The Serpent Bride

by Sara Douglass

  “You,” she said, pointing, “and you.”

  The crowd gasped, the emperor mottled (thinking, correctly, that this was a gibe at him), and StarDrifter’s jaw dropped open in a mixture of surprise and disgust: Salome had selected two of the most massively obese men he’d ever seen. The fact that she was going to have to sleep with one of these creatures at the end of the day appalled him, as did the idea that they would undoubtedly humiliate themselves during the process of the game.

  He wondered again, briefly, at whether or not she had Icarii blood within her. If she did, then she’d managed to get only the worst of the Icarii heritage. StarDrifter could not imagine any Icarii ever acting like this.

  What? whispered an unwelcome voice deep in his mind. Not WolfStar? Not StarLaughter? Not some of the worst blood imaginable—and so much of it SunSoar?

  As the disappointed suitors melted back into the crowd, the two winners divested themselves of their clothing, leaving themselves naked. Great folds and rolls of flesh covered their arms and legs, their buttocks were doughy and pockmarked, and their bellies dewlapped down almost to mid-thigh, hiding their genitals.

  Before them, Salome snapped her fingers, and a servant came forth bearing a large tray covered with a silver dome.

  The weapons tray.

  For a long, taunting moment Salome held everyone in suspense, then she oh-so-slowly lifted the dome and held up the two weapons.

  Two lengths of silken cord.

  StarDrifter frowned. That was almost too obvious, and too easy. Two lengths of cord—the victor would be the one who strangled the other first.

  But just as the two men reached for the cords, Salome smiled, shaking a finger at them.

  She picked up one of the cords and, moving to one of the combatants, tied his wrists loosely behind his back.

  Then she tied the hands of the other behind his back.

  “Use your teeth,” she said. “Gnaw each other for my pleasure.”

  The men went pale, but StarDrifter had no doubt they would do it. There was no other possible outcome save that one of these two men would, somehow, manage to murder the other with his teeth to then take Salome, and the slave’s soul of his choice embedded in a bronze figurine, in victory.

  And everyone here would stay to watch, drinking themselves into a stupor in the process.

  Sickened, StarDrifter put down his glass, turned, gave the slaves one last wretched glance of sympathy, and left the colonnade.

  Deep in the shadows of the aisles, Ba’al’uz saw him leave, then followed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  FarReach Mountains, and the Northern Reaches of the Ashdod Dependency

  Ishbel existed in a fog of exhaustion, fear, and a drugged stupor that left her almost continually nauseated and headachy as her body fought to repel the drugs. She knew only that her kidnappers had dragged her south—the weather was warming considerably with every day’s travel—and that they treated her with a level of contempt that terrified her. They mishandled her, not caring if they caused bruises, although they were careful not to hurt her excessively. Occasionally they remembered to offer her food and water. The food Ishbel did not care for, but whatever fluid they gave her she drank down greedily. She could not get enough to drink, and in times of better than usual clarity she knew it was an effect of the drugs they were giving her.

  She had not washed in weeks, and her body and clothes stank of travel grime and sweat. She could not get privacy to attend to even her most basic bodily functions, and generally had to relieve herself under the unwaveringly contemptuous regard of the captors. During the day, when they traveled, she was either forced to stumble along shackled to one of her captors, or, when too exhausted or drugged, to lie on the bare boards of the tray of a small wooden cart pulled by an ill-tempered donkey.

  Everything hurt: her muscles, her head (which pounded almost unceasingly), her belly. Ishbel did not know if that was the Coil unwinding within her, or the baby shrinking and dying from lack of nourishment, for she had not felt any movement, and she was sure Garth had said to expect some by this stage. She was now five months pregnant, but her belly had hardly swelled at all, another reason Ishbel thought the baby might have died.

  Ishbel did not want her baby to have died. This was not for her sake, but for Maximilian’s. She knew how much he wanted a child, knew how much this baby meant to him, and she did not want to be the one responsible for losing it. Not when he was already so angry at her.

