“I didn”t go to Ishbel,” he said, keeping the Weeper under one arm as he stuffed a few
shirts that were draped over a chair into his pack. “I went to talk to Axis and Isaiah.”
“About?” Ravenna said.
“About matters we needed to discuss!” Maximilian snapped, throwing the pack over his
shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Ravenna said.
“I”m moving into my command tent. You and Venetia can keep this one. This camp is
moving onto a war footing and I don”t have time for—”
“Me?” Ravenna said.
Maximilian looked at her, very steadily, then allowed his eyes to drop deliberately slowly
to the Weeper. “For disloyalty, Ravenna.”
“It is Ishbel who—”
“It was not Ishbel who just tried to take the Weeper!” Maximilian moved toward the
door. “Serge and Doyle will be tending me. One of them will collect the rest of my belongings.”
He paused in the doorway, looked at Ravenna a moment, nodded at Venetia, and left.
“You pushed too hard,” Venetia said, “and assumed too much. He”s gone now.”
Ravenna shot her a dark look before sitting abruptly on the bed.
Axis slept for four or five hours before he rose, washed perfunctorily, and dressed.
It had been a little over twenty-four hours since Maximilian had declared himself as the
Lord of Elcho Falling to Isaiah”s army and the tattered remnants of Georgdi and Malat”s forces.
A great deal had happened since and Axis wanted to scout the camp to get a sense of what the
soldiers—and more particularly Isaiah”s generals—thought and were doing. Loyalties continued
to balance on a knife edge, and Axis needed to know which way they teetered.
The camp appeared fairly quiet, which reassured him. Men were going about the usual
business of soldiers in camp; there were no tight groups of whispering men, no furtive eyes
sliding away from Axis”, no glaring gaps in the tent lines where men had decamped through the
night.
He paused in amazement when he saw the blue tent with the pennant fluttering above it.
He recognized the symbolism instantly— Ishbel—and he also recognized the man standing
outside the entrance to the tent.
Madarin, the soldier Ishbel had healed of a twisted bowel when Axis had escorted Ishbel
south from the FarReach Mountains. That occasion had been when Axis had become very aware
that Ishbel had been far more than just a “ward” of the Coil.
“Madarin,” Axis said amiably, strolling over, “I see you have found new duties.”
“Lady Ishbel saved my life; it belongs to her. She called me to her service last night.”
Axis nodded at the tent. “Ishbel is inside?”
“Asleep, my lord.”
“I do not wish to disturb her, Madarin. Tell me, how does she?”
“Well, my lord.”
“Hmmm.” Axis stared at the tent again. “Where did this come from?”
Madarin explained how Isaiah carried a spare ceremonial tent with his military column.
“And the positioning of it?” Axis said. The tent was erected right at the edge of the main
encampment, close to the tents of Maximilian, StarDrifter, Isaiah, and most of the other senior
members of the army, as well as the large tent Isaiah—and now Maximilian—used for command
briefings and meals. Yet Ishbel”s tent was set slightly apart. Not much, but just enough to lend
whoever inhabited it a certain eloquent and mysterious reserve…and command.
“I chose this location,” Madarin said.
“Then you have done well for your lady,” Axis said. “The pennant?”
“I stitched it for the lady myself,” Madarin said.
Axis opened his mouth to comment, saw Madarin”s face, and decided it better to leave
doing so. He gave the soldier a nod of farewell.
As he moved through the encampment Axis paused and spoke briefly to several men,
stopping to have a longer conversation with Insharah, the man with whom he”d ridden north
from Aqhat to collect Ishbel. Insharah was now a senior commander within the Isembaardian
force, having proved himself over this past year more than capable of promotion. He was still a
good friend of Axis”, however, and as such he was Axis” best conduit back into the heart and
soul of the Isembaardian force.
“Tell me the mood,” Axis said, once they had exchanged greetings.
“One of shock,” Insharah said. “First this Maximilian, who had spent so many weeks
trailing along with the column as a captured king, declaring himself lord of this or that and taking
control of the army from Isaiah. Maximilian is a complete unknown, and what we”d seen of
Isaiah had not suggested to us that he would just hand control of the entire army to Maximilian.
