Читать книгу The Serpent Bride - Sara Douglass - Страница 21

Isaiah, Tyrant of Isembaard, picked up the pyramid of glass, holding it in his hands as gingerly as if it contained the manner of his death. Then he raised his eyes and looked for a long moment into the shadowed depths of the chamber.

Axis sat there, hidden from the view of the pyramid. He had gained much in strength over the past days and was well enough to spend most of the day out of bed.

But he still didn’t trust Isaiah, and was still angry at him for dragging Axis out of death.

Isaiah could understand that and he hoped that after today he and Axis might be a little closer to friendship.

Axis returned Isaiah’s gaze, his face expressionless.

Isaiah studied the rose-tinged glass pyramid again.

“There are only a very few of these in existence,” Isaiah said quietly. “I have one.” He hefted it, as if Axis needed the visual reinforcement. “Ba’al’uz has one, and our ally has one. If there are more then I do not know of them.”

“Where did they come from!” said Axis. “I sense great power coming from the one you hold.”

“They were a gift from my ally, Lister. One for him, one for Ba’al’uz —”

“What did Ba’al’uz do to deserve such a gift?”

Isaiah shrugged, choosing not to answer that. “And one for me. They make communication easier than it might otherwise be.”

He paused, his attention now firmly on the glass pyramid in his hand. “I am going to speak to Lister now, my friend. It would be best for all concerned if you remained unobserved.”

There was no answering sound or movement from the shadows.

Isaiah settled the pyramid carefully into the palm of his left hand, took a deep breath, then placed his right hand about it.

A moment later the glass glowed through the gaps of his fingers. First pink, then red, then it flared suddenly a deep gold before muting back to a soft yellow.

Isaiah slid his right hand away from the pyramid. “Greetings, Lister,” he said.

While the glass pyramid still rested in Isaiah’s hand, its shape was now so indistinct as to be almost indistinguishable. An ascetic, lined face topped with thinning brown hair now looked back at Isaiah from deep within the glass.

Isaiah was careful not to even suggest a glance towards the shadows.

“I hope all goes well?” Isaiah said.

“The negotiations between Maximilian and Ishbel proceed,” Lister said. “Ishbel still does not like the idea of marriage, but intends to do as I, as we, wish, and Maximilian worries about the past rising to meet him. I hear he is stamping about his palace at Ruen in a right black temper. Maximilian and Ishbel are to meet in Pelemere, there to conduct a marriage if they find each other agreeable.”

“That is good. How go your ‘friends’?”

“My ‘friends’?”

Isaiah sighed, trying very hard not to look at Axis watching keenly from the far recesses of the room. “The Skraelings,” he said. “Are they massing?”

Axis made no sound, but from the corner of his eyes Isaiah saw him tense.

“Yes,” said Lister, “although still not in quantities enough to seethe south. Not this winter, but next, surely.”

“They pose no danger to you at Crowhurst?”

“I toss them scraps from my table, and speak kind words to them. They tolerate me. I do not think they will be a danger to me.”

“Be careful.”

In the pyramid Lister’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. “And what are you about, Isaiah?” Lister said. “How go your plans? Do you mass your army?”

“My forces accrue,” said Isaiah, “as do the stores I will need for the march north. In addition, I am sending Ba’al’uz beyond the FarReach Mountains within the fortnight. He will prepare the way for our invasion. I admit myself pleased at the thought of getting him out of the palace.”

“He could be more danger out of your sight than within it.”

Now it was Isaiah’s turn to shrug. “It is better, I think, to remove him from DarkGlass Mountain’s presence for the moment.”

Lister nodded. “We tread a dangerous dance here, Isaiah. Are you safe?”

Isaiah grunted. “From whom? My generals? I am never safe from them … but I will stay alive as long as it is needed, Lister. As must you.”

“I was not thinking of your generals.”

Isaiah did not respond.

Lister sighed. “Let me know when Ba’al’uz has departed.”

“I will.”

With that, the pyramid dulled, then resumed its usual rosy opaqueness.

“I cannot believe what I just heard!” Axis stalked out of the shadows, his gait not showing any signs of his former weakness. “You have allied with … with … with a Lord of the Skraelings?”

“Axis, I know that in your time you battled long and hard with the Skraelings, and with their then terrible lord, Gorgrael. But I have my —”

“I cannot believe this!” Axis slammed his hand down on the table, and Isaiah’s eyes slid towards the pyramid, grateful that Axis had not damaged it.

“What in the gods’ names do you want from me, Isaiah?”

“Your aid and your advice, Axis. Your friendship.”

“I lost tens of thousands of people to the Skraelings,” Axis hissed. “I have seen what they can do! What the fuck do you think I will do, ally myself with you and the Skraelings to invade —”

“You will calm down and you will listen to me!” Isaiah rose to his feet. He was taller than Axis by a handbreadth, and now he used that slight advantage to stare down at Axis, holding the man’s furious gaze with unwavering eyes. “Nothing is ever as it seems,” Isaiah said, more moderately now. “Nothing.”

