Sara Douglass - The Serpent Bride

She rose. “At Pelemere then, my lady,” and with that she stepped to the window and lifted out into the gloomy sky.

Ishbel hoped she had done the right thing. She’d held out as long as she could, loathing StarWeb for her persistence, and for putting her, Ishbel, archpriestess of the Coil, into such a vile and humiliating position. She hadn’t wanted to capitulate at all, but the Great Serpent had been so insistent the marriage take place … and if the only way that it was going to take place was to agree that it need not be ratified until she was pregnant, well then …

She had not been going to agree, but last night she’d dreamed that the Great Serpent had appeared before her, on his knees (if a serpent could manage such a feat), reminding her that the marriage must take place. It must. So much depended on it.

Shaken and worried, Ishbel had capitulated as far as her own pride would allow her.

Ishbel sighed, her hand creeping over her belly, hesitating, then making the sign of the Coil. She would be unable to get pregnant — if Maximilian thought he’d get an heir out of her then he would be sadly disappointed — because she’d given up all her reproductive abilities when she’d been inducted into the Coil.

Would it matter?

No, she decided. A civil marriage would still take place — the marriage would be legal — but the formal union between her and Maximilian, between their lands and wealth and titles, would never eventuate. A marriage with the man would surely be enough for the Great Serpent. It was all he had wanted. Surely.

Ishbel wondered if she even need bed with him. Perhaps she’d manage to find a way around that, as well.

A thousand leagues to the south-west, Ba’al’uz sat cross-legged in the open window of his chamber in the palace of Aqhat, staring at the great pyramid across the River Lhyl.

Tonight Kanubai communicated less in whispers than in shared emotion. There was seething resentment directed towards Isaiah, which Ba’al’uz could understand, given his own seething resentment of the tyrant, although he did not yet understand why Kanubai should also resent him so much — and with the faintest undertone of fear.

Ba’al’uz also felt a dark hatred at imprisonment from Kanubai, as well as a cold, terrifying desire for revenge.

The cold desire for revenge was something Ba’al’uz understood very well.

And there was something else, a formless worry, that Kanubai enunciated more in emotion than in words.

Every so often, though, a whispered phrase came through, although what Ba’al’uz was supposed to make of “The Lord of Elcho Falling” he had no idea.

The Lord of Elcho Falling stirs.

There was more hatred and worry underpinning that phrase, and so Ba’al’uz decided that he would hate and fear the Lord of Elcho Falling as well.

He would kill him, he thought, should he ever meet him.

Isaiah, Tyrant of Isembaard, picked up the pyramid of glass, holding it in his hands as gingerly as if it contained the manner of his death. Then he raised his eyes and looked for a long moment into the shadowed depths of the chamber.

Axis sat there, hidden from the view of the pyramid. He had gained much in strength over the past days and was well enough to spend most of the day out of bed.

But he still didn’t trust Isaiah, and was still angry at him for dragging Axis out of death.

Isaiah could understand that and he hoped that after today he and Axis might be a little closer to friendship.

Axis returned Isaiah’s gaze, his face expressionless.

Isaiah studied the rose-tinged glass pyramid again.

“There are only a very few of these in existence,” Isaiah said quietly. “I have one.” He hefted it, as if Axis needed the visual reinforcement. “Ba’al’uz has one, and our ally has one. If there are more then I do not know of them.”

“Where did they come from!” said Axis. “I sense great power coming from the one you hold.”

“They were a gift from my ally, Lister. One for him, one for Ba’al’uz —”

“What did Ba’al’uz do to deserve such a gift?”

Isaiah shrugged, choosing not to answer that. “And one for me. They make communication easier than it might otherwise be.”

He paused, his attention now firmly on the glass pyramid in his hand. “I am going to speak to Lister now, my friend. It would be best for all concerned if you remained unobserved.”

There was no answering sound or movement from the shadows.

Isaiah settled the pyramid carefully into the palm of his left hand, took a deep breath, then placed his right hand about it.

A moment later the glass glowed through the gaps of his fingers. First pink, then red, then it flared suddenly a deep gold before muting back to a soft yellow.

Isaiah slid his right hand away from the pyramid. “Greetings, Lister,” he said.

While the glass pyramid still rested in Isaiah’s hand, its shape was now so indistinct as to be almost indistinguishable. An ascetic, lined face topped with thinning brown hair now looked back at Isaiah from deep within the glass.

Isaiah was careful not to even suggest a glance towards the shadows.

“I hope all goes well?” Isaiah said.

“The negotiations between Maximilian and Ishbel proceed,” Lister said. “Ishbel still does not like the idea of marriage, but intends to do as I, as we , wish, and Maximilian worries about the past rising to meet him. I hear he is stamping about his palace at Ruen in a right black temper. Maximilian and Ishbel are to meet in Pelemere, there to conduct a marriage if they find each other agreeable.”

“That is good. How go your ‘friends’?”

“My ‘friends’?”

Isaiah sighed, trying very hard not to look at Axis watching keenly from the far recesses of the room. “The Skraelings,” he said. “Are they massing?”

Axis made no sound, but from the corner of his eyes Isaiah saw him tense.

“Yes,” said Lister, “although still not in quantities enough to seethe south. Not this winter, but next, surely.”

“They pose no danger to you at Crowhurst?”

“I toss them scraps from my table, and speak kind words to them. They tolerate me. I do not think they will be a danger to me.”

“Be careful.”

In the pyramid Lister’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. “And what are you about, Isaiah?” Lister said. “How go your plans? Do you mass your army?”

“My forces accrue,” said Isaiah, “as do the stores I will need for the march north. In addition, I am sending Ba’al’uz beyond the FarReach Mountains within the fortnight. He will prepare the way for our invasion. I admit myself pleased at the thought of getting him out of the palace.”

“He could be more danger out of your sight than within it.”

Now it was Isaiah’s turn to shrug. “It is better, I think, to remove him from DarkGlass Mountain’s presence for the moment.”