Ravenna stood in the tent she shared with her mother and Maximilian. She had not returned immediately to this tent after Maximilian had left her, but had walked a while in the night, thinking.
“Maximilian acknowledged you before Ishbel?” Venetia said. She was a striking woman, in her dark coloring and beauty much like her daughter, but with more warmth about her eyes and mouth.
Ravenna folded a blanket from the bed she shared with Maximilian, then shook it out and began folding it over again. “Yes.”
She glanced at her mother and gave a small smile. “You are surprised.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well—I think he regrets it now. We argued over Ishbel, and he walked away from me, angry. I think he went back to her. Has he come here?”
Venetia shook her head. “Ravenna, you can’t stand between those two, even with that child you are carrying.”
“Mother, I have no choice. I—”
“Why? Why? Ravenna, I do not understand this desperate clinging to a man! No marsh witch needs a man the way you seem to want to cling to Maximilian!”
Venetia stopped, took a deep breath and moderated her tone. “Maximilian loves Ishbel and is uncomfortable with you as his lover—you must know this. None of this makes sense to me.”
Ravenna took her mother’s hand, and they sat down on the edge of the bed.
“When I first came back from the Land of Dreams, that night of the storm, I appeared on your doorstep with Maximilian and StarDrifter. Remember?”
Venetia nodded.
“We talked,” Ravenna said. “I told you that I’d felt something darker coming, something from another world.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I said I felt as if the world was about to pull apart.”
“Yes.”
“I was not entirely honest with you. I did not tell you all I had seen or come to understand.”
Ravenna paused, choosing her words carefully. “Maximilian and Elcho Falling, and through them this land, are under dire threat, Mother. There is something coming, something vile, something which will wrench apart this entire world.”
“Ravenna—”
“Ishbel is its servant. Not willingly, nor even consciously, but in some manner she is the catalyst of disaster. If Maximilian takes her back as wife…I am not sure how, nor even why, but if he does that, then he is lost, and Elcho Falling is lost, and all falls into catastrophe.”
Ravenna gently stroked her mother’s hand. “That is why I act as I do. That is why I fight to keep Maximilian away from Ishbel, and why, in the end, I conceived this child. I do not know if Maxel is strong enough to resist Ishbel’s dangerous charm. Tonight he kept turning back to her, so I took him into the Land of Dreams and showed him what had been shown to me.”
“And?”
“He was angry. I showed him what he did not want to know. He turned from me and walked away.”
“Ravenna…” Venetia did not know how to put what she needed to say. “Maximilian is a powerful man, one who knows his own mind. You can’t force him to do anything.”
“I know, and that is why I am terrified he won’t listen to me.”
“Ravenna, you said the child…you conceived the child because you were afraid that you would not, in the end, be able to keep Maximilian from Ishbel. How does the child help?”
“How? This is a son I carry, Mother. Maximilian’s heir. The next Lord of Elcho Falling should Maximilian fail. Or be tempted into ruination.”
That pronouncement stunned Venetia into a momentary silence. Marsh women ensured they only ever conceived daughters. They had no use for male children, their world being an entirely feminine one, save for those occasions when they went to men to get with child.
“A son? What use do you have for a son, Ravenna?”
“Not for me, mother. For Elcho Falling. A new lord, should Maximilian fall.”
Venetia stood up, pulling her hand from Ravenna’s grasp. She moved to stand by the brazier and held out her hands, as if she were cold.
As indeed she was. Cold penetrated to the very depths of her soul, but Venetia did not think the heat from the brazier would help that chill.
What in the name of all gods was Ravenna doing? She thought to toy in something that was far, far beyond her, and Venetia did not like to think of the consequences.
Ravenna rose to her feet and moved to where Maximilian had left his pack. She rummaged within it for a moment, Venetia turning to watch her, then she straightened, a bundle in her hands.
“Ravenna! You cannot take the Weeper!”
“It is too dangerous to leave in Maximilian’s hands. This bronze statue contains a great and powerful mystery, and may aid me to…oh!”
Venetia came over. “Ravenna? What happened?”
“The damn thing hissed at me!”
“Leave it, Ravenna! The Weeper is not yours, nor is Elcho Falling’s destiny your concern. Why can’t you see sense?”
Ravenna hugged the cloth-wrapped bronze statue close, even though its hissing was now distinctly audible. “I am going to do everything I can, Mother, to ensure that Elcho Falling—”
“Put that down.”
Both women turned to face the tent entrance.
Maximilian stood there, one hand still holding back the flap of canvas that served as a door. “Put it down, Ravenna.”
“Maxel,” Ravenna said, “I was just—”
“Put it down!”
She held his eyes for a long moment, then very quietly and with great deliberation laid the Weeper on the bed.