  Each day they struggled on, higher and higher into what Ishbel realized must be the FarReach Mountains, traversing icy mountain paths, sheltering at night in rocky canyons so cold that she could not sleep for shaking. Her captors sat around a fire, but she was left on the outer reaches, and received little of its warmth.

  Days passed, each in a blur of exhaustion, drugged stupor, and desperation.

  Axis was enjoying himself as he had not in…dozens of years before his death, he thought. Isaiah had given him command of a squad of some four dozen armed men, plus several cooks, numerous valets and grooms, two guides, and several spare horses for everyone. It all made Axis wonder how Isaiah traveled with an army, if he gave less than fifty soldiers this much support.

  But he was glad of it. During the daylight hours they moved north, following the River Lhyl past the ruins of Setkoth to the west (which Axis would have loved to explore had they the time) and then the city of Azibar on the eastern bank. Because they had so many horses they traveled fast. Even the cooks’ wagon was lightweight and strong, and was able to keep up with the riders. They covered many leagues each day, changing horses at noon and midafternoon stops. At night, when they camped, Axis appreciated the food and assistance of the cooks and valets and grooms. For once, he and the soldiers he commanded could just swing off their horses in the evening and allow others to set up camp, and provide food and beds, and feed and water the horses.

  It was not just the freedom and exercise that Axis was enjoying, but the companionship of the soldiers as well. It made him realize, very forcefully, that of all the kinds of man he had once been—BattleAxe, Enchanter, Star-Man, Star God—it was the first he had loved the most. The soldier and commander, man of war and action and of doing.

  Isaiah had told Axis that the men under his command were among the best in Isaiah’s army, and were from his own personal guard. Axis was certainly impressed with them. They were quiet, determined, disciplined, almost as good as Isaiah in weapons practice (which meant they were faster and better than Axis, who had still to regain full battle fitness), and yet humorous and friendly and warm in the evening while not losing, even in that warmth and friendliness, their discipline or deference to Axis. Axis had thought they might resent him, but he saw no trace of it. They were good soldiers, better men, and engaging companions, and if they were representative of Isaiah’s larger army, then Axis envied Isaiah that army quite desperately.

  It also made him regard Isaiah in a different light. Axis could see Isaiah, or at least a reflection of him, as a battle leader, and it intrigued him. If Isaiah’s army was this good and this disciplined, then how was it Isaiah had failed so badly in the Eastern Independencies?

  Axis relaxed into his long-forgotten life as soldier and commander faster than he could ever have imagined. At night, as he had done when he was BattleAxe, he pulled from his kit a small travel harp that he had managed to find in Aqhat and entertained the company of men with songs and ballads from lost Tencendor. Axis may have lost the Star Dance, but he had not lost his musical ability and his fine singing voice, and the evenings were filled with laughter and song and companionship.

  So much so that Axis hardly remembered Azhure at all. When he did think of her, it was with warmth and affection, and a strange realization that she was fading further and further into his memory.

  Now that he was on the move and fallen back into the companionship of men and weapons, Axis no longer wrote her letters.

  When they reached the FarReach Dependency, Axis spent severa
l days with the general, Morfah, checking on behalf of Isaiah how the resettlement was going.

  The generals might not have been very happy about it (and Axis himself still could not see the reason why Isaiah was preparing this massive resettlement program to follow hard on the heels of the invasion), but they had done a good job. Village after village had been evacuated and dismantled, people, livestock, and goods moved across the Lhyl in vast numbers to congregate on the eastern plains between the river and Sakkuth. The FarReach Dependency was almost deserted, and Morfah told Axis (somewhat reluctantly, as Morfah clearly neither liked nor trusted Axis, and resented his intrusion) that there were only a few remaining populated towns and villages and that they, within weeks, would be empty.

  When Axis asked how the displaced people reacted to the news they were to be resettled in a foreign land, Morfah just shrugged.

  “They do as they are told,” he said. “They live resigned lives.”

  Axis raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t comment, and he wasn’t sure who was the more relieved of the two of them when he took his leave of Morfah the next morning.

