CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Royal Palace, Ruen, Escator

M aximilian had come back to Ruen because he had no idea what else to do. He couldn’t find Ishbel on his own, and he knew he couldn’t afford the time to scurry helplessly about southern Kyros in the hope of finding a clue. Somewhere. StarWeb and BroadWing and their companions were searching.

Malat—after some persuasion—was searching for her via his network of agents and spies and guardsmen.

With that Maximilian had to be content.

He’d been away from Escator for almost seven months, and Maximilian couldn’t ignore the fact he’d left his kingdom alone for all that time. Yes, the Privy Council had authority to do whatever they needed to keep life running smoothly, but Maximilian had his responsibilities to his kingdom even before his wife, and he’d simply had to return.

He felt keenly the embarrassment of returning without Ishbel. Escator had been preparing a grand welcome for the new queen, and instead their king had slunk home in the middle of the night, minus his wife, and with no idea where she was.

Maximilian had hardly been able to hold court, yet he’d had to, and had to bear the curious looks and whispers and muttered sympathies. He’d hated himself for feeling the embarrassment, knowing that Ishbel, wherever she was, was likely suffering far more than “embarrassment.”

But most of all Maximilian hated himself for not being able to save her, or find her.

He prayed to all gods that BroadWing and StarWeb would have better luck.

At least he was home, and Maximilian took some comfort in that.

One of the first things he did, once he’d rested, was to talk with Vorstus.

“Elcho Falling is stirring,” Maximilian said without preamble when Vorstus walked into the chamber.

“Truly?” said Vorstus, sitting down in a chair and folding his hands.

“How long have you known?” Maximilian said.

“A very long time,” Vorstus said softly, holding Maximilian’s gaze.

Maximilian turned on his heel, walked to a window, and leaned his hands on the sill to stare out.

A very long time? Had Vorstus—and perhaps Light and Water—been manipulating his life for all his forty years?

“You are the perfect man for it,” Vorstus said.

Maximilian still said nothing. He was angry, so angry he was afraid that if he let go of the windowsill then he would physically attack the abbot. He didn’t know what to do, about Ishbel or about Elcho Falling, but he did not trust Vorstus, and could not trust a single thing the man said to him.

All Maximilian wanted to do was to take control of his life, but he had no idea how.

“There is something you should know,” he said finally, still staring out the window.

“Yes?” Vorstus said.

“Are you aware of something called the Twisted Tower?”

“Yes. The Persimius kings passed down the knowledge of Elcho Falling via a memory palace, a storage place for everything they needed to know. You would have been taught how to access the Twisted Tower at an early age.”

“I was nine when my father first began to teach me.” Maximilian turned about, looking at Vorstus steadily. “But did you know, Vorstus, that the Twisted Tower is all but empty? That I can do little more than raise Elcho Falling when it is needed, but that I no longer have access to the knowledge to enable me to wield it fully? Did you not ever consider the possibility that the Twisted Tower would have deteriorated over the centuries, and that knowledge would be forgotten?”

Vorstus rose to his feet. His face was tightly controlled, his eyes flinty. “Then what has been lost needs to be regained, my Lord of Elcho Falling. That shall be your responsibility.”

With that Vorstus left the room, leaving Maximilian staring after him in silent, impotent rage.

Five days after Maximilian had arrived home, he was interrupted during a meeting with Egalion by the arrival of one of the Emerald Guard bursting into Maximilian’s private chamber without even knocking.

“My lord, forgive me,” the man said, sinking briefly to one knee, “but there is urgent news.”

Maximilian had stood as soon as the man entered. “Yes?”

“BroadWing EvenBeat is home. Just now arrived. My lord, he—”

The man got no further, for Maximilian was now staring over his shoulder.

BroadWing was slumped in the doorway, barely able to maintain his feet.

“Dear gods,” Maximilian muttered, knowing instinctively that Broad-Wing brought disastrous news.

Egalion and the Emerald Guardsman helped him to a chair.

“Send for Garth Baxtor,” Maximilian said to the guardsman, and he nodded, and left.

“BroadWing,” Maximilian said, sinking to his haunches beside the Icarii birdman’s chair, “you need attention, and food and drink. Perhaps—”

“What I need,” said BroadWing, “is to tell you what has happened. Everything else can wait.”

Maximilian felt sick to the stomach.

“We found Ishbel,” BroadWing went on without preamble. “She was being taken through the FarReach Mountains down to the Tyranny of Isembaard. Escorted by eight men. She was drugged, helpless. I am sorry, Maximilian, she did not look well.”

“Gods…” Maximilian muttered.

“We decided—oh, stars, I decided, to try to rescue her. She looked so ill…so helpless…”

“BroadWing,” said Maximilian, “don’t blame yourself.”

“Shit,” BroadWing muttered. “I thought I had a brilliant plan. But it was shit, Maximilian. Shit. It killed StarWeb and the others.”

Maximilian looked away.

“The men who had her commanded a frightful power. Dark and shadowy. None of us could withstand it.

StarWeb and the others…exploded. There was nothing left of them.”

Kanubai, thought Maximilian. It must have been Kanubai’s power. Shit! Kanubai had Ishbel? Had he risen already?

Maximilian felt a moment of complete panic. What should he do?

“But you escaped,” Egalion said.

“I would have died, too,” said BroadWing, “save that just as these men turned toward me, a band of armed men arrived. They attacked the eight who had murdered my companions, and drove them away.

They saved my life.”

“A mercy,” said Maximilian, “and one I am most profoundly grateful for. BroadWing, do not blame yourself. You did more than I could ever have expected of—”

“There’s more,” said BroadWing. “The leader of the armed men was Axis SunSoar.”

For a moment there was complete silence as Maximilian and Egalion stared at BroadWing.

“No,” said Maximilian, “that cannot be. You must be mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken,” BroadWing whispered. “Your wife, Ishbel—should she still be alive—is now secreted within the Tyranny of Isembaard, and she is in the hands of the StarMan himself, Axis SunSoar, returned from death.”

“Oh, my gods,” Maximilian muttered. “What else can go wrong?”

Garth Baxtor had arrived just after that, and had seen BroadWing taken to a room and given medication and food. Then he hurried back to Maximilian’s chamber, where Maximilian sat with Egalion. A moment later Vorstus joined them, earning himself a dark look from Maximilian, who had avoided all contact with Vorstus since their conversation on Maximilian’s return to Ruen.

They all looked stunned, unable to believe BroadWing’s news. Maximilian looked particularly pale, and Garth thought that he’d taken the news of StarWeb badly.

“How could Axis SunSoar be alive, and in Isembaard, of all places?” Egalion said, and by the manner of his tone, Garth knew that question had been asked many times over the past half hour or so.

Maximilian shrugged. “From the legends of Tencendor that I have heard, Axis has escaped from death on a number of occasions. What is one more time?”

“But Isembaard?” Vorstus said.

“Has he been involved in the murders, do you think?” Garth said.

Maximilian gave a slow shake of his head. “Not if he fought for Broad-Wing’s life against those who had stolen Ishbel, no. But what he is doing down there…who can tell?”

“What will you do?” Vorstus said.

For the first time in weeks, a look of determination and resolve lit Maximilian’s eyes. “I am going to find my wife,” he said.

“No,” said Vorstus. “No!”