Zeboath asked if he might examine her, to check the health of the baby. Ishbel did not mind, for
she did not resent Zeboath as she had Garth Baxtor, and she had herself become increasingly
worried about the child.
Zeboath spent some minutes feeling the child through the walls of Ishbel”s womb, and sat
back, his face clouded.
“Zeboath,” Ishbel said, “what is wrong?”
“The baby…” Zeboath fiddled with his robe, buying time to think.
“What about the baby?” Ishbel said, too sharply.
“The child has not grown as much as I would have expected in the past two weeks, and
responded only languidly to my probing. But perhaps that is just the heat, and perhaps the child
will add more weight closer to the time of birth. Each pregnancy is different, and each child
grows at a slightly different rate, and I do not want you to worry too much.”
That was a foolish statement, Ishbel thought. No woman wants a physician, his face all
wrapped in anxiety, to say the baby is not growing as it should and then tell her not to fret. She
could not pretend to herself that she wanted this baby, and that she did not resent its intrusion
into her life and the changes it made to her body, but Ishbel did not wish the baby harm,
particularly knowing how much Maximilian wanted the child. She could not fail him in this.
But then, everything associated with her and Maximilian seemed destined for failure, and
so perhaps she should not be surprised if this baby, too, failed.
Even that thought did nothing to ease Ishbel”s concerns. When Zeboath had gone, she sat
for hours by the window, her hand on her belly, trying to will her baby into life.
On the fourth morning after her arrival, Isaiah sent word that Ishbel should prepare
herself for a short excursion.
My test, she thought, to see if I am fit to hear the legend of the Lord of Elcho Falling,
and felt both nervousness at what Isaiah might have in store for her and a warm delight at the
thought of spending some more time in his company. She didn”t know what to make of him, and
she did not like his plans to invade the north, but the bond she”d felt when she”d looked into his
eyes atop Serpent”s Nest was still there, and it was too strong to ignore.
Isaiah arrived to collect her himself, walking her down to the courtyard, where waited his
horse and a litter for her. His easy manner calmed some of Ishbel”s nerves.
“Where do we go?” she asked as he aided her into the seat and bearers stepped forward to
lift the litter to their shoulders.
“To a place called DarkGlass Mountain,” Isaiah replied, and turned away to mount his
horse.
At that, all of Ishbel”s nerves returned. “Axis is not coming?” she said.
“No. I have sent him out with a patrol to the east. There are bandits menacing a village,
and they need to be dealt with.”
They accomplished the journey to DarkGlass Mountain in silence. Isaiah led the way on
his horse, Ishbel”s litter following and, after that, a squad of armed soldiers who fell into convoy
as they left the courtyard. Ishbel”s bearers carried her across the river without dampening her
with a single drop of water, then along the river road and the processional way approaching
Dark-Glass Mountain, with smooth, well-practiced movements.
Ishbel should have been distracted from her worry about her baby, for the scenery was
lovely, and the day warm rather than hot, cooled by a gentle, scented breeze. The closer her
litter-bearers carried her to DarkGlass Mountain, however, the more apprehensive she became.
She knew that Axis did not like the place, thinking it the source of the ancient evil to which the
Serpent God had referred, but Ishbel had not yet had any cause to think too deeply on the
pyramid.
There had been other things to occupy her mind.
But now, as they drew close, and even semireclined in the litter as she was—she had to
crane her neck to gaze at the top of it—she felt a great sense of dread.
Images began to flash intermittently in her mind, of men being turned to stone, of spears
of blue-green glass flying through the air to impale lovers, of loss so extreme that it became a
reason for dying all in itself.
Of an entity, vile beyond comprehension, who lusted for life and warmth and
revenge…revenge above anything else…
“Isaiah,” she whispered as they drew to within fifty paces of the pyramid. Remarkably,
he heard her, and turned his horse back.
“This will not be pleasant,” he said, “but it will be good for you.”
Ishbel doubted that very, very much.
She found it difficult to command her legs to swing over the side of the litter so she could
stand up. Isaiah held out his hand, hesitated momentarily, then reached into the litter and helped
her out.
“Do this for me, Ishbel, please,” he murmured, and Ishbel gave a single, terse nod.
She wished she were anywhere else but here.
Isaiah led her to a small doorway set into the northern face of the pyramid. They stopped
just outside, and Isaiah took her hand.
“Ishbel, listen to me. DarkGlass Mountain can do many things to you, but it cannot harm
you. It cannot do that. It may wish to, quite desperately, but it cannot harm you. I am here with
you, and I will protect you from any other dangers that may lurk.”
Ishbel stared into the doorway, seeing what appeared to be a tunnel made of fused black
glass stretching away into darkness. “I”ve changed my mind, Isaiah. I don”t want to go in.”
His grip on her hand tightened—comfortingly, rather than in any effort to further
persuade her. “Ishbel, there is something inside I need you to see. I think you might be able to
understand it where I can”t. I—”
“If you are not strong enough, then how can I be?”
“Ishbel, you are so strong, and you have more understanding than I shall ever have.” He
paused. “Ishbel, you say that whenever you think of the Lord of Elcho Falling you feel
overwhelming sadness and loss. What if I tell you that if you help me in this, then perhaps we
can both avoid that sadness and loss.”
She almost hated him then. “You have no idea what I have been through already, as a
child, when—”
“I know what happened to you when you were eight, Ishbel. I know exactly what
happened to you, while you live wrapped in false memories that have warped your understanding
and your very being. Perhaps we will talk about this later. For now, Ishbel, I am begging you to
come into this pyramid with me.”
Ishbel stared at him. He knew what had happened to her when she was eight?
“Very well,” she said, agreeing not so much because of anything Isaiah had said, but for
the pleading in his eyes.
He smiled slightly, and nodded at her, then led her inside DarkGlass Mountain.
She could feel its hatred of her the moment she set foot to glass.
DarkGlass Mountain loathed her; she felt it running up her legs and her spine every time
she moved forward a pace.
Isaiah kept a firm grip on her hand, and she kept very close to him, walking in the
shadow of his warmth, and that gave her the fortitude to endure the visions that DarkGlass
Mountain threw at her.
The visions she”d encountered on the way to the pyramid were as nothing compared to
these.
She saw entire populations slaughtered, and other populations living in thrall to
DarkGlass Mountain. She saw men and women and babies turned to stone, and then rise and
walk, their souls weeping inside their shambling stone coffins.
She turned a corner, moving into another corridor within DarkGlass Mountain, and she
saw her father, standing ten or twelve paces away, holding out his hand imploringly and calling
her name as his flesh marbled into stone in a tide of death that swept up his legs and through his
body.
Ishbel cried out, stumbling closer to Isaiah.
“That is not your father,” he murmured to her. “That was Tirzah”s father. Come now, not
much farther.”
I can do that to everyone you love, Ishbel. Everyone.
Ishbel moaned.
“An idle threat for the moment, Ishbel,” Isaiah murmured. “He has not the strength for it.
He relies on nightmares rather than actions. Come now, you are stronger than this. Be brave for
me, Ishbel.”
She nodded, straightened her back, and walked on.
He brought her, eventually, to a chamber of exquisite beauty. The hatred here was muted,
and Ishbel allowed herself to relax, just a fraction, but enough to feel as if she could breathe
again.
Isaiah gave her a smile, and squeezed her hand.
“Thank you,” he said, and Ishbel was suddenly very glad she had managed to come this