Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

or…”

Maximilian winced as Garth moved the compress, then waved at him to take the thing

away.

“Everything is going wrong,” Maximilian said. “Too many things.”

He stopped, and the other two waited.

After a long moment Maximilian sighed, gingerly stretching his upper back and

shoulders. “I need to go back to Malat,” he said. “Maybe they were his men, maybe not, but I need to see him. And…maybe he can give me some clue as to what is going on.”

Maximilian”s voice broke on that last, and Egalion stood up, and rested a hand on his

shoulder.

“We”ll find her, Maxel,” he said.

“I doubt that very, very much,” Maximilian said softly.

Malat could not believe it when he heard that his soldiers had apprehended the King of

Escator a mile out of Kyros and that Maximilian was requesting to see him.

“He was heading back?” he said. “To see me? Does he have a death wish?”

“He has been injured in some fight,” said the captain of the guard. “Perhaps he is looking

for sympathy.”

Malat cursed. “Then I wish well to whoever injured him, but they could have done a

better job and stopped his heart entirely.”

“What should we do with him, sire?”

“Is his entire retinue with him?”

“Several of his Emerald Guard,” said the captain, “but none of his other companions.

Maximilian said they waited for him at an inn some distance along the road.”

“What the fuck does he want?” Malat muttered. “Why disturb me in this fashion? Oh,

damn it, put him in a dungeon—the coldest, dampest one you can find—and tell him I will

consider his request for an audience over my evening meal.”

“Sire,” the captain said, “Maximilian said the matter was desperate.”

“Desperate is the state of my heart,” said Malat. “Maximilian has no right to use the

word.” He fell silent, studying the captain of the guard, who was now looking decidedly

uncomfortable. “Oh, very well, bring him in an hour to the smaller audience chamber—and

empty it of any servants, guards, and courtiers beforehand. I will see him then.”

“Sire, do you think it wise to talk with this brigand without protection?”

“If he so much as takes a step in my direction,” Malat said, “I”ll run him through with a

sword. Now, go, and leave me in peace.”

The smaller audience chamber was an unadorned room with few windows, paneled in

dark wood, and with an air of such somberness that very few people had ever dared laugh in its

confines.

It suited Malat”s mood perfectly.

One of the double doors at the other end of the chamber opened, and the captain of the

guard escorted Maximilian through.

At Malat”s tip of his head, the captain retired, closing the door behind him.

“To what,” said Malat, his voice underscored with venom, “do I owe this honor?”

“Ishbel has been taken,” Maximilian said, walking forward from the far end of the

chamber, “by your men.”

“What!” Malat leapt from his chair. “How dare you—”

“They told me,” said Maximilian, stopping halfway down the chamber, “that you wanted

me to suffer the same pain as you suffered, and that I should never see Ishbel again. I want my

wife, Malat. I did not murder your son, and now I want my wife back!”

Malat stopped a few paces away, studying Maximilian carefully. He was disheveled and

dirty, his face tired and drawn with both physical and emotional pain, and the neck of his shirt

appeared crusted with dried blood.

Malat walked forward, held Maximilian”s eyes for a long moment, then slowly walked

about him, noting the deep bruising and scabbed abrasion at the back of his head.

“What happened?” he said.

“Your men came, on your orders, and took my wife, beating me that I might not rescue

her.”

Malat was now back in front of Maximilian. Again, he spent a long moment holding

Maximilian”s eyes. “You don”t believe that,” Malat said.

“I am left to believe only what my eyes showed me and my ears told me,” Maximilian

snapped. “Did you send your men to take my wife and threaten her death?”

“No. Do you believe me?”

Maximilian took a deep breath, passing a trembling hand over his eyes. “Yes. If you”d

sent men, their orders would have been to murder me, not take my wife.”

“Correct. These men looked like mine?”

“They wore your livery, badges…perfect replicas of the uniform your guards wear.”

