CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

I saiah walked back to his own chambers, leaving Ishbel’s chamber surrounded by armed men.

As he walked he stared into the faces of the palace guards, trying to see in their bland expressions any hint of disloyalty, or treason.

He could almost hear the whispers seething about the entire tyranny.

The tyrant is weak. Now is our time.

All Isaiah wanted was to concentrate on Ishbel, and then on whatever was now growing inside DarkGlass Mountain, on the damned glass pyramid itself, but he could not afford to. If he didn’t shore up his hold on the throne right now then there would be no invasion, and if there was no invasion…

Then there would be nothing left.

All he wanted was to spend the night watching Ishbel sleep, but what he needed was to get back to his private quarters and call the generals to attendance and order the invasion of the north now.

Isaiah had to admire Lister’s tactics. He was almost certain that the assassination attempt had been Lister’s doing—the bowman had surely been one of the Lealfast, and the man could have killed him as easily as he had wounded him. Lister had wanted to spur Isaiah into action and, by the gods, he’d managed it.

But Lister could not have predicted the true disaster of this day…could he?

Damn it, now Isaiah was beginning to see treachery lurking in every shadow.

Isaiah strode into his private chamber in a black mood, ready to shout for his chamberlain to fetch his generals, when he stopped dead, appalled and angry, and horribly frightened to see Axis sitting at the table leaning back in the chair, legs crossed comfortably at the ankles, feet resting on the table, and chatting apparently quite amiably to Lister through Isaiah’s glass pyramid, which sat in the center of the table.

Isaiah slammed the door shut behind him, hitting one of the approaching servants in the face.

He didn’t give a damn.

“Why, Axis,” Isaiah said softly, “what do you now?”

Axis straightened up in the chair, putting his feet back on the floor, and nodded at the pyramid. “Lister intuited that there was a fuss. He opened the communication, Isaiah. Not I. He wanted to know what was happening.”

“And you told him?”

“Most of it, yes,” Axis said, and Isaiah had to physically restrain himself from bunching his fists. Had he lost control over the entire world on this day?

He looked into the glass pyramid and went cold. Always before, when he had communicated with Lister, the man was within his palace of Crowhurst. Now, however, Lister was garbed in a hooded black cloak, gusting in the wind, and he was standing on what appeared to be a ridge overlooking a vast snowy plain.

Over which flowed an army of Skraeling wraiths.

The Skraelings were on the move.

A movement at the corner of his eye caught Isaiah’s attention.

It was Axis, looking intently at Isaiah and then moving his eyes fractionally toward the pyramid.

There was something in there Axis wanted Isaiah to see.

Isaiah looked at Lister, who was smiling amiably and waiting patiently for Isaiah to greet him, and then looked more clearly behind the man.

There was something else behind Lister other than seething wraiths and snowy plains.

Something in the sky.

Something flying, and then alighting in the distance behind and below Lister.

“Where are you, Lister?” Isaiah said, growing cold at the realization of what he’d just seen.

“I’ve left home,” said Lister. “The wraiths decided all this waiting was terribly tedious, and just like that they decided to head south. Swarm. They claim a deep hunger.”

“Where are you?” barked Isaiah.

Lister made a pretense of rubbing his hands together and blowing out his cheeks, as if surprised to find himself out in the cold. “Oh, somewhere just above Gershadi, I believe,” he said. “Nasty weather, eh?”

Then he dropped all pretense and looked very directly at Isaiah. “It is time you moved, Isaiah. More than time, considering what Axis has just told me. An assassination attempt. And then that scoundrel, Ba’al’uz, murdering your beautiful new bride’s child.”

Lister hesitated there, staring through the pyramid into Isaiah’s eyes, and while he did not speak verbally, Isaiah could hear Lister’s screaming thoughts.

He murdered Maximilian and Ishbel’s child. He sacrificed it! Have you got any idea what that child has been used for, Isaiah? Do you realize what—

“I know, Lister,” Isaiah whispered, and Axis looked strangely at him.

“What a trouble, eh?” Lister carried on, conscious that Axis was listening. “Best to leave Isembaard behind and embark on your conquest of the northern world, yes?” His voice hardened. “It is time to save something, Isaiah, or else lose everything.”

And then he was gone, and the pyramid dulled into lifelessness. Isaiah picked it up, looked at it a moment, then put it away in a box.

“What did Lister mean, Isaiah?”

Isaiah gave a shrug.

Axis’ eyes narrowed. There had been a great deal more to that conversation than mere words. “Did you see the creature alighting behind Lister, Isaiah?”

“Yes. Was it an Icarii?”

“Possibly. And possibly not. Isaiah, that assassin was sent by Lister.”

Isaiah hesitated. Then, grudgingly, he answered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Lister wants me to invade. He thought I was delaying. Therefore he created the circumstances under which I would have to invade. If I don’t, one of the generals will be sitting on my bloodstained throne within a week.”

And in a month after that…Kanubai?

“When, Isaiah?”

Isaiah looked at him for a long moment. “Invade. Now. In six short weeks I can be in the Outlands.” He paused. “Did you enjoy using the pyramid, Axis?”

“Yes. I could smell the Star Dance oozing from it. Who are those almost-Icarii, Isaiah? I feel sure that you know.”

Isaiah was saved from a response by a servant, entering the room, bowing, and announcing the arrival of Isaiah’s generals.

Lister put his glass pyramid down in the snow, staring at it as if he would have liked to kick it all the way to Isembaard.

“Peace, Lister,” Eleanon said, coming up behind him. “Do not destroy it now. It may yet come in useful.

Now, tell me, what has happened?”

“The assassination attempt went well.”

“Yes, I know that. Bingaleal is already well on his way home.”

“Ba’al’uz appeared from nowhere, back from Coroleas. He attempted to assassinate Ishbel.”

“What?”

“There is worse,” Lister said very softly, staring south as if he could see into the very heart of Aqhat.

“Ba’al’uz might have failed at Ishbel, but he has taken the life of Maximilian and Ishbel’s child. She is dead. Her head smote from her shoulders.”

“The baby is dead?”

“And Kanubai risen, no doubt, on the strength of that blood sacrifice. Curse it, Eleanon, I can feel Kanubai in my blood and every sinew of my being. Damn Isaiah for not saving that baby. Damn him!”

Eleanon thought about pointing out that Isaiah had likely been somewhat distracted by the assassination attempt, but thought it politic not to say that to Lister in his current mood.

“Lister,” Eleanon said finally, “what are you going to do? What are we going to do?”

“Pray for a miracle, my beloved friend.” Lister paused, staring south as if he could will that miracle.

“Move, Isaiah. Move, damn you! Save what is left before we all die!”