He shook his head. “StarDrifter is with Salome. There”s just the two of them.”
“No midwife?”
Another shake of Axis” head. “Salome needs no midwife. StarDrifter is all she needs, to
sing out my brother.”
A shiver ran down Inardle”s spine. “You can sense what is happening?”
“Yes.”
“And the birth is going well?”
“My brother is being born, yes. It is going well enough.”
He was very much on edge, and Inardle wondered about it. “You”ve had brothers
before.”
He glanced at her then, very cool, and Inardle thought she might have gone too far.
“Two brothers,” he said. “Borneheld and Gorgrael. Both of them brought their worlds,
and mine, to ruin.”
“I am sure this new brother will not—”
“Who knows what any of StarDrifter”s sons will bring.”
“Axis, what”s wrong? Do you want me to leave?”
“No. I do not want you to leave, Inardle.” He sighed, stretching out his legs. “I have been
StarDrifter”s only son, only reputable son for so long that perhaps I now find it hard to accept he has another.”
It was a glib enough statement, and Inardle accepted it only because it was obvious that
Axis did not want to elaborate on how he really felt.
She settled back in her chair as well.
Two or three hours passed.
It was close to dawn when Inardle woke with a start. She was stiff and sore from having
slept in the chair, and for a moment was disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings.
Then she realized Axis was standing in the middle of the chamber, looking toward the
door which led to the internal corridor.
It opened, and StarDrifter and Salome entered.
StarDrifter was carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle.
Inardle sat up warily in the chair. She was certain that whatever scene was to follow she
should not be here, and glanced at the balcony door.
Don’t, Axis whispered in her mind. Stay. Don’t fall.
“Very well,” Inardle murmured. She thought about standing, then decided that sitting
unobtrusively in the chair was probably the best she could manage under the circumstances.
StarDrifter and Salome, who by now had advanced to where Axis stood, ignored her
completely.
“Look,” StarDrifter said softly, and held out the baby to Axis.
Axis hesitated, then took the child, balancing StarDancer in his arms before singing him a
snatch of melody.
Inardle looked at Salome. She, like StarDrifter, was gazing at the child. She looked very
weary, but also happy, and leaned in against StarDrifter as if he were the center of her world.
It brought sudden tears to Inardle”s eyes, and she had to look down and brush them away.
“StarDancer,” Axis said, then he turned around, held the baby out, and said, “Inardle?”
Inardle stared, unable to believe he would do this. She rose, managed to walk over, and
took the child into her arms.
“You”ve not held a baby before,” StarDrifter said.
“Not one as important as this,” said Inardle, although StarDrifter was correct enough. She
was terrified she was going to drop him and, worse, was unsettled by the knowing look in the
boy”s eyes. She supposed he was pretty enough, for a baby, but those deep blue eyes, fixed on
hers…
Inardle—what secrets you hide!
It was StarDancer, and Inardle jerked, badly enough that Axis reached out and took the
baby from her.
He caught her eyes as he did so, and she saw empathy there.
Gods, she thought, he has no idea at all.
“He is a beautiful boy,” said Axis, handing him straight back to his father. “How joyous
you must be.”
That might have sounded better, thought Inardle, if Axis” voice had actually been
somewhat happy instead of wooden.
StarDrifter gave his son a cryptic smile, then he and Salome said a quiet good night and
left the chamber.
Neither Axis nor Inardle said anything for a long minute.
“So,” Inardle said finally, desperate for something to say, “you have a brother.”
“So,” said Axis, turning away from her and walking over to the chair where was draped
his jacket, “I have a brother.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Serpent’s Nest
Ishbel sat in the room that had been hers as archpriestess. It was dawn outside now, the
light filtering through the shuttered windows, and Ishbel was cold and stiff from having sat
virtually unmoving for eight or nine hours.
She had not slept in all that time.
Instead she had been remembering—her life as archpriestess, as a novice, and as the girl
before Aziel had rescued her and brought her to Serpent”s Nest. She remembered how the
Serpent god had exhorted her to leave the mountain to marry an unknown and meaningless king
on the other side of the continent, and how she had railed against that fate.
She remembered how she had clung to the promise that one day she would return home.
And here she was.
This room had been everything to Ishbel for all her years as archpriestess. Within its
walls she had found peace and security, and forgetfulness from the horrors of her childhood.
When she had left to go to Maximilian, Ishbel had visualized herself coming back to this room,
over and over, flinging open the door and sinking down to the bed to bury her face in her beloved
old pillow, finding peace and security once more.
To come home.
She had wanted to come home so much.
Ishbel had assumed that she would feel something when she reentered the room. Not the
incandescent joy she”d once thought, but perhaps some lingering sweetness.
But there had been nothing.
The room had been a stranger to her. It was empty of everything—memories, emotion,
meaning. Ishbel had lived over twelve years within this room, but she could barely remember
any of it.
Everything had changed.
She became aware that it was a new day. Very slowly Ishbel rose from the chair, pausing
now and again as a muscle twinged or a tendon creaked.
I am getting old, she thought, and was then consumed with sadness at that realization. Not
so old, surely, not yet.
She walked to the twin windows, folding back the shutters and closing her eyes for a long
moment to enjoy the flood of new-day sunlight on her face. Then, still at the windows, she
looked to the west.
There was nothing on the horizon, but surely Armat couldn”t be far away.
Armat and Ravenna.
Turning away from the window, Ishbel walked to a mirror hung on the opposite wall. Her
hair had been neatly coiled about her head when she”d sat down, but at some point during the
night the pins had loosened, and now hair hung in some disarray about her face. She smoothed
the hair away, studying the new lines around her eyes and mouth.
Lines of strain, and experience, and pain and love.
Tears flooded her eyes, and she rubbed them away, then suddenly pulled all the pins from
her hair and shook her head, the hair tumbling down around her shoulders and back.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her head so that the
brightening sunlight illumed the crown of her head, then carefully parted the hair.
When she”d been archpriestess, Ishbel had done this several times a week at dawn. It had
been a comfort to her, and a pride, and a reassurance.
It was not something she”d done at all since she”d left Serpent”s Nest to marry
Maximilian, and most certainly not whenever she”d been living with him as his wife.
She”d always been most careful about brushing her hair in Maximilian”s presence.
Now she studied her scalp, frowning into the mirror, fingers parting the hair this way and
that.
It was gone.
When Ishbel had been inducted into the Coil as a priestess, she had been marked with the
sign of the Serpent: a coiled serpent rising to strike. But because the Great Serpent had told Aziel
that one day Ishbel would be required to leave Serpent”s Nest and live among ordinary people,
they had marked her carefully so that the mark would not be observable.
When she was fifteen, Aziel had shaved Ishbel”s head, and marked her entire scalp with
the sign of the serpent.
Then her hair had gradually grown back, hiding the mark, although Ishbel could always
see it when she”d parted her hair and looked.
But now it was gone. Faded away, just as the mark of the Manteceros had faded from
Maximilian”s biceps.
It was gone, and she was glad.
It was time to move on. The mark had gone, her former life was gone, and everything it
had ever meant to her was gone.
There was only one place that was home now.
Rearranging her hair into a loose plait over one shoulder, Ishbel straightened her gown,
then left the room, closing the door behind her.
She did not once look back as she walked down the corridor.
Ishbel went to the chamber Madarin had found for her, washed, dressed carefully in a