“What is happening, Maximilian?”

“I…don”t…know.”

Malat sighed, then took Maximilian by the elbow and led him to a chair. He sat him

down, then went to a sideboard and poured each of them a glass of wine.

“All right, then,” Malat said, handing Maximilian his wine, then sitting down in a chair

opposite. “Tell me what you think is happening.”

“Someone has tried before to kill Ishbel. Someone is trying to implicate me in the deaths

of Allemorte and Borchard. People are dying in a trail from the Outlands to Kyros, and the trail

of death is following me. I don”t know why. I don”t know why, Malat.” Maximilian was now

almost certain that these deaths were tied in with Elcho Falling, or whatever was going wrong

with the world that required Elcho Falling to stir into life, but that Maximilian could not discuss

with Malat. “Now Ishbel has gone. I don”t understand…why take her?”

Malat could think of several highly carnal reasons a group of men might want to seize

Ishbel, but thought it best not to share his thoughts with Maximilian.

“Apart from Ishbel,” Malat said, “the other three men share something in common.”

Maximilian just looked at him. He was too tired and disheartened to speak.

“They”re all highborn,” said Malat, “but…they”re all good generals. Some of the best.”

Very carefully Maximilian put his wineglass down on the floor, then rested his elbows on

his knees and his face in his hands. He should have seen that. Rilm Evenor had been the best war

general in the Outlands, and the one with the most experience and the wisest head. Allemorte did

not have the wealth of experience that Evenor did, but he”d proved himself on several occasions

to have a cool head in battle and a superb eye for battle command. Borchard similarly. Malat had

been at formal war with no one during his long reign, but Borchard had taken part in several

campaigns in…

“Oh, gods,” Maximilian murmured. “Borchard served as Evenor”s lieutenant for a year,

didn”t he?”

“Yes, and you can be sure I was none too pleased about it then, or now. But Evenor

trained him well, and spoke highly of his capabilities.” Malat paused. “I think you can thank

your lucky stars, Maxel—”

Maximilian noted, somewhat numbly, that Malat was now using the familiar contraction

of his name.

“—that you are not a highly skilled battle general yourself, or otherwise I think you, too,

would be dead.”

Hardly the best compliment, Maximilian thought, but true enough.

“Why Ishbel?” Malat said. “What part does she have to play in this?”

“Ishbel is a mystery to most people, including me,” Maximilian said. “She was offered to

me by the Coil—”

“What?”

“—as their ward. They”d raised her after she lost her family at the age of eight.”

Maximilian hesitated, wondering how much he could say, then decided he was tired of

dissembling. Besides, Malat had lost a son, and deserved to hear as much as Maximilian could

reveal. “But I think she might actually be a priestess of the Coil, not just a ward.”

Malat swore, his face shocked. “Why send her to marry you?”

Maximilian phrased the response as best he could. It might not be the full truth, but it was

still truth enough. “Our families were connected many years ago. The Coil apparently thought it

would be a good thing to reunite blood and fortunes again.” He gave a wry grin. “I was happy

enough about the fortunes.”

Malat ignored the poor attempt at humor. “By the gods, Maximilian, what have you been

dragging through the Central Kingdoms? A priestess of the Coil? A—”

“I do not know if she is or not. Ishbel denies it, but I suspect it.”

“Maximilian, my son died with a sword through his belly…are you trying to tell me now

that he died, in that manner, with a priestess of the Coil close by, and that Ishbel was not

involved?”

Maximilian now regretted telling Malat of his suspicions.

“I suspected her,” Maximilian said, wishing he need not say this also, “and all but blamed

her. I was a fool. When I woke to see her seized by brigands, when I saw her face as they

threatened her life, I knew I”d been wrong. She was terrified, Malat. Genuinely terrified. I think

she is as much a victim as—”

“No priestess of the Coil is a victim of anything.”

Maximilian did not respond. There was nothing he could say to that.