CHAPTER EIGHT

Palace of Aqhat, Tyranny of Isembaard

W hen there came a knock at the door, far earlier in the morning than usual, Axis was surprised to see Ba’al’uz waiting for him.

“Isaiah asked me to collect you today,” Ba’al’uz said, “so that we might meet with him in his private chambers at the tenth hour.”

“But that is two hours or more away,” said Axis.

“I thought perhaps you and I might put those hours to good use,” said Ba’al’uz. “For a chat, perhaps. Do you wish to come like that, or…?”

Axis looked down.

All he had on was a towel from his morning ablutions.

Axis grinned. “You caught me early,” he said. “Give me a moment.”

And but a minute later, clad more respectably in light-colored trousers and waistcoat, with sandals on his feet, Axis set off with Ba’al’uz.

“Isaiah tells me you witnessed his communication with the Lord of the Skraelings,” Ba’al’uz said without preamble as he led them along a corridor with huge, unglazed windows along one side.

“Indeed. It was most curious. I have many questions.”

“It was why I came early for you. I thought you would want to know more.”

“And you don’t mind answering?”

“I have nothing to hide from you, Axis. Isaiah has requested that I indulge your every question, and so I will.”

Axis doubted very much that Ba’al’uz had nothing to hide, but hoped that, under Isaiah’s directive, he might at least provide some answers to Axis’ more pressing questions.

“Who are you, Ba’al’uz,” Axis said. “What are you to Isaiah?”

“I am Isaiah’s maniac.”

“Yes, but what—”

“I am Isaiah’s brother,” Ba’al’uz said, grinning at the expression on Axis’ face. “His elder brother by some dozen years.”

“Then why is he tyrant, and not you?”

“Ah,” said Ba’al’uz. “Thereby hangs a tale. Please, if you will, step through here.”

Ba’al’uz indicated a doorway in the corridor, and Axis walked through into a magnificently tiled veranda commanding views over the surrounding countryside. Ten minutes’ walk beyond the palace flowed the emerald waters and reed-covered riverbanks of the Lhyl, and just beyond that, on the far bank, rose the massive pyramid of DarkGlass Mountain. It was covered in blue-green glass and surmounted by a cap of gold.

Axis thought it the most beautiful and yet, somehow, the most deadly thing he had ever seen. He had questions about that, too, but for the moment he was intrigued more by the fact that Ba’al’uz and Isaiah were brothers.

“Do you know of the manner in which a tyrant comes to the throne of Isembaard?” Ba’al’uz said, leaning on the railing and looking out over the countryside.

“No. I’d assumed that Isaiah was his father’s eldest son.”

Ba’al’uz shook his head. “Isaiah was his father’s twentieth son, and there were another eighteen after him. Thirty-eight of us, all told.”

Axis thought that with all the wives Isaiah’s father must have enjoyed, it was amazing he had so few sons.

“By what process, then, is the tyrant chosen?” he said.

“You know the throne of Isembaard is a warrior throne?”

“Yes, Isaiah told me as much.”

“Well, then, what better way to decide who to sit that throne than with individual combat bouts between the sons.”

Ba’al’uz turned a little so he could see Axis’ face. “To the death.”

Axis could not speak for a moment. He’d battled with his brother Borneheld for Achar, and killed him, but to do that so many times over? Isaiah had seen thirty-six of his brothers die so he could assume the throne?

“Why are you still alive?” Axis finally asked.

“Me?” Ba’al’uz assumed an effeminate pose and an arch expression. “Can you imagine me with a weapon in my hand! No…” He laughed merrily. “There is a strain of madness runs through our family, Axis. In every generation there is one son…not quite right. Strange.” He paused, then hissed, “Crazed!

Such sons do not battle. Instead we become our successful brother’s maniac. His court wit. His weapon.”

Again he laughed, and Axis could indeed hear the faint strains of madness lurking deep within Ba’al’uz’

being.

Genuine, or counterfeit? Axis wondered about a son who, knowing he did not have the skills to succeed in combat, might save his life by pretending madness.

“Weapon?” Axis said.

“A madman sees things, hears things, that no other can,” said Ba’al’uz, and this time Axis thought he could recognize genuine insanity in the man’s eyes.

