Sara Douglass - The Serpent Bride

“No! Never! Have you lost your senses, Lister?” Ba’al’uz wondered if Kanubai was whispering to Lister as well, and felt a knot of jealousy in his belly.

Again that dismissive wave of the hand from Lister. “So. You travel north to create havoc and mayhem in order to prepare the way for Isaiah and myself?”

“Yes. Much havoc and mayhem.”

“You are a good lad, Ba’al’uz,” said Lister, “and in the new order, once Isaiah and I have succeeded, you can be assured of many and mighty rewards.”

Fool , thought Ba’al’uz. In the new order you can be assured of a swift and bitter end.

“We shall keep in touch,” said Lister, “just to let each other know what is going on, yes?”

“Of course,” said Ba’al’uz.

Lister put his pyramid on the table in the central chamber of his castle of Crowhurst deep in the frozen north and looked at his companion. The man lounged back in his chair, snowy wings spread out to either side of him, one foot resting on the seat of another chair, frost trailing down one bare shoulder and arm to where a hand rested on the tabletop, and regarded Lister with grey eyes alive with amusement.

He was a strange creature, at first sight an Icarii, but at second … something else. His form was not completely solid, but made up rather of shifting shades of grey and white and silver, and small drifts of frost. Even his eyelashes were frosted, and when he lifted a hand from where it had rested on the table it left a patch of icy condensation, which quickly evaporated in the warmth of the chamber. He was of a race called the Lealfast, and they had, for their own reasons, closely allied themselves with the Lord of the Skraelings.

“Did you hear?” Lister said.

“Yes,” said his companion, Eleanon. “DarkGlass Mountain has begun its infernal whispering, as much as Ba’al’uz tries to deny it.”

“ And caught Ba’al’uz in its clutches,” said Lister. “The question is, my friend, do we continue to use the madman, or dispose of him here and now?”

Eleanon gave a small shrug. “He is moving away from DarkGlass Mountain. He should still be malleable. Besides, you need him in the Central Kingdoms. Isaiah has to invade, and none of us wants to have an army waiting to meet him at the other end of the Salamaan Pass. Ba’al’uz can create the chaos to prevent that.”

“True,” Lister said, his fingers tapping on the table. “We will need to keep an eye on Ba’al’uz, though. One never knows which way his loyalties will dart next.”

“I loathe it that he has one of the spires,” said Eleanon, speaking of the glass pyramids. “If I’d known you would give one to that vile creature then none of us would have consented to give them to you.”

“He does not know what it is,” said Lister. “He has no means at all to comprehend it. But to the real news. Isaiah has brought Axis SunSoar back from the Otherworld. All on his own.” Lister gave a little laugh. “I’d never thought Isaiah would have the initiative to do something like that. How do you feel about it, Eleanon? The legendary StarMan back from the dead?”

“He means nothing to me.”

Lister gave him a long look. “Of course not. And he is, after all, so far away. But what if, Eleanon — just suppose, if you please — one day Axis thought to command you?”

“I answer only to you, Lister.”

Lister gave a small smile, and then a nod. “And, of course … ?”

“And, of course, to the Lord of Elcho Falling.”

Axis enjoyed Ba’al’uz’ absence. Without Ba’al’uz’ sly, insidious terror, the entire palace relaxed: servants smiled as they went about their daily duties, the frogs who lived in the reed banks of the River Lhyl sang more melodiously, the sun shone less fiercely and Isaiah spent less time at his official duties and more time at leisure, when Axis could join him.

One of the first things Axis noticed was that, in the weeks following Ba’al’uz’ departure, he was allowed far more liberty to move about the palace and its surrounds. Guards were either unobtrusive or utterly absent. Axis still could not ride out into the countryside by himself, but in all other respects he was given the freedom of Aqhat.

Axis did not abuse the privilege. There was nowhere he wished to “escape” to, anyway. His family, everyone he loved, existed in a world other than this, and Axis did not fret for them. They were safe, and he believed that Azhure would know something of where he was. She would not fret, either, although Axis was sure she missed him.

He most certainly missed her companionship and love. Not desperately, but it was a constant ache in his otherwise peaceful existence at Aqhat. To counter it, Axis spent hours each night writing Azhure long letters about what he’d done during the day, and his observations of Isaiah and of Isembaardian life in general. Axis had never been a great wordsmith. As BattleAxe and then StarMan the pen had always been Axis’ least favourite weapon of choice. Indeed, he’d hardly written anything save the occasional battle order, and he and Azhure had always been able to communicate by more magical means than letters during their occasional absences from each other. But now Axis found a great serenity in writing, and found himself enjoying playing with words, and expanding his literary skills.

Most of all, though, Axis found it beneficial to order his experiences and thoughts. The mere process of revising his day onto paper deepened his experiences: he remembered odd comments or sights that he might otherwise have forgotten, and was able to glean new insights in relating individual experiences to each other.

Once Axis had finished a letter, he carefully folded it, wondering what Azhure might think of what he’d written: how her interpretation of his experiences might differ from his, how she’d laugh over some amusing incident … or his cumbersome prose. The closing of the letter, and his imagining of Azhure’s reaction to its contents, was the sweetest moment of the entire process, and one he looked forward to greatly.

Then, once it was folded and sealed, Axis left the letter on the table in his chamber and went to bed accompanied by the agreeable chorus of the frogs coming in the window.

In the morning, every morning, the previous night’s letter would be gone.

Axis didn’t know where the letters went. Perhaps, by some magic, they were actually transported to Azhure’s hand. More prosaically (and far more likely), Isaiah had a servant creep in during the night and remove the letter to Isaiah’s hand. Axis often had a quiet laugh to himself, imagining Isaiah secreting himself away in a corner somewhere to read what Axis had written, and he wondered if Isaiah kept the letters, or burned each one once he’d read it.

Whatever the reason — Ba’al’uz’ absence, or Axis’ letters — he and Isaiah were becoming closer. They spent many evenings together, and days were spent riding out across the plains to the east. More importantly, Isaiah began to include Axis into his public persona as tyrant.