  He was glad to leave the suffocating presence of the general. Back on the road, and back in the comfortable company of soldiers, Axis set thoughts of both Isaiah and Morfah to one side and enjoyed the sunshine and the vast open spaces, and the freedom of commanding his own fate, even if only for a short while.

  Thus, happier than he’d been in many years, Axis led his men north, toward the FarReach Mountains and Isaiah’s new, stolen bride.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Palace of the First, Yoyette, Coroleas

  StarDrifter SunSoar, Prince of the Icarii, may I join you?”

  StarDrifter turned on the garden bench, bristling with anger both at the salutation and at the intrusion. Prince of the Icarii? That was either sarcasm or flattery, and StarDrifter despised both.

  A man stood a pace or two away. He was entirely nondescript, from his middling height to his middling features to his middling brown eyes, but there was something about him that StarDrifter instinctively disliked.

  That hint of slyness in the man’s eyes, perhaps, or those too casually clasped hands held before him.

  “I came to the garden for peace,” said StarDrifter. “Go away.”

  He turned his back on the intruder, not caring if he offended.

  The man behind him drew a breath preparatory to speaking, and StarDrifter tensed. All he wanted was to be left alone, and if that man started to whine at him about wanting to know all about the Icarii race, then he was going to leap up from this garden bench and—

  “I was having a noonday meal with your son Axis not a few weeks past,” said the stranger, “and wondered if you’d like to know what he—”

  “What?” StarDrifter exploded off the bench, so startling the man that he almost stumbled in his haste to step backward.

  “What manner of cruel mischief is this, then?” StarDrifter said, striding up to him and taking a fistful of the man’s shirt in his hand. “Who put you up to this?”

  The man did not flinch in the face of StarDrifter’s anger. “I am sorry to so disturb you with the news of your son’s return,” he said softly. “I apologize. I should have spoken more circumspectly.”

  “Who are you?” said StarDrifter. “And what the fuck do you want from me?”

  “Merely a few moments of your time,” said the man, who seemed to be growing in confidence with every breath. “I can offer you news of your son, and I can offer you a means by which to regain the Star Dance, but if you’re not interested…”

  StarDrifter almost hit the man. He was furious, not only that this man had been sent, for whatever reason, to torment him, but that he might actually be telling the truth. Axis had returned, and there might be a means to once more revel within the magic of the Star Dance, but, oh, to even think about that was so brutally painful that StarDrifter did not think he could bear it.

  “Who are you?” he said, almost spitting the words out.

  “My name is Ba’al’uz, and I come from the Tyranny of Isembaard to the south of the FarReach Mountains. I understand your distress, StarDrifter, and once again I apologize for my overdirectness in approaching you, but if you could kindly release me…”

  StarDrifter let the man’s shirt go and stood back. His blue eyes were brilliant with emotion, his face flushed, and anger radiated out of him like a dangerous fever. Ba’al’uz thought that StarDrifter exuded far more presence than his son, the Icarii’s anger being underscored by a powerful sensuality and an undisciplined ego.

  He would suit Ba’al’uz’ purpose very well.

  “I don’t believe you,” said StarDrifter.

  “Of course you don’t,” Ba’al’uz said, “for I have not yet had a chance to explain myself. May we sit?”

  “No. Just tell me what you must, then leave.”

  “You are not going to want me to leave once you hear what I have to say,” Ba’al’uz said softly.

  “Just say it!”

  “In the land where I come from, we have a powerful structure. We call it DarkGlass Mountain, although in ages past it was known as Threshold. It acts in the same manner as your Star Gate once did, and, although it is infinitely more powerful than the Star Gate was, it is capable of being controlled and directed. It is perfectly possible that DarkGlass Mountain can filter the music of the Star Dance for you. If it does not do so already, then that is because no one has ever asked it to try.”

  StarDrifter did not know what to say. He stared at this man, almost hating him for what he was saying—Was it true? Could it possibly be true?—and wanting to have the strength to just turn his back and walk away from him.

