Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

The situation among the Central Kingdoms was now critically grave. In Deepend,

Maximilian had heard news of the wars raging between the Outlands, Hosea, and Pelemere.

Kyros was being attacked, too, although by whom Maximilian did not know. There had been

several major battles, two outside Hosea, one outside Pelemere, and thousands of men had perished.

A nightmare was engulfing the Central Kingdoms, and Maximilian prayed it did not

reach Escator.

He wished, suddenly, he had brought the crown of Elcho Falling with him.

What if someone else laid hand to it? If Ruen was attacked, and fell to invaders, then the

crown might well be lost.

On the day that the Icarii had scouted the foothills of the FarReach Mountains, seeking a

passage through for those on horse, Venetia came to speak quietly to Maximilian at the evening”s

campfire.

“Maximilian,” she said, “I know you have little cause to trust me, for you barely yet

know me, but I have something strange to ask of you.”

“What?” he said.

“That we wait here a week,” she said. “There is someone coming behind us, a sad

woman, and ill, who needs to catch us. We need her. I cannot say why.”

“Who is she?”

Venetia hesitated. “She is this Salome, who StarDrifter has injured so greatly.”

“She is behind us?”

“A week away.”

This did not surprise Maximilian. It reinforced his sense that somehow everyone was

being drawn together.

Salome was needed. Nonetheless…“A week is a long time, Venetia.”

“That is how long it will take her to reach us. I”m sorry. Maxel, it is important she reach

us. I know how badly you need to push ahead, but…perhaps BroadWing and his companions can

use the time to scout a passage for us through the FarReach Mountains, and give them some time

also to rest, as they have been doing so much work on your behalf, and—”

“Very well,” Maximilian sighed. “Another mouth to feed, then.” He gave a slight smile.

“Look at what my realm has been reduced to, Venetia. A motley gathering of marsh women,

reformed assassins, and crippled Icarii. Who would want to be king of this lot, eh?”

CHAPTER FIVE

At the Foot of the FarReach Mountains

What do you think it is, Maxel?”

Ravenna sat down by him as he sprawled on his sleeping roll by the fire, the Weeper

lying just before him, one of his hands resting lightly on it.

Maximilian gave a slight shrug. “I am not sure.” He trusted Ravenna, but he did not wish

to speak to her of Elcho Falling. Not yet.

“Aha, an evasive answer.”

He smiled a little, and Ravenna took the opportunity to put a hand on his shoulder and

lean over for a closer look. “May I touch it, Maxel?”

He was very conscious of her touch and wondered what to make of it. “Yes, of course.”

The pressure of her hand lifted as she moved it to the Weeper, gently stroking it several

times.

“What did you feel?” said Maximilian.

“Nothing save cool metal. What do you feel from it, Maxel?”

How to answer that?

“Contentment, mostly.”

“Really?” she said. “How strange. I feel a slight irritation from it, as if it does not like

me.”

She leaned back from him then, watching him carefully. “I had imagined this wait would

chafe at you.”

“It does. Still…”

“Still?”

“Still, I would prefer this woman Salome to be among my party, and not haunting my

back. She does not sound like a woman to cross.” He sighed. “But I wish we could move. I spend

these idle hours wondering about Ishbel, wondering if she is well, wondering where she is…”

“Maxel, what can I do to help?”

Maximilian felt a rush of affection for Ravenna. He took her hand, and kissed it softly.

“Thank you for asking, Ravenna. Tell me, if you will, that I am not in the habit of ruining

everyone”s lives.”

“You have not in the least ruined my life,” she said, very softly, “and I am sure everyone

here would say the same. None of us were forced to join you. All of us would lose our right arms

rather than lose you.”

He gripped her hand tightly, then let it go. “I worry so much about Ishbel—this man who

has taken her…why? Is he taking care of her, and the child? What if—”

“Maxel, stop. I have not met Ishbel but she sounds like a strong woman.”

