Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

Isaiah turned slightly, gesturing to Ishbel to join him.

She rose, hesitated slightly as she got to her feet, then regained her composure and

walked forward to Isaiah.

Axis leaned forward in concern. Ishbel did not look well at all.

Isaiah”s eyes crinkled at Ishbel a little—Axis was relieved to see he was laughing at

himself—then took her hand, presenting her to the throng.

It was right at that moment that the bowman rose from the center of the gigantic lily

flower at the top of the nearest column, and fired the arrow into Isaiah”s chest.

A second”s worth of horror, then Axis moved. He lunged forward, grabbing Isaiah by the

arm and pulling him to one side.

He wasn”t fast enough. Just as he grabbed Isaiah”s arm, the arrow thudded into Isaiah”s

chest.

The force of the impact sent Isaiah sprawling, knocking Ishbel to the ground as well, and

the next moment the chamber was in an uproar.

Axis stumbled, managed to gain his balance, then looked up at the top of the column.

The bowman was standing there in full view, and even from this distance Axis could see

the small smile of satisfaction on the man”s face.

But that wasn”t what shocked Axis.

What completely appalled him was that the bowman was an Icarii.

Bingaleal let the bow droop slowly to his hip as he stared into the eyes of the StarMan.

Greetings, Axis SunSoar, he thought, then allowed a small derisive smile to form.

Axis had looked away now, and was kneeling by Isaiah”s blood-covered form, lying

partly atop that of the sprawled woman, her face twisting in shock and perhaps some pain. Axis

was shouting for help, trying to staunch Isaiah”s bleeding while at the same time trying to take the woman”s hand, as if to comfort her.

Bingaleal didn”t care what Axis tried to do, for whatever it was, it was too late now.

Lister”s purpose had been served. He looked at the milling confusion, and at the generals striding

forth, waving forward spearmen and archers, calling for ropes so soldiers could scale the column,

ordering that should the birdman assassin lift off then he should be feathered out of the air w ith

several score of arrows.

As if I would fly out of here, Bingaleal thought. You have not seen my like, although

one day we hope to rule over you.

He allowed the bow to drop completely, and he sank to his knees in the great flower that

sat atop the column. Ignoring the frenetic activity below him, the spears that rattled every

moment or two against the column and occasionally flew in a deadly arc over his flower shelter,

Bingaleal curled into a tight ball, wrapping his wings about him entirely.

Within moments ice formed along the ridged outlines of his wings and body. Despite the

hot sun, it spread rapidly, so that by the time the soldiers had fetched their ropes and prepared to

mount the column, ice entirely encased Bingaleal.

As a noose of rope caught one of the petals, and the more daring among the soldiers

began the treacherous ascent of the column, the ice enshrouding Bingaleal”s body clouded over,

then became completely opaque.

Then the ice faded. Bingaleal”s body did not shrink, it merely disappeared slowly, until,

by the time the first of the soldiers had gripped the outer rim of the flower with his hands and

peered cautiously over, there was nothing left but a single tiny snowflake, rising into the

streaming sun and vanishing in a breath of air.

The palace was in an uproar, all attention centered on the sunroom, and so no one noticed

the thin, tattered figure that tottered into the palace complex from one of the river gates.

Ba”al”uz stopped long enough to drink a great draft from the fountain in the great

courtyard, then he made for the doorway that led into the private quarters of the palace. As he

drank, an ugly brindle dog crept to his heels, and then followed as Ba”al”uz completed his

journey across the courtyard.

When he entered the palace, Ba”al”uz and the dog went entirely unnoticed, encased as

they were in Kanubai”s power.

The activity and consternation in the palace meant that one other activity also went

unremarked. Atop DarkGlass Mountain, thin rivulets of blood had begun to flow down the glass

sides of the pyramid from under its gigantic golden capstone. They trailed to about halfway

down the pyramid, then, strangely, veered sideways so that, after some time, the rivu lets of blood

entirely enclosed the central portion of the pyramid.