Maximilian walked forward, retrieved the Weeper, then brushed past Ravenna to where his pack lay to one side of the bed.
“Did Ishbel take you back?” Ravenna said.
“I didn’t go to Ishbel,” he said, keeping the Weeper under one arm as he stuffed a few shirts that were draped over a chair into his pack. “I went to talk to Axis and Isaiah.”
“About?” Ravenna said.
“About matters we needed to discuss!” Maximilian snapped, throwing the pack over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Ravenna said.
“I’m moving into my command tent. You and Venetia can keep this one. This camp is moving onto a war footing and I don’t have time for—”
“Me?” Ravenna said.
Maximilian looked at her, very steadily, then allowed his eyes to drop deliberately slowly to the Weeper. “For disloyalty, Ravenna.”
“It is Ishbel who—”
“It was not Ishbel who just tried to take the Weeper!” Maximilian moved toward the door. “Serge and Doyle will be tending me. One of them will collect the rest of my belongings.”
He paused in the doorway, looked at Ravenna a moment, nodded at Venetia, and left.
“You pushed too hard,” Venetia said, “and assumed too much. He’s gone now.”
Ravenna shot her a dark look before sitting abruptly on the bed.
Axis slept for four or five hours before he rose, washed perfunctorily, and dressed.
It had been a little over twenty-four hours since Maximilian had declared himself as the Lord of Elcho Falling to Isaiah’s army and the tattered remnants of Georgdi and Malat’s forces. A great deal had happened since and Axis wanted to scout the camp to get a sense of what the soldiers—and more particularly Isaiah’s generals—thought and were doing. Loyalties continued to balance on a knife edge, and Axis needed to know which way they teetered.
The camp appeared fairly quiet, which reassured him. Men were going about the usual business of soldiers in camp; there were no tight groups of whispering men, no furtive eyes sliding away from Axis’, no glaring gaps in the tent lines where men had decamped through the night.
He paused in amazement when he saw the blue tent with the pennant fluttering above it. He recognized the symbolism instantly—Ishbel—and he also recognized the man standing outside the entrance to the tent.
Madarin, the soldier Ishbel had healed of a twisted bowel when Axis had escorted Ishbel south from the FarReach Mountains. That occasion had been when Axis had become very aware that Ishbel had been far more than just a “ward” of the Coil.
“Madarin,” Axis said amiably, strolling over, “I see you have found new duties.”
“Lady Ishbel saved my life; it belongs to her. She called me to her service last night.”
Axis nodded at the tent. “Ishbel is inside?”
“Asleep, my lord.”
“I do not wish to disturb her, Madarin. Tell me, how does she?”
“Well, my lord.”
“Hmmm.” Axis stared at the tent again. “Where did this come from?”
Madarin explained how Isaiah carried a spare ceremonial tent with his military column.
“And the positioning of it?” Axis said. The tent was erected right at the edge of the main encampment, close to the tents of Maximilian, StarDrifter, Isaiah, and most of the other senior members of the army, as well as the large tent Isaiah—and now Maximilian—used for command briefings and meals. Yet Ishbel’s tent was set slightly apart. Not much, but just enough to lend whoever inhabited it a certain eloquent and mysterious reserve…and command.
“I chose this location,” Madarin said.
“Then you have done well for your lady,” Axis said. “The pennant?”
“I stitched it for the lady myself,” Madarin said.
Axis opened his mouth to comment, saw Madarin’s face, and decided it better to leave doing so. He gave the soldier a nod of farewell.
As he moved through the encampment Axis paused and spoke briefly to several men, stopping to have a longer conversation with Insharah, the man with whom he’d ridden north from Aqhat to collect Ishbel. Insharah was now a senior commander within the Isembaardian force, having proved himself over this past year more than capable of promotion. He was still a good friend of Axis’, however, and as such he was Axis’ best conduit back into the heart and soul of the Isembaardian force.
“Tell me the mood,” Axis said, once they had exchanged greetings.
“One of shock,” Insharah said. “First this Maximilian, who had spent so many weeks trailing along with the column as a captured king, declaring himself lord of this or that and taking control of the army from Isaiah. Maximilian is a complete unknown, and what we’d seen of Isaiah had not suggested to us that he would just hand control of the entire army to Maximilian. No one quite knows what to make of it, Axis, or what to think.
“But worse was the news that Isembaard has been overrun by some army of…wraiths. Everyone is concerned about their families. Myself included.”
Insharah paused to give Axis a sharp look. Insharah had a wife and children in Aqhat, just across the River Lhyl from DarkGlass Mountain where, apparently, this ghostly army gathered.
“I can give you no assurances,” Axis said, “save this small hope. The Skraelings loathe water. It will take them days, if not weeks, to summon the courage to cross the Lhyl. I hope that will give people enough time to evacuate.”
