The Serpent Bride. Sara Douglass
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than spoken word.
“Take them,” said Lister. “Did the kitchen hand out the scraps to your comrades earlier?”
“Yes,” said another of the Skraelings. “Thank you. Lard and blood. Tasty.”
“Tasty, tasty,” whispered the other two.
Lister nodded at the table, and the three Skraelings crept forward, gathering plates into their awkward hands, licking each one clean as they picked them up. Then, silver orbs glancing at Lister, they crept back through the door, closing it behind them.
“Damned creatures,” Lister muttered. He loathed them, but for the moment it was better to be their friend than their enemy.
Like his ally, Water, who stood watch over the ancient evil far to the south, Lister stood watch over the tens of thousands of Skraelings who gathered in the frozen hills about Crowhurst. He knew that Kanubai whispered to them from deep within his abyss, and that Kanubai was the Skraelings’ only true lord. But Lister had wormed his serpentine way into the Skraelings’ affections by feeding them scraps and leavings in order that he might live beside them, and watch their every move.
They were loathsome companions, but for the moment Lister must make do.
And at least they were not his only companions. Another footfall sounded at the door, and Lister looked up, smiling in genuine warmth as the winged woman entered.
THE ROYAL PALACE, RUEN, ESCATOR
Maximilian lay in bed alone, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Star Web had left an hour or more ago.
Since he’d returned from the gloam mines, Maximilian had taken a variety of lovers. He had spent his youth and early manhood trapped in the mines, and once free he did not hesitate to enjoy the comfort and excitement of a woman in his bed.
But they never stayed the night.
One of Maximilian’s first lovers had been an accommodating lady of court. She was a sweet woman, and had taken it upon herself to teach Maximilian the skills that by rights he should have learned many years earlier. She had slept through the night at his side one time only (and that many months into their relationship), and in the morning had turned to him and said:
I think that the darkness is your true lover, Maximilian. I think you brought it with you out of the Veins. Perhaps you should wive the darkness, and not any flesh and blood woman.
That had stung Maximilian badly, and he’d never invited her back into his bedroom.
Now he lay on the bed, twisting the Persimius ring on his left hand over and over, thinking not so much about Ishbel, but about his parents. His father and mother had loved each other dearly, and their marriage had been strong.
But they had had separate bedrooms, and Maximilian suspected that his mother only spent a handful of entire nights with his father, and those, perhaps, only at the very beginning of their marriage.
Generally, she had preferred to sleep elsewhere than at her beloved husband’s side.
Maximilian’s lover had been wrong. It was not the Veins that had imbued Maximilian with his darkness, but something far older, and deeply embedded within the Persimius blood.
Maximilian sighed, finally admitting he could not sleep. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at his desk for a long time, then rose and walked over, lighting a lamp and scattering the documents regarding Ishbel Brunelle across the desktop with his fingers.
He paused as the folded map slid into view.
“By the gods, Vorstus,” Maximilian muttered, “my life would be so much simpler without you.”
Then he picked up the map and unfolded it.
At first glance the map was innocuous, showing the Central Kingdoms and the Outlands. Maximilian traced a finger over the Outlands, looking for Serpent’s Nest. He knew it was a mountain, and had supposed it was one of the summits within the Sky Peaks which ran down the western border of the Outlands.
He frowned as his initial scan of the map failed to reveal Ishbel’s home.
Then, increasingly irritated, he looked further afield, and finally spotted Serpent’s Nest on the very eastern seaboard of the Outlands.
Maximilian dropped the map and stepped back from the desk, staring at the desktop as if it contained the most vile of monsters.
Serpent’s Nest was what he knew as the Mountain at the Edge of the World.
It took Maximilian some minutes to bring his breathing back under control and to still his racing thoughts.
A coincidence, nothing more, surely. The Mountain at the Edge of the World must have been abandoned for thousands of years, it was not so strange that some others may have taken occasion to inhabit it.
But to be inhabited by an order devoted to a serpent god?
Maxel? said the Persimius ring. Maxel? What is the matter?
“Nothing,” Maximilian said automatically, still staring at the desk.
Is it about Ishbel? said the ring.
“No,” Maximilian responded, but wondered what it meant that this bride was coming to him from within the Mountain at the Edge of the World, now associated with a serpent.
No, no, surely not …
Maximilian turned on his heel and walked to one side of his bedchamber, which was clear of furniture. He stood, looking at the floor, then he leaned down.
As his hand approached the floorboards a trapdoor materialised. Maximilian hesitated, then grabbed the iron pull ring and hauled the door open.
The Persimius Chamber lay directly under Maximilian’s bedchamber. He rarely came here: several times when he was a boy and his father had been inducting him into the mysteries of the Persimius family; once, six months after he’d been restored to the throne and he’d felt he needed to check to ensure that all was still safe after seventeen years (Vorstus had told him Cavor had not been informed about the chamber); and once about a year ago, when some marriage negotiations had looked as though they might actually mature into fruition, and Maximilian had come to look at the mate to the ring he wore on his left hand that any wife of his would wear.
No one else ever came here. Only the king, his heir, and the Abbot of the Order of Persimius knew of its existence.
The Persimius Chamber was oval in shape, and relatively small. It contained two chest-high marble columns, each at opposing ends of the oval. Each column held a cushion, and each cushion cradled an object.
Maximilian walked first to the column at the western end of the oval chamber. It held an emerald and ruby ring, worn by the wives of the Persimius king.
My lover, said Maximilian’s ring, and Maximilian sighed, part in irritation and part in resignation, and, taking off his ring, laid it beside the emerald and ruby ring so they could chat for a while.
The Whispering Rings they were called, but only someone of Persimius blood could ever hear them, which Maximilian supposed was a good thing, as he knew his own cursed ring tended to mutter the most uncomplimentary things at the worst of moments.
What it murmured about StarWeb tonight, right at the peak of their lovemaking, had very nearly distracted Maximilian completely.
He looked at the rings, tuning out their whispering as he thought.
Ishbel came to him from the Mountain at the Edge of the World now called Serpent’s Nest. What did that mean? Coincidence? Or something deeper? Darker?
Maximilian knew