CHAPTER TWENTY

The Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard

T he generals, five of them, filed into Isaiah’s chamber.

They carried no weapons, but that did not lessen the danger Axis felt emanating from them.

He regretted the lack of his own weapon.

Axis glanced at Isaiah. He appeared outwardly calm and composed, confident, but Axis knew he had to be worried.

The generals could make or break him, here and now. After today’s—Axis glanced at the open window, seeing with some surprise the first staining of dawn at the horizon—yesterday’s assassination attempt, Isaiah’s vulnerability was now at a critical level.

“Axis SunSoar shall stay for this conference,” Isaiah said, waving a hand vaguely in Axis’ direction.

Axis nodded at the generals.

Isaiah wasted no time on preliminaries or niceties. “We move,” he said. “When you leave me this morning you return to your commands and prepare for my order to march for Salamaan Pass.”

Armat, the youngest and, Axis thought, the most dangerous of the generals, looked at the other four generals, but the older men kept their faces expressionless.

Axis moved very slightly, putting himself to one side and between Isaiah and the generals. It was a symbolic gesture only. He did not think the generals would—if in the mood and if they thought the time right—attempt to murder Isaiah here and now.

That would come later. In the darkness of full night, when the assassin’s face might not be seen.

“Are you certain we are strong enough for an invasion, Excellency?” Ezekiel said.

Are you certain you are strong enough?

“My strength,” Isaiah said softly, looking at each of the generals in turn, “depends on your strength. I do you the honor, my friends, of trusting that you are each strong enough, and prepared enough, to do Isembaard proud.”

Kezial made a moue. “It is just there are whispers, Excellency. People are…anxious…after yesterday’s unfortunate events. All of Isembaard now knows the tyrant suffered yesterday, was brought to his knees by an assassin’s arrow.”

“And all of Isembaard is worried,” said Lamiah, “that the assassin escaped so cleanly. Who knows when he might strike again?”

Axis looked at Isaiah. The generals were probing, and they were not hiding the fact.

“The responsibility for the regrettable fact of the assassin’s escape,” Isaiah said, “I lay at your feet. As I blame his entry. If Isembaard worries about its tyrant, who is not to say the tyrant does not worry about the capabilities of his generals, who cannot keep a single bowman away from their lord? Perhaps,” he continued, turning away a little and strolling about the chamber, as if supremely relaxed, “I should consider retiring my current generals and replacing them with more experienced command.”

He glanced pointedly at Axis.

Axis gave a soft laugh, startled and not a little annoyed by Isaiah’s insinuation. Stars, now he had most certainly leapt to the top of the generals’ assassination list!

He shot Isaiah a significant look, but Isaiah had averted his eyes and was now toying with the Goblet of the Frogs, which he had lifted from its table.

“We are not responsible for assassination attempts from magicians!” snapped Ezekiel.

“Magicians?” said Isaiah, turning about and looking directly at Ezekiel.

“No one but a magician could have escaped our spearmen,” said Morfah. “We must be frank with you, Excellency. We do not relish a confrontation with an army of magicians.”

“Especially after what happened with the Eastern Independencies,” said Lamiah, very softly.

To a man the generals were now standing aggressively, shoulders thrown back slightly, bodies rigid, eyes hard and confrontational. Axis may not have been in the chamber, for all the attention they gave him.

Axis tensed himself, wishing for what must have been the fiftieth time he knew why it was that Isaiah had failed so dismally in the Eastern Independencies.

Of everyone, Isaiah still appeared relaxed and sure of himself. “Who needs magici—” he began.

“People think you are weak, Isaiah,” Armat said.

Not “Excellency” now. Just “Isaiah.”

“Who needs magicians,” Isaiah said again, his stance also confrontational, “when I command the land itself?”

Ezekiel, as did Lamiah and Armat, opened his mouth, and then closed it, his eyes wide, as he stared at the Goblet of the Frogs.

It was…moving.

Axis stared himself, unable to believe what he was seeing. A shaft of the dawn light had hit the caged glass goblet, illuminating it as if it were filled with blood. Spectacular as that effect was, it was not what had so startled everyone watching Isaiah.

The glass frogs attached to the reeds set into the side of the goblet were now moving. They clambered playfully up and down the sides of the goblet, jumping in and out of the cup, croaking cheerfully.

The reeds themselves wafted, as if caught by a breeze.

And the glass of the inner wall of the goblet shifted and rippled, as if it were water.