“He dares things,” Ba’al’uz continued, “that no other can. And he knows things that no other can comprehend. Madness is a gift of the gods, Axis, and I serve my brother well. Madness is power, yes?

Not like that which once you wielded, but power nonetheless. I have my life, and I am grateful, and I do whatever I can to smooth Isaiah’s path through tyranny. I slide through my brother’s court like an evil wind, and in the doing I confound his enemies and scry out their secrets.”

Axis gave an uncomfortable laugh. “What have you scried out from me, then?”

“That you are a burned-out hero, Axis, and that Isaiah has nothing to fear from you.” He grinned as he said it, and with such malevolence that Axis actually leaned back a little.

Stars, how did Isaiah stand the man?

He couldn’t, Axis realized. Isaiah may have sent Ba’al’uz to answer any questions Axis had, but the underlying purpose of Isaiah’s request was that Axis see once and for all Ba’al’uz’ true nature.

Ba’al’uz was a frighteningly dangerous man, and Axis wondered what his secret ambition was, how he meant to achieve it, and what it would mean to all about him. Maybe Isaiah hoped Axis could tell him.

“Well, then,” said Axis, “why not tell this ‘burned-out hero’”—he wished he had the control not to grind the words out—“the purpose of that pyramid across the river. It is most intriguing.”

“Ah,” said Ba’al’uz, “DarkGlass Mountain. It is intriguing, is it not?”

“Who built it? For what purpose?”

“Be patient, Axis, and I shall tell you what I know.” He leaned on the balcony railing again, looking at the glass pyramid. “From what anyone can gather—and my forebears spent their lives checking records—DarkGlass Mountain was built about two thousand years ago.”

“By whom?” asked Axis. The momentary antagonism between them had vanished, and Axis leaned on the railing as well, looking curiously at the massive pyramid.

“A group of men known as the Magi caused its construction. The Magi worshipped numbers, particularly the One. The Magi were mathematical geniuses. They used the power of the One in order to build a device by which they could touch more intimately the power of the One, and, by so doing, reach out to touch Infinity. Creation. Call it what you will.”

Casual words for what made Axis’ soul turn cold. Touching the power of Creation. Was there anything more powerful, or more dangerous?

“Then, the pyramid was not known as DarkGlass Mountain,” continued Ba’al’uz. “It was called Threshold.”

Threshold, thought Axis. A doorway. “Did the Magi manage it?” he said. “Did they touch Infinity?”

Ba’al’uz’ lip curled. “Yes, they did. But when DarkGlass Mountain was first opened up to the power of Infinity, something went wrong.”

Axis went even colder. Something went “wrong.”

A catastrophe, more like.

“There was…a small rebellion, I believe,” said Ba’al’uz, “initiated by those jealous of the Magi and the power they commanded. The Magi lost, and were all but slaughtered. DarkGlass Mountain was stripped of its glass, and left to be buried in sand drifts.”

“But here it stands in all its glory.”

“Yes,” Ba’al’uz said very slowly. “Strange, is it not?”

Axis waited, refusing to ask the question, and Ba’al’uz pouted and continued. “Perhaps several hundred years ago, DarkGlass Mountain regrew itself.”

“What?”

“After the rebellion, when the Magi were slaughtered and their knowledge condemned,” said Ba’al’uz,

“DarkGlass Mountain’s glass was stripped away, its chambers blocked and its capstone buried. The glass was supposed to have been broken, but it was buried instead. For a thousand years and more, DarkGlass Mountain sat covered in hessian and sand, a mound only. Then, one day, some of the sand slid away, and a little more the next day, until over the space of two or three years the entire structure was revealed. Stone only, for DarkGlass Mountain had yet to reclad itself in glass and capstone.”

“Someone must have been—”

“No,” Ba’al’uz said softly, his gaze fixed on DarkGlass Mountain, “the tyrant at that time set men to watching. No one came near the pyramid. It simply…regrew. Once its stone structure was uncovered, the blue glass began to appear, growing up from the ground, gradually covering the pyramid’s sides. It flowed up from the depths of burial. Very, very slowly, but the glass flowed.