Then they turned black, as if girding the pyramid”s waist in bands of iron.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

An Icarii? An Icarii? What the fuck have you done to me, Axis?”

“Isaiah—”

“I trusted you. I trusted you! And this is how you—”

“Isaiah, I am not to blame, I—”

“Don”t tell me that. I saw you talking with Ezekiel the other night. What were you

plotting, eh? I can”t imagine you wanted my throne. What then? Ishbel?”

“I had nothing to do with it, Isaiah!”

The two men glared at each other, bodies rigid with anger and shock, faces tight with

emotion, then Isaiah turned away, muttering an obscenity.

He”d known that Axis had nothing to do with the attempt on his life (and he was almost

certain who had ordered it), but Isaiah was angry, furious, and he”d needed someone at whom to

lash out.

His chest was still streaked with blood from his wound, which was now stitched and

daubed with antiseptic. He”d been lucky. The arrow had struck him square in the chest, but it had

hit a section where the golden collar draped down from his shoulders.

Although the arrow had penetrated the metal links, it had only superficially wounded

Isaiah.

Without the collar he would have been dead.

It almost did not matter. Aqhat was in crisis.

Such a brazen assassination attempt, in the middle of a Spectacle, with every

high-ranking witness Isembaard could produce, was a disaster for Isaiah. He relied on his image

of total strength and invulnerability to maintain control over the military and over the vast and

disparate elements of his empire.

To have an assassin penetrate into the very heart of his power, to have an assassin so

brazenly and so easily evade all security, utterly undermined Isaiah”s credibility.

Everything was made so much worse by the fact the assassin had not been caught. He had

simply…vanished.

Within moments armed men had hustled Isaiah, Ishbel, and Axis off the rooftop and

down into Isaiah”s private chambers via a back entrance, Isaiah having recovered enough from

the shock of the arrow strike in his chest to shout orders at his generals.

It was there, in Isaiah”s private quarters, as Zeboath stitched and cleaned his chest wound,

that Axis told him the assassin had been an Icarii bowman. Ishbel had since gone to her own

chamber to rest, and Isaiah had angrily pushed Zeboath aside, telling him to get out of the

chamber.

“I was not responsible,” Axis said.

“It was an Icarii,” Isaiah said, although his voice had lost much of its accusation. “One of

your people. Is that what you did when you went north to fetch Ishbel, eh? Make contact with the

Icarii? Suggest they might like to assassinate me?”

“If I”d wanted to assassinate you,” Axis snarled, “I would have done it privately and I

would have done it well.”

Isaiah stared at him, then his body subtly relaxed. It wasn”t much, but it was enough for

Axis to relax slightly, too.

“It wasn”t me, Isaiah,” Axis said.

Isaiah made a gesture with his hand, as if to wave away the fact he had accused Axis in

the first instance, then poured himself a goblet of wine, draining it in a couple of swallows.

“Why an Icarii?” he said, wondering what Axis would say. “Why would an Icarii hunt

me? Are they assassins for hire now?”

Axis hesitated.

“I”m not entirely sure it was an Icarii,” he said.

Ishbel had dismissed her attendants, and now sat in a chair, rubbing at her aching back.

She felt dreadful. She hadn”t been feeling well all day—nauseated, headachy, weak—but

all those troublesome irritants had magnified fivefold after Isaiah had fallen atop her in the

Spectacle Chamber. Her legs were now so wobbly they could scarcely hold her, and her head

throbbed as if the arrow had cracked her skull instead of Isaiah”s chest.

But, thank the gods, he was alive and relatively well. For a long, terrible moment

immediately after that arrow had struck Isaiah, Ishbel had thought he was dead.

She decided to rise and fetch herself some iced wine, but as soon as she moved she gave

a gasp as a band of fire encircled her body.

Her hands instinctively clutched at her belly, then she tried once more to rise in order to

walk the fifteen or so steps to the bellpull to summon aid.