Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 2 – Enchanter

The Hall fell silent the instant Axis and Azhure stepped into view on the main staircase. They were a magnificent pair, both handsome, young and confident, the man golden and scarlet, drawing every glimmer of light in the Hall towards him, the woman tall and dark, moving so gracefully down the flight of stairs she seemed to glide rather than walk. Azhure held Caelum in her arms, and he gazed at the gathering below with the serene blue eyes his mother had bequeathed him. Though his hair was starting to grow out into an unruly tangle of black curls, Reinald’s rheumy eyes could see that the boy had inherited the Icarii bone structurefrom his father.

Axis moved to the great fireplace, letting the leaping firelight further enhance his already golden aura, letting all who wished to talk with him come to him. Rivkah stood by him, smiling and laughing. Azhure, however, baby tucked in one arm and a glass of wine in the other, moved among the guests. She was calm and relaxed now, none of the emotion and doubt she had felt earlier showing on her face. As they had walked down into the Great Hall, she’d realised that all the eyes raised to her and Axis contained respect, a great deal of admiration, a trace of envy, and even a little love. She had searched anxiously for traces of derision, but found none. These people accepted her. Axis had smiled at her from the corner of his eyes as his voice spoke in her head. You could command them as easily as I, Azhure, and as easily as you do me. Never underestimate either your power or your abilities.

She had felt both his love and that of her son wash through her at that moment, and then, stunningly, Caelum spoke in her mind as well, something he had never done before. Azhure. That is your name. I know that. Both father and son lent her strength, and Azhure suddenly realised that whatever troubles the future held she would somehow survive. So she smiled, laughed, and stepped down into the throng.

“Roland.” Azhure paused to talk with the sick Duke of Aldeni.

When he had arrived with the Ravensbundmen, Roland had been close to death. Already weakened by his wasting sickness, the hard ride north to Sigholt from Jervois Landing had debilitated him to the point where he’d spent some four days in bed, unable to move. When Roland had recovered a little, Axis had asked him why he had decided to desert Borneheld now, after fighting with him so long. Roland had replied simply that he was dying, and wanted to die with his heart and his conscience at peace. “I stayed with what I thought was right for a very long time,” Roland had said, “but when Borneheld ordered Gautier to crucify the three Ravensbundmen, I knew that I had been wrong. I want to die honourably, Axis. Let me stay. Please.” And Axis had let him stay.

Reinald had persuaded Roland to make the effort to stumble down to the Lake of Life. “The Lake has helped my arthritis,” Reinald told him, and the Lake had also helped Roland, shrinking the growth in his belly and invigorating him with new life.

But Axis had told Azhure that death still lingered in the corners of Rolands vision, and while it might not catch the man this month, or even this year, he doubted that Roland would live longer than two more years.

Roland stared curiously at Azhure as they chatted. She looked Nors, but there was an indefinable quality about her that Roland could not place. No wonder Axis has set thoughts of Faraday aside, Roland thought, smiling at Azhure’s witty remarks about the Icarii musicians, when he has this to tempt him here. And she has given him a son. The baby was unusually alert, even perceptive, for such a young babe, watching all about him with his wide blue eyes. Roland wondered if it was his fairy blood that made him so sharp-witted. His eyes flitted down to the hound at Azhure s side. Nevelon had told him of this woman and her skill with the bow and her pack of killer ghost hounds. Perhaps the baby had inherited as much fairy blood from his mother as from his father.

“Poor Nevelon,” Azhure said, abrupdy changing the topic of her conversation. “I heard he was seized by a Gryphon.”

Startled, Roland could only nod. She must have fairy blood, he thought, to read my mind thus.

“We lost some of our own close friends to the Gryphon pack,” Azhure continued. “They are truly frightful creatures. I am sorry that I wounded Nevelon, Duke Roland. Magariz told me that he was a good man.”

“He was confused by the changes about him, my Lady Azhure. As so many of us have been.”

Azhure accepted the title without comment and sipped her wine. The light and the music and the conversation hummed about her and her son clung close to her side.

“It takes courage to accept what strange turns life provides,” she said eventually, realising this piece of advice applied as much to her as it did to Roland. Have courage, and accept. Yes, that was good advice. She would simply accept the direction in which life had thrown her. Mistress? Courtesan? Perhaps. Loved? Yes, and yes twice over.

“Do you know,” Roland said casually, “that about three years ago I advised Axis never to marry, or let himself love too much? I told him a dedicated fighting man could never devote enough time to both a sword and a woman. Of the two, I advised, the sword would give him the more loyal service.”

Azhure’s eyes widened and Roland smiled. “I was wrong, Azhure, and I am glad Axis has ignored my foolish advice. He could never have achieved this,” he waved his hand about the Great Hall of Sigholt, “without you by his side. What I am trying to say is that no matter how hard we try to manipulate life, oftentimes life manipulates us – and oftentimes for the better, even though we might not realise or acknowledge it at the rime. Axis has been fortunate that you walked into his life, my Lady Azhure. About Sigholt, your name is almost as legendary as his.”

Tears sprang into Azhure s eyes. Caelum wriggled in her arms, and reached out his hands for Roland. Laughing, the dying man lifted Caelum into his own. “If Axis succeeds, then one day this one will be a King,” he said and Caelum gurgled contentedly.

“Azhure, Roland.” Belial stepped up and greeted them both, EvenSong by his side. EvenSong had reverted to her natural wing colours of gold and violet for this evening’s reception and wore a silken ivory gown.

A servant came by with a decanter of Romsdale gold, and refilled glasses with the dry, fruity wine.

“Axis’ supply routes are better than I could have believed,” Roland remarked, bouncing Caelum expertly in one arm, “if he drinks Romsdale gold while Borneheld and his closest commanders sip rough red.”

“This wine was laid down in the cellars of Sigholt years ago, Roland,” Belial said. “Even this crowd would find it hard to drink their way through the stocks in under three years. Supply routes? Not as good as they were.” Belial suddenly looked decidedly worried. “Earl Burdel has been wreaking havoc in Skarabost. Our supplies have been cut in half over the past few weeks, and look like dropping further. Luckily, Sigholt is already well supplied by its gardens and the game in the green hills about the Lake of Life.”

“But not enough to keep the Keep and the growing town fed indefinitely?” Roland said.

“No. We will have to do something about Burdel soon. It is not only the supply routes that he decimates, but much of the population of Skarabost as well. Roland, did Borneheld order this?”

Roland nodded unhappily. “Yes. Yes, he did. He thought it would annoy Axis. Cause him some problems.”

“Well, it’s working,” Belial said. “Axis will have to move south soon anyway, but the sooner because of Burdel.”

South? Faraday lay south. Azhure abruptly reached forward and lifted Caelum back into her own arms. “I see Ogden andVeremund,” she said.

Then she was gone.

Belial raised his eyebrows at Roland and EvenSong, “What did I say?”

By the fireplace Axis was trying desperately to keep an interested expression on his face as a pair of traders from Tarantaise stood beaming enthusiastically in front of him. One of them had been talking nonstop for what seemed like an hour, trying to sell Axis a cartload of fine linen thread.

“Rivkah!” Axis murmured in a plea for help.

Rivkah stepped forward. “Gentlemen.” Her eyes moved over both men. “We are flattered by your offer. In other circumstances, I would have pleaded with my son to purchase your cartload of threads, but,” her face fell in a good imitation of woe, “we are at war, and my son refuses to buy such luxuries for his mother.”