Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

“And can you imagine what will happen if Maximilian arrives down there?” Lister said,

hands flung wide apart in an extravagant gesture. “Gods…gods, what game is Isaiah playing?”

He paused. “My friends, I need one of you to go to Aqhat for me. A small, but

pleasurable task.”

“Any of us,” said Inardle. “I will go.”

“Not you,” Lister, Eleanon, and Bingaleal said as one.

“I will go,” said Bingaleal. “I am stronger and more experienced.”

Lister gave a nod. “I don”t want to lose you, Bingaleal. Be careful.”

“Most certainly,” said Bingaleal. “What is it you wish me to do?”

“I need you to assassinate Isaiah.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

Ishbel. Every evening I go to the River Lhyl to bathe. Will you join me on this

occasion?” Isaiah gave a small smile. “I have a legend to relate to you.”

Ishbel looked at Isaiah standing in the door of her chamber, a bevy of servants and

attendants standing behind him carrying towels and unguents and perfumes and whatever else it

might be that a tyrant needed for his evening ablutions. He looked so calm, so normal, it was

strange to think that earlier today they”d been standing amid the malevolent darkness of

Dark-Glass Mountain.

Ishbel stood a moment, thinking, then decided that there was nothing to decide.

“Yes,” she said, “I”ll just fetch—”

“I have everything you need,” Isaiah said very quietly.

Ishbel went very still for a moment; then she simply nodded, and took Isaiah”s proffered

arm.

Isaiah led her to a stone-paved area on the riverbank that was screened by reeds and a

silken pavilion. The area was so enclosed that not only did it offer its occupants complete

privacy, but also screened them from the outside world. Once Ishbel stepped into this area and

Isaiah waved away all the attendants after they had deposited their loads, she felt as if she were

enclosed in an entire world. She could see nothing of Aqhat, nor of DarkGlass Mountain (for

which she was most grateful), and could hear only the gentle murmuring of the river, the breeze

as it filtered through the reed banks, and the opening notes of the dusk chorus of the frogs. A

lamp set to one side sent out muted scarves of light that wove their soft way about the reeds and

water.

The stone platform sloped down to the water, where, just visible under the rippling water,

it descended further in a series of broad steps.

“This is a special place to me,” Isaiah said, picking up some towels from a pile and

scattering them on the dry stone just above the river”s edge. “The river is the land”s lifeblood, its very soul.”

“I know how special this must be to you, Isaiah,” she said. “It is beautiful. So serene.”

He gave her a soft smile at that. “Yes. Now, come, bathe.”

He stripped off his linen hipwrap, kicked off his sandals, and stepped into the water,

sitting down on one of the submerged steps so that the water came to his waist. He had a floating

jar of soap with him, and he tipped some out and lathered up his face, chest, and arms.

Ishbel hesitated, then discarded her own robe and sandals, shook out her long hair, and

joined Isaiah on the submerged step. She did not mind her nakedness with him, but hated her

distended body—feeling a wash of guilt for that dislike—and breathed a sigh of relief as she

sank into the warm water. The stone step was very smooth and, as the water took much of her

weight, Ishbel relaxed, feeling more comfortable than she had in many days.

Isaiah pushed the floating dish of soap toward her. “Tell me what happened when you

were a child, Ishbel.”

Ishbel had reached for the dish of soap, but stilled as Isaiah spoke. “You said you knew

what happened.”

“Yes, but I would like to hear what you think happened. Somehow, I think that my

understanding and yours differ markedly.”

Ishbel soaped up her hands, then rubbed them slowly up and down her upper arms—not

so much washing as forming a protective barrier between her and the outside world.

“When I was eight a plague came suddenly to my parents” house,” she said, not looking

at Isaiah, who had finished washing and was now leaning back on the steps, watching her.

“Everyone within the house, the extended family and all servants, died within a day and a night.

Everyone save me. Does that marry with your understanding, then?”

“Yes. That marries with my understanding. Go on.”

“The city folk would not allow me to escape, fearing that I might carry the plague out

into their number, so they blocked all doors and windows and remained outside, waiting for me

to die so they could burn down the house. Does that marry with your understanding, Isaiah of

Isembaard?”

“Not quite. Here is where I think our tales might begin to diverge. But continue, Ishbel,

please.”

“I wanted to die. You can hardly imagine what it was like in that house, Isaiah…or are

you about to tell me that you can—”

“No,” he said, very quietly, “I cannot even begin to imagine what it was like for you. I

can only try to understand. Ishbel, continue, please.”

Ishbel dashed a tear from her eye, wincing a little as the soap stung.

“I tried to die. I rolled in the pus draining from my mother”s body. I…” Ishbel had to stop

and take a deep breath. “Then, one day…oh gods…my mother”s corpse began to speak to me,

and then the corpses of everyone else in the—”

“Stop, Ishbel. This is where I cannot allow you to continue. You have lived with this

horror all these years, and it has turned you in upon yourself as you shut out the world. But it is a lie. Their bodies did not—”

She rounded on him, distraught. “How can you say that! You were not there! You can

have no idea what—”

“Ishbel—”

“—happened to me! How can you tell me that—”

“It was not the bodies of your parents and loved ones who spoke to you, Ishbel. It was

their jewelry.”

She froze, staring at him.

“That is why,” he said, so softly, “you have spent your subsequent life avoiding jewelry

of any kind and why, most particularly, you do not wear Maximilian Persimius” ring.”

She remained silent, still staring at him, stricken.

Isaiah pushed himself over to her, ignoring her start as he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Duck your head underwater a moment,” he said, “and wet your hair. Then, as I wash it for you,

I shall tell you the tale of Elcho Falling, of DarkGlass Mountain, and how both of these connect

with your family. Hold your breath a moment…ah, good, now push me that dish of soap.”

Ishbel could hardly breathe as his strong fingers began, very slowly, to massage soap into

her scalp.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice soothing and rhythmical, “as I tell you the tale of Elcho

Falling. It begins with a man named Avaldamon who lived in the Northern Kingdoms.

Avaldamon was the younger brother of a man named Fledge. Fledge was an extraordinary man,

a powerful mage, and he was also the Lord of Elcho Falling.”

Isaiah felt Ishbel tense a little, but he continued on, his voice calm and soothing.

“But this is the tale of Avaldamon, not of Fledge. Avaldamon was also a powerful mage,

although he could not match the power of his brother. He, as Fledge, were Elementals.

Elementals, my love, are those who can hear the elements that comprise glass and metals and

gems.”

“Oh,” Ishbel murmured, and she felt Isaiah lean forward very slightly, just enough to kiss

the top of her head.

“And, yes, Ishbel,” he said, “you are an Elemental, too. Elementals can not only hear the

elements, they can often manipulate them. It was your family”s jewels that spoke to you, not

their corpses.

“Anyway, Avaldamon, a powerful Elemental mage, traveled very far south into this land,

then called Ashdod. He married a princess, but soon after their marriage he was killed by a great

water lizard. The princess gave birth to a son, Boaz, also a powerful Elemental mage, although

he denied it for many years. Boaz became one of the Magi who built Dark-Glass Mountain, and

it was Boaz who opened it into Infinity and created the burgeoning disaster we have now: when

Boaz opened DarkGlass Mountain to Infinity, then so was the crack opened to Kanubai, who you

saw earlier.

“But Boaz was also the one who eventually managed to quell the pyramid”s power, and

to have it dismantled. Boaz loved a woman called Tirzah, once a slave who had aided in the

construction of that beautiful golden chamber we stood in earlier. Like Boaz, Tirzah was a

powerful Elemental. It was she who carved the Goblet of the Frogs, and it was she who