He stepped away from Axis. “Wine?”

“Oh, for all the gods’ sakes …”

Isaiah ignored him, walking over to a table and pouring a large measure of wine into a goblet. He brought it back to Axis, holding out the goblet.

Axis did not want wine. He lifted a hand to brush the goblet away, then froze, staring at what Isaiah held.

It was a large amber glass goblet of the most exquisite beauty. Completely forgetting his anger, Axis reached out and took the goblet into his hands.

It was truly the most extraordinary goblet he had ever seen. A craftsman of astonishing talent — magical talent — had carved an outer wall, or cage, of frogs gambolling among reeds about the inner wall of amber glass. When he held it up to the light, careful not to spill the wine inside, the outer caged wall of frogs shone almost emerald, coming to life in the light; the frogs seemed alive, leaping away from the goblet’s inner amber wall as if they were about to take to life itself.

“Drink,” Isaiah said softly.

Axis lifted the goblet to his mouth, but just before the wine reached his lips, one of the frogs about the outer cage lifted a toe pad and gently touched Axis’ face.

Axis trembled so badly he almost dropped the goblet, and Isaiah had to reach out and take it from him.

“That is an object of great power,” Axis said hoarsely. He was rattled, not so much by the fact that the goblet was of a powerful magic, but of the manner of power it represented.

Compassion.

Axis looked at Isaiah, and saw in his black eyes, reflected for just a moment, that same compassion he’d felt from the goblet.

“I found it one day,” said Isaiah, somewhat diffidently. He took a draught of wine from the goblet. “Are you sure you want no wine?”

Axis shook his head. All his anger had vanished, and he was completely calm. He realised that this had been Isaiah’s intention when he’d handed him the goblet, but Isaiah had not actually used any power to pacify Axis.

Instead, Isaiah had used the goblet to show Axis his true nature.

Compassion.

“Trust me,” said Isaiah, and Axis nodded, still almost befuddled by what had just happened.

“Would you like me to tell you where I came from?” said Isaiah. “Where Isembaard came from?”

“Yes. Isembaard is such an unknown entity outside of its borders,” Axis said.

Isaiah walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a large rolled map, which he spread over the table.

Axis came over. The huge map showed the known world in detail, and Axis was stunned by the size of Isembaard. It was three times, at least, the size Tencendor had been.

Axis’ eyes drifted to the north-west of the map where Tencendor should have been.

There was nothing there save a broken line showing where once the coastline had been, and the chilling label: The Lost Land of Tencendor.

“As you can see,” Isaiah said, “my cartographers have produced a perfectly up-to-date map.”

Axis nodded, not trusting his voice.

Isaiah tapped a small city on the east coast of Isembaard. “The original Isembaard rose from this small eastern city of the same name — the Tyranny takes its name from the city that gave it birth. When Isembaard was still a small city and not the vast empire it is now, the tyrants of Isembaard depended almost entirely on warfare for their reputation, and for the means to feed their people.”

“How so?” said Axis. “Surely a state is the stronger the less it engages in war?”

“The city of Isembaard was small, surrounded by poor land,” said Isaiah. “How else was it to grow, and strengthen, if it did not accrue lands unto itself? Isembaard needed to expand in order to survive. It needed its leaders, its tyrants, to be successful and ambitious war leaders, in order that the needed land be accrued.”

“Ah,” said Axis. “So over time Isembaard ‘accrued’ all the nations I have seen on your maps? The ‘dependencies’? A city become an empire?”

“Yes,” said Isaiah. “Bit by bit. It has taken us centuries.”

Axis thought about the vast amount of territory within the Tyranny, and the different peoples contained therein. “It must be difficult,” he observed, “ruling such an immense area and peoples.”

“It is,” said Isaiah, and Axis thought he saw that fleeting shadow cross the tyrant’s face.

“Does the Tyrant of Isembaard still rely on the ancient methods of keeping people happy?” Axis asked. “Continual expansion? Warfare? Does your throne depend on victory in war, Isaiah?”

Isaiah turned his head to look at Axis fully. “You know the answer to that, Axis. Why else allow you to listen to my conversation with Lister?”

Axis looked back at the map. “You called Lister your ‘northern ally’,” he said, “and from my own experience I know Skraelings prefer ice and snow above all else.” He ran a hand slowly up the map, then tapped the area above Gershadi and Viland. “He’s up here. In the frozen northern wastes.”

Isaiah tilted his head in agreeance.

“And you want to invade ‘north’,” Axis said. He fell silent, concentrating on the map.

“By the stars, Isaiah,” Axis said eventually, “you have allied with Lister and the Skraelings with only one possible objective. The kingdoms above the FarReach Mountains: Pelemere, Kyros, Escator, perhaps even the Outlands. You intend to sandwich the Northern Kingdoms between you, yes? Two arms, two pincers, icy ghosts from the north, desert warriors from the south.”

