The Serpent Bride. Sara Douglass
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Название: The Serpent Bride
Автор: Sara Douglass
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эзотерика
isbn: 9780007405824
isbn:
He certainly had done nothing to set the world afire since his restoration to the throne of Escator.
Ishbel had also steeled herself to accept the sexual intimacy of the marriage. She would endure, if that was what the Great Serpent needed of her.
Additionally, she would endure the necessity of deferring to her husband. She, the archpriestess of the Coil, who had hitherto bowed only before gods.
What Ishbel feared most was the actual leaving of Serpent’s Nest. It had been her only home, her entire world, for most of her life. The mountain was her safety and her comfort, and it shielded her from the horror of the world beyond.
For an instant a memory resurfaced of her mother’s whispering corpse, and Ishbel jerked a little, fighting to keep it at bay.
She was not looking forward at all to her journey to Margalit. Ishbel would be travelling only with a company of guardsmen from Margalit itself. No one from the Coil would be accompanying her. Ishbel understood the necessity for this. She needed to distance herself from them and become the Lady Ishbel Brunelle rather than the archpriestess of the Coil, and Ishbel could not do that if any of the Coil or their servants travelled with her.
There came a knock at her door, and Aziel entered. He came over to Ishbel and sat down beside her on the bed. Wordlessly he picked up her hand, kissed it, then kissed the side of her forehead.
“You will come back,” he said softly, and Ishbel blinked away her tears, and nodded.
She would return.
Since the night he’d looked at the map, Maximilian had either avoided Vorstus, or had avoided speaking to him alone. Maximilian simply did not want to give Vorstus the satisfaction of a reaction.
It irritated Maximilian that Vorstus had not simply come to him and said, “Maxel, an offer of a bride comes out of the Mountain at the Edge of the World. A woman associated with a serpent god, no less. What do you think about that, then?”
Instead, Vorstus had decided to play games.
It took Vorstus eight days before he knocked one evening at the door to Maximilian’s bedchamber as Maximilian was preparing for evening court.
Maximilian waved away the servants, then indicated Vorstus should take a chair. “What can I do for you, Vorstus? You are normally cloistered in your library at this time of night.”
“What did you think of Serpent’s Nest, Maxel?”
Maximilian tugged at the cuffs of his linen shirt, making sure they sat comfortably under his heavy velvet over jacket. “I’d wondered why you did not come to me directly, Vorstus, instead of cloaking this offer in mystery. You know more than you are saying. What?”
“All I know is what I have told you. No one was more shocked than I when I saw that Serpent’s Nest is what was anciently called the Mountain at the Edge of the World.”
Maximilian shot him a deeply cynical look. As Abbot of the Order of Persimius, Vorstus was privy to almost all of its secrets.
“All I know is what I have told you,” Vorstus repeated quietly.
“How coincidental that the Mountain at the Edge of the World is now dedicated to a serpent god.”
“Perhaps just a coincidence.”
Maximilian stopped fiddling with his attire and looked at Vorstus directly. “Is Elcho Falling stirring, Vorstus?”
“I don’t know, Maxel.”
“I am sick of hearing your ‘I don’t knows’!”
“I —”
“Listen to me, Vorstus. I know that you were instrumental in aiding my escape from the Veins, and for that you know I am grateful. But I am not going to spend my life mired in debt to you, nor am I going to put up with you stepping coyly about something that has the power to destroy this entire world. Gods! Have I not had enough darkness in my life? Or do the gods demand something else from me besides losing seventeen years, seventeen years, Vorstus, to those damned, damned gloam mines? Have I not suffered enough”
“If Elcho Falling is waking, Maximilian Persimius, then you must do what needs to be done.”
The patronising idiot, Maximilian thought. “Ah, get out of here, Vorstus.”
Maximilian waited until Vorstus had his hand on the door handle before speaking again.
“One more thing, Vorstus. You know of the Persimius Chamber?”
Vorstus gave a wary nod.
“You know what it contains?”
Another wary nod.
“But you never took Cavor there. You never inducted him into the deeper mysteries of the Persimius throne.”
Vorstus now gave a very reluctant single shake of his head, and Maximilian could see that his hand had grown white-knuckled about the door handle.
“I was standing in the Persimius Chamber the other night, Vorstus, and a strange unsettling thought occurred to me. Here you are, Abbot of the Order of Persimius, and the only one apart from the king and his heir who knows what truly underpins the Persimius throne. But for seventeen years, when everyone save Cavor thought me dead, you never once took the opportunity of inducting Cavor into the mysteries? Should you not have done that? I can perhaps understand you waiting a year or so, hoping for a miracle, but seventeen?”
“I always had faith that you —”
“You knew, for those entire seventeen years, Vorstus, that I was alive. That is the only reason you did not induct Cavor into the mysteries. You knew I was coming back.”
“I —”
“Get out, Vorstus. Get out!”
When the door had closed behind him, Maximilian walked to a mirror and stood before it, seeing not a reflection of himself, but of the bleakness that had consumed him within the Veins.
“You knew where I was,” Maximilian whispered, “and you left me there for seventeen years.”
Much later that night, still unsettled and unable to turn his mind away from Elcho Falling, Maximilian sat in his darkened bedchamber, rested his head against the high back of the chair, and closed his eyes.
As he had visited the Persimius Chamber on a previous night, so now Maximilian visited another of the mysteries his father had taught him.
The Twisted Tower.
The crown of Elcho Falling carried СКАЧАТЬ