“Evacuate where?”
“Either up through the Salamaan Pass or down south, to the Eastern Independencies.”
Insharah shook his head slightly. “If this Maximilian wants our loyalty, Axis, then he shall need to assure us that our families are safe. If we don’t get that assurance, I cannot answer for how many men might decide to aid their families themselves.”
Axis nodded, understanding. He rested a hand on Insharah’s shoulder, thanked him for his honesty, and moved on. He walked down to the area where Isaiah’s generals had their tents. There were the usual activities going on that he would have expected: some empty dishes being carried out of Kezial’s tent, while Kezial’s body servant was busy washing his master’s linen in a tub to one side of Kezial’s tent.
Axis moved toward Armat’s tent—the youngest general was, in Axis’ opinion, the most dangerous of them—when there came the sound of footsteps behind him. Axis turned about. It was a soldier that he recognized as one of Insharah’s men, with a message that Axis was wanted at one of the horse lines.
Axis strode off, missing the look of sheer relief that crossed the face of the guard outside Armat’s tent.
An hour after Axis had risen, Ravenna slipped quietly through the flap of Maximilian’s command tent.
If Maximilian wouldn’t, or couldn’t, repudiate Ishbel completely, then Ravenna needed to know it—and be able to plan from there. As in taking Maximilian into the Land of Dreams to show him the vision which haunted her, Ravenna knew she was likely pushing too hard, but she needed to do this badly enough to risk the consequences.
Maximilian was asleep on a camp bed. Serge, one of the two Emerald Guardsmen who had accompanied Maximilian on his journey from Escator into Isembaard, rose from the stool where he’d been sitting by the brazier. Ravenna nodded toward the door.
Serge hesitated, then left.
She let out a small sigh. She still had enough influence for that, at least.
Ravenna pulled a chair over to where Maximilian continued to lie sleeping, then put a hand on his shoulder and shook gently.
“Ravenna?” Maximilian murmured, blinking sleepily and rising on one elbow.
“Why are you cutting me off, Maxel?”
Maximilian sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Look, Ravenna—”
“What have I done wrong?” Ravenna knew as soon as the words were out that they were ill-advised. She wished futilely she could snatch them back.
“Apart from trying overhard to run my life for me? Apart from trying to steal the Weeper, probably in order to force me to your wishes?”
“Maxel, I know I shouldn’t have tried to take the Weeper, but—”
“Ravenna, at the moment I need to concentrate fully on gaining complete control of this army. There are hundreds of thousands of men gathered about this tent, and as many in the provinces behind us, all weaponed and ready for war, none of whom trust me. I don’t have time—”
“For me?” Damn it! Now she was acting like a hysterical tavern wench abandoned by her soldier lover.
“I don’t have time for your games, Ravenna.”
They stared at each other silently at that, and Ravenna wondered that such a distance could have opened between them in such a short time.
It was Ishbel’s fault. “I see Ishbel has found herself a bright new home,” Ravenna said, referring to the tent she’d seen on her way to Maximilian’s command tent. By the gods of dreams, such ostentation! “Did you give her that?”
Maximilian had noticed the tent earlier when he’d gone out just before dawn. “No, I did not procure that tent for Ishbel. But she has every right to it. She is a Persimius, and central to both the raising of Elcho Falling and the fight against…whatever it is we face.”
Unlike myself, Ravenna thought. “You will need to make it clear to her that you will not take her back as your wife. You—”
“Oh, for gods’ sakes, Ravenna, stay out of this! Let it go!”
“You know why I cannot do that.”
Maximilian rose, pulling on a pair of trousers with sharp, angry movements. “You are doing yourself no favors.”
“As neither are you.” Ravenna stopped. “I’m sorry, Maxel. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Ishbel doesn’t concern you, Ravenna. Leave her alone.”
Ravenna sat silently as Maximilian pulled on his boots and then a shirt and jerkin.
“She will kill you, Maximilian,” she said eventually.
“Stay away from her. I can look after myself well enough.” Maximilian sat back down on the bed. “Look, I am sorry if I have given you to understand that you and I…that we…” He stopped and sighed. “We should have talked about this a long time ago.”
Ravenna gave a short, humorless laugh. “You do not need to put it into words, Maximilian Persimius. I can see the lie of the land well enough. All I want for you, Maxel, is a bright future. I did not save you from the Veins only to lose you to that witch, Ishbel.”
Maximilian’s eyes darkened at that last. “Is that what the child was for, then? Just another means to keep me from Ishbel? Another weapon to use against her?”
“This child,” Ravenna said, “is Elcho Falling’s future.”
“Only if I recognize it as such,” Maximilian said very quietly, then grabbed his cloak and left the tent.