“She is lost, and very afraid.”

“As you are lost, and very afraid.”

Maximilian gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Maxel…would you like me to stay with you tonight?”

For a moment Maximilian did not quite understand what she was saying. Where would

she go other than staying in this miserable campsite?

Then the meaning of her words hit home, and, gods help him, he reddened.

She gave a soft laugh, then briefly touched his cheek with one finger. “I do hope, Maxel,

that Ishbel is as true to you as you are to her. I do hope she deserves you.”

“You should have offered when you rescued me from beyond the hanging wall, Ravenna.

I would have accepted gladly then.”

“Ah,” she said, “but then I was young and foolish, and the Lord of Dreams filled my

vision. I have come to regret that decision very greatly, Maximilian Persimius.”

And with that she rose, and joined her mother sitting at a fire shared with Serge and

Doyle.

Venetia had watched the exchange between her daughter and Maximilian from the

moment Ravenna had sat down with him. She”d seen the hand on the shoulder, the hair left to

brush casually against his face, the brief swell of breast against her robe as Ravenna adjusted her

position now and again.

It disturbed Venetia, although she could not for the moment pinpoint why. No marsh

woman was particularly monogamous, and they were not renowned for respecting it in others.

But Maximilian…there was trouble there, Venetia could sense it.

Still, when Ravenna rejoined her, Venetia said nothing, and the two women spent a

companionable hour combing out each other”s hair.

Her silence was something, much later, that Venetia would come to regret.

CHAPTER SIX

Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

After that first, extraordinary day, Ishbel saw little of Isaiah for the next four. She spent

the time with Axis and with Zeboath, and sometimes walking about the courtyard. She was

escorted at all times by several of Isaiah”s spearmen who managed, remarkably, never to

intimidate her or make her feel as if her every step was being scrutinized, and the soldier

Madarin often accompanied her also, a reassuring presence in the background.

On one of her walks in the courtyard, Ishbel glimpsed Isaiah in a shaded arcade some

thirty paces distant, talking with two men. They appeared to be either arguing, or on the verge of

it—the two men had assumed such threatening stances that it astounded her.

She turned to Axis, who walked with her on this occasion, and asked him who the men

were.

“They are two of his generals,” Axis said. “Kezial and Morfah. Very senior men.”

One of the generals raised a finger and stabbed it several times at Isaiah, making a point,

and Ishbel and Axis could hear the aggression in his raised voice.

“I had not thought Isaiah would allow such disrespect from anyone,” Ishbel said.

“But…he said something the other night, when we were alone, that makes me think Isaiah is

vulnerable to his generals.”

“Indeed, and may I compliment you on squeezing information out of Isaiah faster than

anyone else I know.”

Axis meant that as an invitation for Ishbel to speak further, for he was still curious about

the underlying communication between them on the night they”d dined.

But Ishbel declined the invitation. “Tell me about the generals, Axis.”

“I told you that the Tyrant of Isembaard relies on conquest to keep his generals—his

entire tyranny—in line?”

“Yes. You mentioned it to me one evening on our journey down the Lhyl.”

“There is always a general lurking in a tyrant”s shadow, waiting for that chance to strike.

The less successful a tyrant is at conquest, the more likely it is one of his generals will move

against him. That man talking now is Morfah, the second most senior of the generals.”

“And the other, Kezial, is the most senior?”

Axis shook his head. “No. Ezekiel is the senior general. Thus far he has been loyal to

Isaiah, and that has helped to keep the younger generals in line. Isaiah needs a successful

invasion of the north and he needs it badly. Ishbel, however you plead with Isaiah, he will not

stop an invasion, not on your account.”

“He is a strange man,” Ishbel said softly.

Axis studied Ishbel carefully, wondering at her tone, and wondering again what had been

going on between Isaiah and Ishbel.

“Yes,” he responded, “Isaiah is a strange man indeed.”

Later that day Zeboath spent some time with Ishbel. They chatted for a while, then