CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Royal Palace, Ruen, Escator

I t was a massive risk, leaving Escator so soon after he’d arrived home, but Maximilian knew he had to do it. He couldn’t abandon Ishbe or their child. He needed to rescue her for purely personal reasons—he loved her and wanted both her and their child safe—and for darker reasons, as Ishbel had been sent to him for a purpose: she was somehow intimately connected with Elcho Falling and she could not be allowed to fall into the hands of Kanubai.

Kanubai wanted her. More than anything else, that fact reinforced in Maximilian’s mind that she was somehow integral to Elcho Falling.

Well might Kanubai want her, but at least for the moment she was in the hands of Axis…and Maximilian thought Axis was the better bet than Kanubai.

Just slightly.

Maximilian lay awake at night, thinking of Ishbel, ill and alone, dragged through the FarReach Mountains.

He lay awake, racked with guilt that the face he’d shown her in their last days together had been one of anger and accusation.

Maximilian grieved for StarWeb and carried a burden of guilt for her death, as well as the other three Icarii who had died trying to rescue Ishbel, but for the most part his thoughts were for Ishbel and her plight. This time he would not send others to do what perhaps he should have done in the first instance.

This time he’d find her himself.

No one was happy with Maximilian’s decision, whether the Privy Council of Preferred Nobles, or Egalion representing the Emerald Guard, or Garth Baxtor, or most particularly Vorstus. The abbot of the Order of Persimius spent hours arguing with Maximilian, saying it was pointless to risk his own life when there were many others who could go. Others who were trained for this kind of thing, damn it!

Maximilian was risking both his own life and Escator’s well-being unnecessarily—not to mention Elcho Falling.

“Ishbel is intimately connected with Elcho Falling,” Maximilian said to Vorstus as the abbot tried yet again to persuade him against mounting his own rescue effort.

“You are more important than Ishbel,” Vorstus said. “Elcho Falling is more important than Ishbel!”

“Not to me,” Maximilian responded quietly.

Vorstus was not the only one to try to persuade Maximilian against his plan.

“We can’t afford to lose you,” Baron Lixel said to Maximilian on a day that he, Egalion, Vorstus, and Garth met once more with the king to persuade him against this venture. “You are needed here. Only this morning we received word that the Outlands have declared formal war on Pelemere and Berfardi. Sire, I beg you, reconsider. Our world is disintegrating into war. We cannot afford to have you chase off after—”

He stopped, seeing Maximilian’s eyes slide his way.

“Ishbel can be rescued as easily, more easily and with less risk, by someone else,” Lixel finished.

“I’m sorry,” Garth said, “but I don’t like any of this. Is Ishbel worth risking your life, and Escator’s peace, over?”

“I do not like you going after her personally,” said Lixel. “I fear for you, and for Escator. I would prefer you sent Egalion, and the Emerald Guard. And what do any of us know about this land of Isembaard?

Nothing! It is huge, and you have no idea where to search, and—”

“I will find her, Lixel,” Maximilian said. “I am sure I know where she is going.”

Lixel made a gesture of helplessness. “If you must, then go, Maximilian. But, please, gods, return to us!”

“I and the Emerald Guard will ensure that he—” Egalion began, before Maximilian raised a hand and stopped him.

“I’m sorry, Egalion, I do this with only a very small party. Two of the best of the Emerald Guard. No more. Three of us all told. We can travel light and fast and undetected. My friends, if I could survive seventeen years in the Veins, I can survive a journey into Isembaard.”

He shot Vorstus a dark look then, daring him to say something, but the abbot remained silent.

“Maxel,” said Egalion. “I insist that you take with you—”

“Two of your very best men,” said Maximilian. “But just two. Choose for me.”

Egalion gave a tight nod, unhappy, but accepting Maximilian’s decision.

“And I?” Garth said softly.

“I think it is better you stay, Garth. I am sorry.”

Garth’s face tightened, then he jerked his eyes away.

Maximilian watched him for a moment, then looked to Baron Lixel. “Baron, I hesitate to burden you with this, but I would that you act on my behalf while I am gone. I am meeting with the Privy Council in the morning, if you will join me.”

Lixel nodded. “And to think I’d thought to enjoy my ‘retirement’ in Escator.”

Maximilian managed a smile. “I have just made you a king, Lixel. Do not look so glum.”

Vorstus remained behind when the others left. “This is madness, Maximilian,” he said. “It is too dangerous. Elcho Falling needs you. You must not dash off on some foolhardy mission into utter danger.

Maximilian, if your bloodline ends here, then our world dies.”

“I need her, Vorstus, and I am certain that Elcho Falling needs her as well. I am going. Do not try to persuade me against—”

“Do you not know what awaits you down in Isembaard?”

“Kanubai? Is he risen already? If so, then we may as well lay down and die now, Vorstus, for at the moment I have not the heart, or the ability, to shoulder all the aches and pains of Elcho Falling.”

“Then promise me one thing,” Vorstus said, moving forward with a speed and litheness that belied his years. “Promise you will not go near DarkGlass Mountain. Stay in the north if you possibly can, but do not go near DarkGlass Mountain!”

“I will do what is needed to retrieve Ishbel,” Maximilian said, “and then I will come home to Escator, Vorstus. I promise you that.”

Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

Vorstus stood and looked at the door through which Maximilian had vanished.

“Wrong,” Vorstus whispered, his eyes glittering as if with madness. “You will never come home to Escator at all. Your time here is done, and Escator was doomed from the moment you rose from the Veins.”

Then, closing his eyes and tipping his head back slightly, Vorstus sent an urgent message north to Lister.

Lister, disaster upon disaster. Maximilian now thinks to travel into Isembaard after Ishbel.

Vorstus thought about telling Lister what Maximilian had told him about the Twisted Tower, but decided against it. The Twisted Tower could wait—what everyone needed to do now was to ensure Maximilian’s survival.

“Fool,” Vorstus muttered one more time.

The day after Maximilian had left, accompanied only by two Emerald Guardsmen called Serge and Doyle, Vorstus went to Maximilian’s bedchamber late one night.

He was dressed in traveling clothes, and he carried a leather satchel that hung loose and empty.

Vorstus went directly to that particular section of floor and made the same gesture with his hand that Maximilian had used to open the trapdoor.

Then he descended into the Persimius Chamber.

The column that had once held the queen’s ring was empty save for its cushion.

Good. Maximilian had taken the ring with him.

Vorstus turned his eye to the crown.

It seethed with a darkness so profound that its three entwined bands of gold were all but hidden.

“I wonder if Maximilian came down here to see this before he left?” Vorstus muttered to himself, knowing that Maximilian probably hadn’t—that he’d wanted no reason to abandon his foolish quest for Ishbel.

Vorstus walked over to the crown and, without any hesitation, seized it in both hands.

The crown hissed at him, the darkness writhing in agitation, but Vorstus took no notice. He thrust the crown into the leather satchel, secured it firmly, then left the chamber.

Within the hour he was on a horse and riding east.