CHAPTER THREE

Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

I shbel had slept for a few hours, mostly from sheer exhaustion, but then her turbulent thoughts woke her.

Knowing she would not be able to get back to sleep, she rose, donned an outer gown over her nightdress, and sat in the open window looking out over the vast inner courtyard of the palace.

In order to keep her thoughts at bay for a few minutes, she concentrated on the view. Aqhat—indeed, Isembaard itself—was so beautiful. Ishbel had spent her entire life until this past year in the cold, windswept north, and most of that in the even colder and more windswept Serpent’s Nest. She was used to landscapes of blunted trees and tough grasses, cragged mountains and tired, rolling hills, gray mornings and dull days, underpinned by the constant pounding of the surf at the foundations of the mountain.

Here all was sweet, spiced warm winds and soft color, and a clarity and richness of the air which, Ishbel thought, could uplift the most jaded of spirits.

She leaned against the window, looking out into a wide courtyard. The courtyard was dotted here and there with tall palm trees and stands of thick broad-leaved lilies, which wound about the serpentine edges of a reflecting pool. Beyond the courtyard a broad path led down through lawns to the Lhyl. Ishbel could just make out the river’s thick reed banks, and hear, very softly, the song of the frogs.

Her hand rested on her belly. The baby was moving, not much, just sweetly and gently, as if it were too languid to be bothered turning over completely in her womb.

She wondered where Maximilian was, and if he were thinking of her, or of the child. He seemed very far away, almost a dream. If it wasn’t for the child inside her, Ishbel thought it might be easy to forget him entirely, to let him go, let her memory of the marriage fade, just drift into the air…

She sighed, rousing herself slightly, thinking over the day, and finally allowing herself to think about Isaiah.

He was the god who had spoken to her atop Serpent’s Nest. A companion god to the Great Serpent.

He was also a tyrant who planned an invasion of her homeland.

What was happening? Was he the great evil from the south that the Great Serpent had warned her about? But if he was, then why were the Serpent and Isaiah—a god of the waters as represented by the frog—so obviously close?

And what did he know about the Lord of Elcho Falling? Why refer to her as this bleak lord’s priestess?

Ishbel did not know what to think. What she felt from Isaiah, once she got past that cold, arrogant exterior, was genuine warmth and incredible compassion, yet she could not reconcile that with the Isaiah who planned a massive invasion of the north, one which already, via Ba’al’uz, promulgated misery and death.

Ishbel’s mind drifted as she sat, and she remembered the warmth of his fingers, and the sweet whispers of the goblet.

Hold me, soothe me, love me.

Hold him, soothe him, love him.

At that very moment Isaiah strode into view from the far side of the courtyard. It was late, almost dawn, and Ishbel wondered where he had been.

She leaned a little farther from the window, holding to its frame for safety, to watch his progress.

She was not surprised, nor particularly perturbed, when he lifted his eyes and saw her.

A few minutes later Ishbel heard the door to her chamber softly open and close.

She was still sitting in the window, and did not look at him as he walked over to her.

“Where have you been?” she said, and then wished she could snatch those words back, for they could be interpreted so many different ways.

“I have been sitting in DarkGlass Mountain,” he said, coming to stand close to her and looking out the window. “Do you know of it?”

“Zeboath mentioned it, and Axis thought it might be the ancient evil rising in the south about which the Great Serpent warned me.”

He laughed. “But you prefer to think the ancient evil is me.”

“Isaiah…oh, I don’t know what to call you…”

“Isaiah will do.”

“Isaiah, what are you doing? You are the god who spoke to me atop Serpent’s Nest, who embraced me with such compassion. Why this guise?” She gestured at his body, his attire. “Why the invasion? I cannot understand that of you…such cruelty.”

“Trust me, Ishbel. Please. All is not as it seems.”

“Axis does not know what you are?”

Isaiah gave a brief shake of his head.

“Why not?”

“I want Axis to distrust me slightly. He knows that I am far more than just ‘tyrant,’ and he knows I have great power.”

“Why would you want him to distrust you? He could be a dangerous enemy to you, Isaiah.”

“I do not think he will be my enemy. He is my friend, but I hope eventually that he will be a great friend to someone else. That is why I want him to distrust me, just that little bit. Someone else needs his entire friendship and trust far more than me. Someone else is going to need his advice and support far, far more than me.”

“Who?”

Isaiah’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “I cannot believe you slapped me on the wharf.”

Ishbel accepted the change of subject, and that Isaiah did not want to tell her everything. “You were stupidly arrogant.”

“I have an army and ambitious generals to control, Ishbel, and this fleshed form makes me vulnerable.

Perhaps better to keep your ire at my arrogance for more private admonishments, eh?”

There was an edge of rebuke in his voice now, and Ishbel dropped her eyes.

“But you are very courageous,” Isaiah said, softly, the warmth back in his voice, “and that is good.”

“Courageous? No, I think not. I have spent most of my life trembling at one thing or another.”

“Like when people casually drop the name of Elcho Falling into the conversation. Ah, there you go again, tense enough to break should someone drop you.”

“His name causes me such pain, and loss, and terrible foreboding.”

“All emotions closely allied with the Lord of Elcho Falling.”

“Who is he?”

“A legend, Ishbel. But…”

“But?”

“But a legend for which many yearn.”

“Not I.”

“Your future is tied to him. I think you know that.”

“Isaiah, stop talking in riddles. Please, who is the Lord of Elcho Falling? What is his legend? And why should I be tied to him?”

Isaiah sat on the windowsill himself, facing her. “How brave are you, Ishbel? What if I said that to prove yourself courageous enough to hear the legend of the Lord of Elcho Falling, you should need to pass a test?”

“I am not a schoolgirl, Isaiah.”

“In this matter you are very much the untutored schoolgirl,” he said softly, holding her gaze.

Again she dropped her eyes from his, and Isaiah sighed, and changed the subject.

“Tell me about Maximilian. Tell me about your marriage.”

“You want a report? I am not sure I am willing to give you one. Leave me my secrets, please, as you choose to keep yours.”

“Does he love you, Ishbel?”

She wondered what to say to that. She could have lied, but she was too tired. “He blames me for the chaos in the Central Kingdoms. Ba’al’uz did not simply create the circumstances to favor your invasion, Isaiah, he destroyed my marriage. You and the Great Serpent sent me to marry Maximilian, but you also sent north the means by which our marriage has been destroyed. Maximilian hates me, Isaiah. For that blame either Ba’al’uz or yourself, I don’t care which.”

Isaiah sighed. “I apologize for Ba’al’uz, Ishbel. It was never my intention that he should attack either you or Maximilian, nor did I think Maximilian would blame you for the havoc Ba’al’uz wreaked. Maybe I should have thought more carefully before I sent Ba’al’uz. Maybe even gods make mistakes occasionally. But you are here now, and I confess myself glad. Isaiah the man is glad.”

“Go away and leave me be, Isaiah. I am tired.”

“And no wonder, for I must have caused you much disturbance on several levels today, Ishbel. I shall leave you be now and for the next few days. Then, perhaps, we shall test your courage, yes? To see if you are fit to hear the legend of Elcho Falling?”