One of the frogs crawled over the back of one of Isaiah’s hands, then dropped into the bowl of the goblet.

Isaiah had not moved his eyes from his generals. “Imagine,” he said softly, “if I can make this simple glass goblet come to life and do my bidding, what I might do to a sword at a man’s hip, if that man annoyed me. The elements themselves obey me, my friends, and I would beg you to consider your wives’ and children’s tears and do similar.”

Axis could not speak. He was stunned. He’d always suspected Isaiah of some kind of supernatural power. But to see this, now…

Ezekiel stiffened. “My life and my command is yours at your will, Excellency. You need not doubt my loyalty.”

Isaiah’s mouth moved in a small cynical smile.

“And mine,” said Morfah, and the other generals tripped over their tongues, hastening to assure Isaiah of their respective loyalties.

“Then do as I bid,” Isaiah said softly, “and do as I say. Ready your commands—and the families who wish to partake of the riches of the kingdoms beyond the FarReach Mountains—at the head of the Salamaan Pass for me to join you. The Northern Kingdoms shall not be another debacle. I can assure you of that.”

The generals looked, nodded, then left.

“Well,” said Axis, “I had been dozing off there until you produced that little surprise. I had no idea, Isaiah.”

Isaiah put the goblet back on the table. “It was a trick of the light, Axis, nothing more. Generals are so easily fooled, so easily manipulated.”

Now it was Axis who allowed the cynicism to flower on his face, but he said no more on the matter.

But, oh, gods, who could he ask about the Eastern Independencies campaign?

“I would like to give you command of ten thousand men, Axis,” Isaiah said.

“No,” said Axis, “I will not fight the Northern Kingdoms for you, Isaiah. I don’t agree with this invasion and I do not like your alliance with Lister.”

“Are you refusing me?”

“I am refusing you, but I am not rebelling. There is a difference.”

“Yes. I am aware of the difference, Axis. Very well then, if you will not fight for me, will you at least act as my…” He paused, looking for a suitable term.

“Adjutant,” said Axis with a smile, using a rather archaic word for a general assistant to a military commander. “Adjutant” covered a myriad of ills.

Isaiah laughed softly. “Adjutant, then. Yes. That would please me. And, as my adjutant, if you might keep a sword by your hip at all times from this point on, that would also please me.”

“The generals are restless, Isaiah. This campaign needs to go well.”

“Perhaps I should reconsider and give you my entire army to command.”

“Isaiah,” Axis said, hesitantly, “have you considered the possibility of not invading?”

“That is not a possibility.”

“Isaiah—”

“It is not a possibility, Axis.”

Axis held Isaiah’s eyes for a long moment, then he nodded, and left the chamber.

Once Axis had gone Isaiah wasted no time in contacting Lister.

You fool! he hissed, more angry than he had been in countless years. What did you think you were doing, eh? Trying to force my hand? Look what happened! The palace was in uproar, Ishbel was left unprotected, and Ba’al’uz murdered her and Maximilian’s child!

You were not moving fast enough, Lister said. You needed to be pushed. Now you will need to move, if only to keep your throne for the time it takes you to get you and yours into the Outlands. Kanubai has been born. You shall need to leave in the morning.

Isaiah’s temper had quieted, but only to a deeper, colder anger than previously.

You want me to move from Aqhat in the morning—

You need to, Lister said. Kanubai has risen! DarkGlass Mountain writhes! You cannot possibly remain there—

I cannot move, not for ten days or so. If I move in the morning then all will say I am unsettled and frightened, weakened, by the assassination attempt and am fleeing. I’ll be dead by evening by one of the generals’ swords. Then where will our little “invasion” be, eh? I need to be alive and in control to lead this land to safety and, after your little stupidity of today, that means I will need to remain here for a time yet. Kanubai cannot act immediately. Not without the lifeblood of the Skraelings. Where are they?

Still distant. But don’t leave it any longer than two weeks to leave for the north. Please, please, Isaiah, be careful.

Isaiah did not reply for a moment. Gods, the damned, cursed stupidity of Lister!

Have you discovered Maximilian’s whereabouts? Isaiah finally asked.

There has been a rumor that he was seen in the FarReach Mountains. There have been some Icarii closely associated with him hanging about Deepend and transferring supplies south. I think he is in the FarReach Mountains, Isaiah. Perhaps even in Isembaard by now. You need to get out of Aqhat or else Kanubai will have Maximilian to swallow, too!

[ Part Eight ]