“A sound strategy, surely,” Isaiah said.

“But such a risk,” said Axis. “Not merely relying on an alliance with Skraelings, for the stars’ sakes, but such a massive invasion into lands so far from your home.” Axis studied the map once more. “Frankly, I would have tried for something more achievable that didn’t necessitate a Skraeling alliance … the Eastern Independencies, for example.” He tapped the map down in its lower eastern corner. “I can’t think why you have not ‘accrued’ them already.”

Isaiah did not answer, and Axis looked at him curiously. “By the gods,” Axis said softly after a moment or two. “You have tried for the Eastern Independencies, haven’t you?”

“I campaigned against the Eastern Independencies in my second year on the throne,” Isaiah said. “The campaign proved to be … difficult.”

Stars! Axis thought, recalling Lister’s earlier remark about the generals. Isaiah was very uncertain of his throne. He had one military disaster behind him and he could not afford another — not with both a nation and some restless generals expecting a military victory resulting in the acquisition of yet more new territory.

“Why,” Axis asked, “were the Eastern Independencies so hard to —”

“That is not the issue now,” Isaiah said, his tone tight, and Axis knew this was not the time to push the point.

“So instead you ally with the Skraelings in the frozen northern wastes,” Axis said. “An interesting alliance.”

“It cannot fail,” Isaiah said. “The Central Kingdoms, the Outlands and their allies will not be able to resist us.”

Axis was trying hard to reconcile this Isaiah with the one who had handed him the Goblet of the Frogs. He realised, very suddenly, that there was no contradiction at all. Isaiah was a man genuinely unsuited to tyranny, which made him immensely vulnerable, which in its turn made him even more determined to win for himself a great military victory that resulted in the conquering of vast lands.

The only question in Axis’ mind was why Isaiah was so determined to cling to his throne. Axis thought that Isaiah was not one who needed the magnificence of throne and title and power of life and death over millions in order to bolster his self-esteem.

So why the need to ally with the Skraelings in order to achieve military victory? Why embark on a course which would result in the death of tens of thousands?

“I need a friend, here at court,” Isaiah said, his eyes watching Axis carefully as if he could understand the train of Axis’ thoughts. “I have none. No one I can trust.”

“If you want me to be your friend, then tell me why you want this invasion so badly. The real reason, Isaiah.”

Isaiah held his gaze for a long moment. “And so I will tell you,” he said, “when I am certain I can trust you.”

Axis laughed softly, shaking his head. “Why do I find it impossible to remain angry with you, Isaiah?”

“Will you be my friend, Axis?”

“I will not aid you to invade the Central Kingdoms. I will not, under any circumstances, condone any action that sees you ally with Skraelings.”

“Be my conscience then, if friendship is too difficult.”

Isaiah’s eyes twinkled, and Axis again shook his head in amusement. Isaiah was impossible to dislike.

“Your conscience, then,” Axis said.

“Good,” Isaiah said, taking Axis’ hand, and Axis sensed that Isaiah was truly relieved.

“Now,” said Isaiah, glancing at one of the windows, “it grows dark, and I fear I am late for an appointment with wife number fifty-nine. Can you find your way back to your apartment by yourself?”

Axis was struck firstly by the fact that at least Isaiah trusted him enough to allow him to wander the palace, and secondly to the casual mention of wife number fifty-nine.

“How many do you have?” Axis asked, aghast.

“Urn, eighty-four, I think.”

“So many?”

“I find myself displeased by a woman’s body when she is pregnant. So as my wives fall pregnant, I send them back to the women’s quarters and take to myself another wife. Also, many of the dependencies send me wives, hoping thus to garner my favour.”

“And you love none of them.” It was not a question.

“They are meaningless to me, Axis. I do not have an Azhure in my life.”

The sudden mention of his wife upset Axis more than he’d thought possible. He was shocked to find his eyes filling with tears as a terrible ache consumed him.

“I am sorry, Axis,” Isaiah said, the man of deep compassion now fully returned.

Axis nodded, then turned away.

Two hours later Axis lay awake in his chamber, hands behind his head, staring into the darkness.

Azhure.

He hadn’t thought much about her since Isaiah had pulled him back into life, but Isaiah’s words earlier brought home to Axis how much he missed her.

I do not have an Azhure in my life, Isaiah had said.

Neither, now, did Axis. She was dead, he was alive, and Axis had no idea if he would ever see her again. Who knew how many otherworlds there were? Who knew whether, once he died from this life, he would return to Azhure’s side?

Besides, how long was he to live now ?

The thought of enduring perhaps fifty years without his wife kept Axis awake throughout the night.

“Damn you, Isaiah,” Axis muttered as the dawn light slowly filtered into his chamber, but there was no anger in his voice, only an infinite sadness.