“That process took five years to accomplish. Then the rest. The capstone, and all of DarkGlass Mountain’s internal chambers.”

“Internal chambers?”

“There are tunnels and shafts,” said Ba’al’uz, “all of which lead to a central chamber of the most exquisite glass. The Infinity Chamber. You must ask Isaiah to show it to you someday. He sits there, on occasion.”

Axis shuddered. “What is it, Ba’al’uz? What is its purpose?”

“No one knows. Isn’t that amusing? Here it sits, a great beautiful glass pyramid, positively humming with power on some days, and no one knows.” Ba’al’uz tapped his nose and assumed a conspiratorial look.

“I can tell you this, Axis, because only I and Isaiah know. The tyrants, long ago when Dark-Glass Mountain regrew itself, built their palace of Aqhat here so that it would appear they used the pyramid to bolster their power. ‘Look at me, Great Tyrant of Isembaard, who controls the mysterious power of Dark-Glass Mountain.’ But between you and me and Isaiah, Axis, none of the tyrants have known anything about the pyramid, let alone how to use it. They use it as…oh, as a piece of stage. Every so often Isaiah embarks on a great ceremonial procession across the river, strides—alone—into the Infinity Chamber, sits there for an hour twiddling his thumbs, and then walks out again, proclaiming that he has had converse with the gods and they have shown him the way forward. Of course nothing of the sort has happened, but who is to know that? The tyrants have closely associated their throne and power with DarkGlass Mountain, and yet none of them has the faintest idea what it is!”

Ba’al’uz burst into a peal of laughter.

“How is it Lister also controls the power of the pyramids?” Axis said.

Now Axis had caught Ba’al’uz off balance. “What?”

“The glass pyramids that Lister gave Isaiah and yourself. They are powerful treasures, are they not?

Perhaps Lister knows some of the secrets of the DarkGlass Mountain. Secrets that you have not yet learned.”

Ba’al’uz frowned. “No. Surely not. Lister said he found them.”

Axis laughed softly, disbelievingly, and Ba’al’uz flushed.

“He said he found them!”

“And you believed him. The Lord of the Skraelings. No wonder Isaiah needs my advice. Perhaps he and DarkGlass Mountain are in league, eh? Perhaps they spy on you with those pyramids, yes?”

“No. Lister knows nothing about DarkGlass Mountain. Nothing. It does not speak to him.”

Oh, there was a question there begging to be asked, but Axis did not think Ba’al’uz was aware of his slip, and he thought it best not to alert the maniac.

“How did Isaiah and Lister come to ally?” Axis said smoothly, leading Ba’al’uz away from what he’d just revealed. “I cannot imagine they met in a tavern, or on a chance walk along the riverbank.”

“Lister approached Isaiah two years ago,” said Ba’al’uz, his eyes narrowed, trying to work out how Axis had suddenly assumed the lead in the conversation. “A whispered word from a shadowed envoy. You were a king, you must know how these things work.”

Axis shrugged. “And then Lister sent the pyramids to you.”

“Yes,” Ba’al’uz said slowly, then added a trifle hastily, “We don’t trust him, you know.”

“Good,” said Axis, “for I doubt very much he is to be trusted. Now, the sun grows hot, and I am somewhat wearied of the view of DarkGlass Mountain. Shall we go to Isaiah?”

Ba’al’uz nodded. Reluctantly, and with a final glance at DarkGlass Mountain, he led Axis toward Isaiah’s private apartments.

The palace of Aqhat was an amazing collection of buildings, spires, minarets, echoing audience and dining chambers, air walks, underground passages, hidden doors, soaring arches and windows, and, above all, of dazzling displays of wealth and power. Gold and jewels glittered on the walls and around the frames of doors and windows in every public chamber.

In stark contrast, Isaiah’s private chambers were almost bare. The walls were unadorned, the furnishings simple if comfortable, and the few accoutrements present subtle. Isaiah allowed few people in here: not even his many wives, for Axis had heard he kept a special chamber for entertaining them in the evenings.

Apart from Ba’al’uz, Axis had never seen anyone else in the quarters, not even servants. While here, Isaiah served himself.

