CHAPTER TWELVE

Aqhat and Crowhurst

I saiah watched his rose pyramid dull back to its usual opaque inactivity. For a long time he sat motionless, staring at the pyramid, then very slowly the fingers of one hand began to thrum against the table.

Ba’al’uz had kidnapped Ishbel, Queen of Escator.

Ba’al’uz was sending her to Isaiah at Aqhat with his eight companions while he set off on some mysterious journey to Coroleas.

Ba’al’uz’ excuse for stealing Ishbel was that Isaiah needed another wife and who better than the Queen of Escator when Isaiah was soon to invade the north? A trophy like Ishbel would be sure to impress, not only Isaiah’s generals, but also the soon-to-be-subjected northern peoples. It has added to my campaign of terror and chaos to confound the northern kings, said Ba’al’uz, and it will keep your generals from outright treason for a little while longer, and Isaiah had nodded as if in complete agreement.

Of course, Ba’al’uz did have a point so far as the generals went.

Isaiah knew his five senior generals watched him constantly for weakness, for that moment when one among them might take the opportunity for a swift assassination and assumption of the throne for himself.

Isaiah had many talents, and he was a very powerful man, but any one of those generals could ruin his, and Lister’s, plans with that one fatal strike. For the moment, Isaiah needed to placate them.

A marriage to the captured Queen of Escator, a conquest not quite at the same level as invasion, but nonetheless not insignificant either, might keep that dagger sheathed a month or two longer. Long enough for Isaiah to shore up his own position with a successful invasion of the north.

Long enough for Isaiah to do what he needed.

But generals and treachery aside, Isaiah knew that Ba’al’uz had a far deeper reason for sending Ishbel to Aqhat.

He wanted her.

For a moment Isaiah’s eyes slid toward the windows that looked over the river and DarkGlass Mountain beyond, then they slid back to the pyramid.

Then, as if to counteract that movement, they slid toward the Goblet of the Frogs, which, as usual at this time of evening, stood on the low table in the center of the room, a single lit reed taper behind it to set the glass afire. Isaiah looked at it for a long time, very still, thinking about Ishbel, Queen of Escator.

On her reluctant way to DarkGlass Mountain.

Isaiah drew a deep breath eventually, long and shaky. He needed to talk to Lister, but was far too disturbed to use the pyramid prop.

Instead, he used his power.

Lister, Isaiah whispered across the vast distance, guess who is coming to visit?

Lister was standing by the hearth in his chamber at Crowhurst, and the first that Eleanon and Inardle, another of the Lealfast and Eleanon’s sister, knew of the communication with Isaiah was when Lister went very stiff for a moment or two, and then bent over slightly at his waist, rubbing his temples with the fingers of one hand and muttering, “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“What is it?” said Eleanon, standing and moving to Lister’s side, Inardle only a breath behind him.

“Ba’al’uz has kidnapped Ishbel,” said Lister, “and he has sent her down to Aqhat. She is not there yet, but is on her way. Ba’al’uz just used his pyramid to contact Isaiah and let him know the fruits of Ba’al’uz’

efforts in the north. Ishbel was his prized piece of information.”

Eleanon and Inardle exchanged a shocked glance.

“Even worse,” Lister said, “Isaiah thinks that Ba’al’uz now works Kanubai’s will exclusively. You can be sure that Ba’al’uz did not snatch Ishbel of his own accord. He doesn’t have the wit or the length of coherent thought to be able to plan that.”

“Ishbel shall need all her wits about her,” said Eleanon.

“Ishbel refuses to acknowledge the time of day,” muttered Lister, “let alone her true nature or talents. If Kanubai rose before her, she would simply refuse to see him. Witless, witless, witless!”

Inardle put a gentle hand on Lister’s arm, knowing he referred to himself with those last words rather than Ishbel. “You could not have known Ba’al’uz would do something like that.”

Lister contented himself by slamming a fist into the wall, then cursing as his hand bruised. “I could have predicted it!” he snarled. “By the wind-driven snow itself, I should have thought Ba’al’uz might do something like this! I knew Maximilian and Ishbel were traveling through the north, I knew it. I—”

“Lister,” said Eleanon, “we must trust to the gods that—”

“Oh, you fool,” said Lister. “We are the gods, and look what a mess we’ve got Ishbel into!”

He walked about the chamber, rubbing at his injured hand, pausing to look out a window at four or five Skraelings scurrying far below.

They’re getting restless, he thought. How much longer do any of us have?

“Ba’al’uz has proved more nightmare than aid,” Lister said eventually. “We should have had him murdered months ago.”

“Perhaps now?” said Eleanon.

“Apparently he is off to Coroleas on some crazed expedition,” Lister said. “I don’t know what, but at least in Coroleas he cannot do us much more harm. We worry only if he returns, and we pray that the Coroleans have the sense to spit him the instant he sets foot in their empire.”

“What is Isaiah going to do?” Eleanon said.

“Look after her, I hope,” Lister muttered. “No, not hope. Pray to every benevolent being that he keeps her protected!”