The Serpent Bride. Sara Douglass
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squaring her shoulders, determined in her decision. “I will tell Aziel that I was mistaken, that I misinterpreted the Great Serpent’s words, that —”
Ishbel, do as I have asked.
Ishbel froze in the act of moving towards the opening that led to the stairwell.
Very slowly, so slowly she thought she could hear the bones in her neck creak, Ishbel looked up towards the distant peak of the mountain.
An apparition of the Great Serpent writhed there: the setting sun glinted off his black scales and shimmered along the fangs of his slightly open mouth. His head wove back and forth, as if tasting the wind, then he slowly wound his way down the mountain towards Ishbel.
Do as I ask, Ishbel.
Ishbel could not move, let alone speak.
The Great Serpent wound closer, sliding between rocks and through cracks with ease until his head hung some ten paces above Ishbel.
Do as I ask.
Ishbel was recovered from her initial shock. The Great Serpent had occasionally appeared to her, but it had been when she was a young child and still wept for her mother. Then he had come to comfort her. Now, it seemed, he was here to ensure Ishbel did as he wished. Given that Ishbel had just spent some long minutes silently fuming at the idea she should have to subject herself to the wishes of a husband, the idea that the Great Serpent was here to force her to his will irritated her into a small rebellion.
“I cannot see how marriage to Maximilian would help, Great One. We need armies, warriors, magicians —”
I need you to marry Maximilian Persimius. Ishbel, do as I bid.
Ishbel’s mouth compressed. “One of the other priestesses, perhaps. I —”
The Great Serpent’s mouth flared wide in anger, and his tongue forked close to her hair. Ishbel —
Then, stunningly, another voice, a male voice, and one much gentler than that of the Great Serpent.
Ishbel, you need not fear.
Ishbel spun about, looking to the stone balustrading. An oversized frog balanced there, its body so insubstantial she could see right through it to the sea beyond.
A frog, but one such as she had never seen previously. He was very large, as big as a man’s head, and quite impossibly beautiful. This beauty was mostly due to his eyes, great black pools of kindness and comfort.
He shifted a little on the balustrade —
Almost as if he balanced on the rim of a goblet …
— unconcerned about the precipitous drop behind him.
Ishbel, he said, listen to my comrade, no matter how distasteful you think his directive, He is arrogant, sometimes, and uncaring of the fragility of those to whom he speaks.
“I am not fragile,” Ishbel said, almost automatically. This apparition was a god also: she could feel the power emanating from him, and she sensed that perhaps he was even more potent than the Great Serpent. It was a different power, though. Far more subtle, more gentle.
Compassionate.
For some reason Ishbel’s eyes filled with tears. It was almost as if the frog god could see into her innermost being, where she still wept for her mother, and where she still shook with terror from the whisperings of her mother’s corpse.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice soft and deferential now, where she had been irritated with the Great Serpent.
Above her head the Great Serpent gave a theatrical sigh. A companion through a long journey, Ishbel. My aquatic friend here keeps watch on the ancient evil to the south whereas I, it seems, must spend my time seeing that my archpriestess does her duty as she is bound. There was a moment of silence. I can’t think what he does here.
Ishbel felt amusement radiating from the frog.
I feared that if you got too dramatic, my serpent friend, the frog said, Ishbel might be forced to throw herself from this balcony in sheer terror at your persuasive abilities.
Ishbel bit her lip to stop her smile. For a moment the frog god’s eyes met hers, and she felt such a connection with him that her eyes widened in surprise.
You are not alone, the frog said, into her mind alone. We may not meet for a long time, but you are not alone.
“Must I marry this man?” Ishbel said.
Yes, said the frog. It shall not be a terror for you, for he is a gentle man. Do not be afraid.
Your union with this man is vital, said the Great Serpent. Allow nothing to impede it. You will do whatever you must in order to become Maximilian Persimius’ wife. Whatever you must!
He paused, then added in a gentler tone, You will return to Serpent’s Nest, Ishhel. It shall he your home once again.
Then, as suddenly as both the frog god and the Great Serpent had appeared, they were gone, and Ishbel was left standing alone on the balcony high above the Infinity Sea.
She waited a moment, gathering her thoughts, still more than a little unsettled by the appearance of not one but two gods. Then she went down the stairwell to Aziel, to whom she said she had changed her mind, and that she would, after all, marry this man, Maximilian Persimius.
She did not tell Aziel of her meeting with the Great Serpent, nor of her encounter with the compassionate and hitherto unknown frog god.
In the morning Aziel met with Ishbel again. He would not have been surprised to learn she had changed her mind yet again, but to his relief, and his pride, she remained resolute.
“I will marry this Maximilian,” she said. “I will do what is needed. After all, has not the Great Serpent said that I will return to Serpents Nest eventually? This shall be a trial for me, yes, but marriage cannot be too high a price to pay for saving Serpent’s Nest and the Outlands from the ravages of both Skraelings and ancient evils.”
That was a pretty speech, Aziel thought, and well prepared, and he wondered if it was less for him than for Ishbel herself.
Perhaps Ishbel believed that ij she repeated it enough times, over and over, the words would take on the power of prophecy.
“When the Great Serpent sent me to fetch you from Margalit,” Aziel said, “he told me that you would eventually need to leave — perhaps even then he foresaw this disaster. And it is true enough he said you would eventually return.” He smiled. “I hope you will not stay too long away, Ishbel.”
“I also hope I shall not stay away long,” she said, and Aziel laughed a little at the depth of emotion behind those words.
“Besides,” Ishbel continued, “perhaps Maximilian of Escator will not accept me.” She paused. “There would be few men willing to wed an archpriestess of the Coil, surely.”
“Ah,” said Aziel, “but I do not think we shall be offering him the archpriestess, eh? You are a rich noblewoman in your own right, and I think it is as the Lady Ishbel Brunelle that you should meet your new husband. We shall call you … let me see … ah yes, we shall call you a ward of the Coil. That should do nicely.”
THE ROYAL PALACE, RUEN, ESCATOR
Maximilian Persimius, King of Escator, Warden of Ruen, Lord of the Ports and Suzerain of the Plains, preferred to keep as many of his royal duties as informal as possible. He met with the full Council of Nobles thrice a year, and the smaller Privy Council of Preferred Nobles once