been vastly enjoyable, but Ba’al’uz was circumspect within Margalit. There was just one man they wanted to murder here, and that not for a few days; no point risking discovery for the sake of a moment or two of extra enjoyment. So, instead of hunting out a victim, the group took themselves off to a local tavern, where Ba’al’uz expected to derive abundant pleasure from a goodly intake of alcohol, and perhaps as much again from observing the Outlanders at recreation, which Ba’al’uz felt sure would further bolster his own sense of superiority.