Isaiah beckoned them to a group of chairs set by a window to catch a cooling breeze from the Lhyl.

“You will not be surprised to hear,” Isaiah said to Ba’al’uz as they sat down, “that Axis has agreed to advise me from time to time. I always think it best to have an independence of opinion about my decisions.”

“I am indeed not surprised,” Ba’al’uz said smoothly. “Axis SunSoar has a wealth of experience regarding the Skraelings. We would be wise to listen to him.”

“And thus he sits in on this conversation,” said Isaiah. “Ba’al’uz, I have talked to Lister, and he and I agree that you must go north within the week.”

Isaiah looked at Axis. “As you have realized,” Isaiah said, “Lord Lister and I mean to ally in an invasion of the north. Ba’al’uz is to go north for the next several months in order to, how shall I say this, sow the seeds for our success.”

“Create mayhem and confusion,” said Ba’al’uz with a decidedly cheerful air. “A small conflict or two as well, should I be lucky.”

“You want to divide the Northern Kingdoms before you invade,” said Axis. “Set them at each other’s throats so they are less likely to notice you sneaking up at their backs, and far less able to respond well.

Divide and conquer is surely the first maxim learned by all good tyrants.”

Isaiah looked hard at him at the last, but did not comment on it.

“On the other hand,” said Axis, “you will find the Northern Kingdoms with their forces already mobilized and battle-hardened. The ploy may work as much against you as for you. How good are their generals?”

“The Outlanders have some good leaders, but they are experienced only in intertribal warfare. I doubt they could manage a response to the kind of armies Lister and I can command.”

No one can manage a good response to an invasion of Skraelings, thought Axis.

“Pelemere and Kyros have several good generals,” Isaiah continued.

“Who I intend to take care of,” said Ba’al’uz, studying the fingernails on one hand.

“And the kings and princes?” said Axis, regarding the other two over steepled fingers. “You need only one charismatic leader to take a hopelessly divided muddle of peoples and turn them into victors.”

“As you would know,” said Isaiah. “But there are none who strike me as any potential threat.” He paused. “Or is there someone you think I should know about…?”

Axis thought about it. It wasn’t so much that he needed the time to think of a name, but to decide if he should mention it to Isaiah and Ba’al’uz.

“There’s a wild card,” he said finally. “Maximilian Persimius, King of Escator.”

Ba’al’uz smiled derisively. “Escator is a tiny kingdom, and all but ruined. It can hardly raise enough policemen to keep market-day traffic under control, let alone an army to repel forces such as Isaiah and Lister command between them.”

“I am not talking of forces,” said Axis. “I am talking of charismatic leaders.”

“You know this Maximilian?” said Isaiah.

Axis shook his head. “I have never met him, but my son Caelum did, and Maximilian was for some time considered a match for my close friend Belial’s daughter. He is highly, highly regarded. You know his story?”

“That he was imprisoned in Escator’s gloam mines for…what…fifteen or more years?” Isaiah said. “And that he was released on the endeavors of several youths and a cohort of ancient monks, from what I can recall of the story. Maximilian has ever since been somewhat of a recluse. Axis, why mark him as a charismatic leader?”

“I think of him only as a possibility,” Axis said. “The man survived seventeen years under conditions that killed everyone else within six months. That says something for his character and tenacity. It tells me that he is, to put it simply, a survivor, and that he has depths that should not be lightly disregarded. He is also liked by all who meet him. Highly regarded, as I said. The man has something.”

“But not an army,” said Ba’al’uz. “And unlikely to raise one anywhere. He is also stuck far away on the west coast of the continent. He is no threat.”

Axis shrugged. “You asked, I told.”

Isaiah studied Axis a moment, then looked to Ba’al’uz. “When shall you leave?”

“Within a few days,” said Ba’al’uz. He smiled, all geniality and affability. “I do so like the idea of a vacation.”

When Ba’al’uz was gone, Axis turned to Isaiah and said, “That man is your brother?”

“He terrifies me more than my other brothers did combined,” said Isaiah. “The trouble is, I cannot know if he will be more trouble to me dead than alive. At the least he is traveling north and I shall be rid of the man for a few months.”