  “Perhaps a small demonstration?” Ba’al’uz said.

  StarDrifter replied only with a flat stare.

  Ba’al’uz gave a small shrug of indifference to StarDrifter’s continuing hostility and gestured to a stone bench, where StarDrifter sat down, his every movement stiff.

  “So far distant from DarkGlass Mountain,” said Ba’al’uz, “I can only draw forth a fraction of the power normally available to me, but it shall be enough to give you an idea of the pyramid’s potential.”

  He gathered some twigs from the ground and sat at the other end of the bench, leaving a clear stretch of stone between himself and StarDrifter. “Now, if you could hold these twigs here, like this, yes, thank you, and I take these and hold them so, then we have the most basic of structures, a pyramid, yes?”

  StarDrifter made no response. His anger hadn’t abated, but now he felt foolish also, for allowing this man to trick him into this—

  “Watch,” said Ba’al’uz, very softly. “Watch the pyramid.”

  The two men held between them a loosely constructed pyramid of twigs. As StarDrifter looked down, he felt the unmistakable aura of power emanating from the man Ba’al’uz. He glanced at the man’s face, then looked down at the twigs again.

  And gasped.

  A moment ago the structure had been nothing but loose twigs held together in the vague semblance of a pyramid.

  Now the twigs had vanished, replaced by lines of light enclosing a space that glowed with a very soft rosy radiance.

  Ba’al’uz muttered something, and the rosy radiance dissipated, replaced with a view of a fair-haired and bearded man sitting under the stars by a fire, entertaining a group of soldiers with a harp.

  StarDrifter’s mouth dropped open.

  That was Axis!

  The vision faded, and a moment later the lines of light were replaced once more by twigs, which Ba’al’uz let topple slowly to the ground.

  StarDrifter could not for the moment speak. He was still stunned at seeing his son. He did not doubt what he’d seen. That had not been a vision conjured from the far past, when Axis had been BattleAxe. For one thing, Axis had been wearing unfamiliar clothes, and for another, he’d worn the face that StarDrifter had last seen—tired and careworn—if now overlaid with something else…a sense of mis
chief, StarDrifter thought. His son was having fun, whatever he was doing.

  “Why is my son back?” StarDrifter said. “How did he come back?”

  “I brought him back,” said Ba’al’uz, lying in order to secure StarDrifter’s full cooperation, “using the power of DarkGlass Mountain. If it can do that, StarDrifter, it can touch the Star Dance for you as well.”

  “Take me to him,” StarDrifter said. “Please.”

  Oh, gods, Axis was back!

  Slyness slipped all about Ba’al’uz’ face. “Of course,” he said, “but in return I would ask that you do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “I would like you to steal the Weeper from Salome, the Duchess of Sidon.” Ba’al’uz smiled as StarDrifter looked shocked. “You can think of it as a parting gift to the Coroleans.”

  “I can’t…no one can get near the Weeper. Stars, Ba’al’uz, that is the most closely guarded deity in Coroleas!”

  Ba’al’uz noted that StarDrifter had not actually refused.

  “Perhaps we can discuss this over a glass of wine somewhere?” he said. “If you are willing, I can tell you just how easy it shall be to take the deity…and free its soul.”

  Ba’al’uz had noted StarDrifter’s disgust during Fillip Day, and thought he understood the reason behind it.

  “I want to free the Weeper,” Ba’al’uz said. “Do you?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The FarReach Mountains

  The group of five Icarii had been searching for weeks with no success save for rumors and some unsubstantiated reports. They’d flown to Deepend, to discover that, yes, a group of men had come through, and they might have had a woman with them, but no one could remember much detail. One man suggested that the group had continued farther south, perhaps aiming for the FarReach Mountains.

  StarWeb had never liked Ishbel, and by now had come to loathe her. Without even trying, so it seemed, Ishbel trailed havoc, murder, and heartache behind her. StarWeb could not understand why Maximilian was so besotted with the woman.