‘Whatever the who and the why, soon my name was being spoken with revulsion by every Llangarlian. My mother kept me close while my belly swelled, not even letting me outside her house during those long, long months; she was terrified I might do something to lose the child, and that she would not allow. When my time came to give birth… by Mag herself, Brutus, it was terrible. Worse than what Cornelia went through. No one helped me, but my mother, and my very youngest sister, Genvissa, stood there for all those long hours, watching silently. I tore apart as I gave birth—because of that I have
been unable to give Corineus children—”
Her voice broke on a sob, and she had to take some time to compose herself.
Brutus laid a hand on her shoulder, knowing that she would accept no more than that small gesture of sympathy.
‘I tore apart with the birth, and as soon as my son was born, and I put him to my breast, my mother leaned down and took him without a word or a look to me. The next day, still bleeding, I was delivered to the merchant who wived and bedded me within the day, and who bore me from Llangarlia.”
‘Oh, gods, Blangan…”
‘Now that I am back,” Blangan continued as if Brutus had not spoken, “my name will be blacker than ever. I will be the evil Darkwitch who destroyed the land’s well-being, and who decimated Og’s power.
At some point, I will be taken and killed. The MagaLlan cannot afford for me to have my say.”
‘I will protect you—”
‘I doubt very much if you will be able to protect me. Not here. Not in Llangarlia.”
‘I will—”
‘No, shush.” Blangan put her fingers on his mouth. “Make no promises you cannot keep. I am at peace with this. If I had wanted to escape death, Brutus, I would not have come with you.”
‘Corineus…”
‘Do not tell Corineus. There is no point. And do not tell Cornelia.”
Why not Cornelia? wondered Brutus. What has she to do with all this ? And suddenly that nasty worm of suspicion flowered again within his belly. Cori neus… widowed… and Cornelia. But then Blangan was speaking again, and Brutus tore his mind away from Cornelia and Corineus.
‘There is more I must say, and if you have found the previous difficult to accept, then I fear that what I say now will make you angry. But say it I must.” “Genvissa,” he said, his voice low.
‘Aye. Genvissa. My younger sister and undoubtedly MagaLlan by now. That day you first met me you described her to me, Brutus, and Cornelia tells me you have dreamed of a strange woman.”
Damn Cornelia, Brutus thought. Has she told you how thick my erect member is? How many times I prefer to move my bowels every week? How golden my stream of piss is in the morning as compared to the evening ?
‘Cornelia has needed a friend, Brutus. If she has told me that you have dreamed of this woman, then do not begrudge her this.”
‘She has dreamed of—”
‘Not of her young lover who you murdered, Brutus. Yes, she has told me of that as well… but are you aware that Genvissa has also appeared to her in a dream? Cornelia does not yet know the identity of
the woman who appeared to her… but she described her to me, and it was Genvissa.”
‘What? When? She has not told me…”
‘She would not think to have told you, Brutus, because she blames herself for what happened, not the woman—the goddess, Cornelia thinks her—who appeared to her… and told her in precise detail how to plan and organize the Dorian uprising in Mesopotama!”
Brutus was so shocked that he could only stare at Blangan, openmouthed.
‘Cornelia has also told me of the manner in which Mesopotama died, Brutus. She told me of the cracks that spread up the walls of buildings. Cracks, Brutus, that sound very much like those that appeared in Locrinia.”
‘You can’t think—”
‘I think , Brutus, that Genvissa’s hand is everywhere in your life for the past year. Cornelia may have been a thoughtless young girl, but not everything she has done has been on her initiative only.
‘Genvissa has brought you here for a reason. I have no idea what that reason is, but I fear it is dangerous, both to you and to the Llangarlians.”
‘I cannot think her that cruel. That manipulative.”
Blangan sat back, a cold hard smile on her face. “No, of course you can’t.”
And with that she despaired, for she could see in Brutus’ hesitation that Genvissa had already caught him within her darkcraft.
How I wish, she thought in a sudden rush of cold horror, that I had not told him as much as I did .
Poor Cornelia. She will never be a queen in this land. Genvissa will see to that.
IT WAS VERY LATE AT NIGHT WHEN BRUTUS LAY DOWN beside a deeply asleep Cornelia. He was exhausted, but with all Blangan had told him, he did not think he would be able to sleep for hours, if at all.
Cornelia was curled up under her blanket, a bundled shape held tightly against her breast, and Brutus lay his head against her shoulders, thoughtful.
Had Genvissa manipulated all of them?
Was that terrible revolt, and all the subsequent death, Cornelia’s fault entirely, or should the fault be shared? He reached an arm over Cornelia, and touched his son.
Cornelia did not stir, and Brutus did not wake her. He left his arm lying across her body, his fingertips lightly touching his son, and despite thinking he would never sleep, slipped quickly into an exhausted slumber.
WHEN BRUTUS WOKE IN THE MORNING, IT WAS TO FIND that he’d rolled far away from Cornelia and Achates, and that, as he recalled what Blangan had said to him the previous night, it was to dismiss it as the addled meanderings of a woman grief-stricken and bitter at her inability to bear her husband children.
WHEN HE DREAMED, IT WAS NOT OF CORNELIA, BUT OF the dark-haired, laughing woman with the streak of russet through her hair.
Genvissa.
She was standing before him laughing, naked, her hands splayed over her round pregnant belly. As he stood staring, lust stirring in him even though she was pregnant, her belly swelled, as if months passed instead of moments, then Genvissa dropped to the ground, moaning.
She writhed once or twice in agony, then lay on her back and spread and lifted her legs, and strained to give birth.
Brutus moved, looking between her thighs.
Genvissa screamed, arching her back, and something slithered from her birth canal and lay between her legs.
It was not a baby at all, but a city.
It was the city he had seen on the wall in Assaracus’ house. Beautiful, extraordinary, white-walled, many-turreted, gleaming in the sunlight. A city such as the world had never seen before.
Genvissa raised herself on her elbows, and looked over her now flaccid belly to what lay between her legs. She smiled, and Brutus thought her face lovelier even than the city.
“See what we have made between us, lover,” she said. “The greatest city the world will ever know.”
He dropped to his knees beside her shoulder, and leaned down and kissed her deeply.
As he raised his face from hers, she said, “Other women may give you sons, Brutus, but only I can give you immortality.”
Only I can give you immortality…
eigbcHEY RODE THROUGH THE FOREST, THREE MEN ON low, sturdy, shaggy-haired dun horses. Under their light cloaks they wore finely woven woolen tunics, richly patterned and colored, over similarly fine woolen leggings. Knives were slipped under their belts, and at their hips swung swords of elegant craftsmanship.
One man, of some thirty years, was set apart from the other two by the fine bronze and gold jewelry he wore in his ears and at his neck and wrists. He had very pale skin, dark hair and eyes, and a sensitive, thin, and clean-shaven face with light grooves running from nose to mouth. When he chose, and that was often under normal circumstances, he also had a brilliant smile.
Atop his physical comeliness, the man wore an air of moodiness about him, and a certain degree of mysticism, that, while complementing his sensitive face, seemed at odds with his warrior bearing and the hardness of his hands.
His name was Coel, a proud younger son of the House of Erith, and while he came here at the behest of the MagaLlan (and through her, the Gormagog), his true allegiance was to Loth, with whom he had played as a boy, watched over as a youth, and confided in as a man.
His mission was twofold, to escort the leader of this vast fleet north to the Veiled Hills, where he might meet with the MagaLlan and the Gormagog, but also to lead Loth’s mother, Siangan, to her death.