No one quite knows what to make of it, Axis, or what to think.
“But worse was the news that Isembaard has been overrun by some army of…wraiths.
Everyone is concerned about their families. Myself included.”
Insharah paused to give Axis a sharp look. Insharah had a wife and children in Aqhat, just
across the River Lhyl from DarkGlass Mountain where, apparently, this ghostly army gathered.
“I can give you no assurances,” Axis said, “save this small hope. The Skraelings loathe
water. It will take them days, if not weeks, to summon the courage to cross the Lhyl. I hope that
will give people enough time to evacuate.”
“Evacuate where?”
“Either up through the Salamaan Pass or down south, to the Eastern Independencies.”
Insharah shook his head slightly. “If this Maximilian wants our loyalty, Axis, then he
shall need to assure us that our families are safe. If we don’t get that assurance, I cannot answer for how many men might decide to aid their families themselves.”
Axis nodded, understanding. He rested a hand on Insharah”s shoulder, thanked him for
his honesty, and moved on. He walked down to the area where Isaiah”s generals had their tents.
There were the usual activities going on that he would have expected: some empty dishes being
carried out of Kezial”s tent, while Kezial”s body servant was busy washing his master”s linen in a
tub to one side of Kezial”s tent.
Axis moved toward Armat”s tent—the youngest general was, in Axis” opinion, the most
dangerous of them—when there came the sound of footsteps behind him. Axis turned about. It
was a soldier that he recognized as one of Insharah”s men, with a message that Axis was wanted
at one of the horse lines.
Axis strode off, missing the look of sheer relief that crossed the face of the guard outside
Armat”s tent.
An hour after Axis had risen, Ravenna slipped quietly through the flap of Maximilian”s
command tent.
If Maximilian wouldn”t, or couldn”t, repudiate Ishbel completely, then Ravenna needed
to know it—and be able to plan from there. As in taking Maximilian into the Land of Dreams to
show him the vision which haunted her, Ravenna knew she was likely pushing too hard, but she
needed to do this badly enough to risk the consequences.
Maximilian was asleep on a camp bed. Serge, one of the two Emerald Guardsmen who
had accompanied Maximilian on his journey from Escator into Isembaard, rose from the stool
where he”d been sitting by the brazier. Ravenna nodded toward the door.
Serge hesitated, then left.
She let out a small sigh. She still had enough influence for that, at least.
Ravenna pulled a chair over to where Maximilian continued to lie sleeping, then put a
hand on his shoulder and shook gently.
“Ravenna?” Maximilian murmured, blinking sleepily and rising on one elbow.
“Why are you cutting me off, Maxel?”
Maximilian sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and
sighed. “Look, Ravenna—”
“What have I done wrong?” Ravenna knew as soon as the words were out that they were
ill-advised. She wished futilely she could snatch them back.
“Apart from trying overhard to run my life for me? Apart from trying to steal the Weeper,
probably in order to force me to your wishes?”
“Maxel, I know I shouldn”t have tried to take the Weeper, but—”
“Ravenna, at the moment I need to concentrate fully on gaining complete control of this
army. There are hundreds of thousands of men gathered about this tent, and as many in the
provinces behind us, all weaponed and ready for war, none of whom trust me. I don”t have
time—”
“For me?” Damn it! Now she was acting like a hysterical tavern wench abandoned by her
soldier lover.
“I don”t have time for your games, Ravenna.”
They stared at each other silently at that, and Ravenna wondered that such a distance
could have opened between them in such a short time.
It was Ishbel’s fault. “I see Ishbel has found herself a bright new home,” Ravenna said,
referring to the tent she”d seen on her way to Maximilian”s command tent. By the gods of
dreams, such ostentation! “Did you give her that?”
Maximilian had noticed the tent earlier when he”d gone out just before dawn. “No, I did
not procure that tent for Ishbel. But she has every right to it. She is a Persimius, and central to