Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 35

It faded as the tower chamber swam back into view, as the daimone infesting her pulled her back into the dream, into the lie.

One step she took, toward the Sun, then a second agonizing step as Hugh winced in pain and she wanted to reach to him, to smooth anguish from his brow, to show him that he truly was her heart's desire. No one else. No one else fit for her.

A third step, like walking on broken gla.s.s, and she had crossed the plain. The inferno that was the sphere of the Sun began actually to burn the clothes off her body.

Scour herself clean. She wasn't afraid of fire. She never had been. The fire cut deeper, melting away her flesh, but that was not really her flesh but rather the daimone, writhing as the sun's fire forced it to twist out of her body. It fled down along a gleaming thread, back to Earth.

"d.a.m.n." Hugh's voice was almost lost in the crack of flame as the wall of fire rose in a sheet of brilliance in front of her.

Had it all been a lie? Or had she seen truths within herself, far down in those depths, that she could not bear to acknowledge? Wasn't it true, after all, that beneath the surface they shared a similar pa.s.sion? That she had more in common with Hugh than she had ever had with Sanglant?

The truth was too horrible to contemplate. Naked, she flung herself into the blazing furnace of the Sun.

NO doubt the old Dariyan Empire had fallen in large part because of the corruption that had ripened within the imperial house and burst at last in a final flowering of putrescence. Ancient images and obscene pagan carvings still fouled old corners and forgotten rooms in the skopos' palace. Not all had been chipped away and replaced by saintly figures more appropriate to a land presided over by the Daisanite church.

Corruption still insinuated its tentacles into the heart of earthly empire, whether spiritual or secular. That much was achingly apparent to Antonia as she sat at the Feast of St. Johanna the Messenger and watched King John, known as Ironhead, publicly molest the daughter of the Lady of Novomo, she who had harbored the fugitive Queen Adelheid last spring. The girl was barely into p.u.b.escence, in the first flush of development. Ironhead drank heavily and acted every bit the coa.r.s.e b.a.s.t.a.r.d he in truth was, even fondling the girl's small b.r.e.a.s.t.s through her gown. That she wept silently, tears coursing down her face at this humiliation, open for all to see, did not stop him. But Hugh did.

He called over a steward and whispered instructions into the man's ear. Soon enough, a trio of the king's wh.o.r.es-Ironhead had installed a dozen or more in his chambers-emerged to the sound of lute and drum. They were pretty young things, skilled in the art of lascivious dancing, something not meant to be viewed in such a public arena. Their antics would have made Antonia blush if she were not made of sterner stuff. She understood the attractions of the flesh though she had long ago strangled any such carnal desire in herself. It only got in the way.

Presbyter Hugh was no fool. He understood the weak stuff that Ironhead was made of. Once the king's attention had been caught by the obscene undulations of the dancing girls, Hugh sent the king's hostage away and subst.i.tuted another of the king's wh.o.r.es in her place. Ensnared in the grasp of wine and l.u.s.t, Ironhead either did not notice or in any case soon ceased to care.

The feast dragged on in this manner. Where were the pious readings of the book of St. Johanna, to remind the faithful of her apostolic journey and her n.o.ble martyrdom? None stood to sing psalms or to declaim from the Holy Verses. Feast days had always been celebrated with the solemnity they deserved in Mainni, when she had been biscop in that city. But the skopos lay dying and could not control Ironhead's excesses.

In the midst of the merrymaking, Hugh rose quietly and left. Antonia made haste to follow him. He had gone outside to the shelter of the colonnade. Scattered clouds made a patchwork of the night sky. A misting rain fell.

He was not alone. By the heavy scent of lilac, she knew that the womanly form leaning against him, embracing him, was one of the king's wh.o.r.es.

"He'll never notice I'm gone this one night," the young woman said in a breathless voice." I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you."

He set hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her away." I beg your pardon, Daughter. My heart is already given to another." She hissed, like a cat ready to claw." What's her name? Where is she?"

"Not walking on this Earth."

The wh.o.r.e began to snivel." I hate G.o.d for stealing you. You ought to be warming women's beds, not praying on cold stone."

"Don't hate G.o.d," he said gently." Pray for healing."

"What do I need healing for? You could heal me, if you'd come to me. Aren't I pretty? Everyone says so. All the other men desire me."

"Beauty doesn't last forever. When men no longer desire you, you'll be cast onto the street. Which will serve you better, Daughter? Men's l.u.s.t, or G.o.d's love?"

"It's all very well for you to babble piously about G.o.d's love! What other profession is open to me? My mother was a wh.o.r.e. There are at least five presbyters smirking like saints in the sko-pos' palace who might be my father, any one of them! What am I to do, a gir] like me, b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter of a wh.o.r.e, except be a wh.o.r.e in my turn? That's the only life I know. What respectable man would want someone like me?"

He didn't flinch under the a.s.sault of her scathing fury." I happen to know," he said quietly, "that there is a certain respectable sergeant of the guards at the skopos' palace who has a brother who is a tailor down in the city. That brother has had cause to visit the sergeant a time or two, and he saw you in the garden more than once. I expect he even makes excuses to come visit his brother in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you. But of course to his way of thinking, what chance has a common tailor like him with little enough to offer compared to the silks and wine given you in the king's suite?"

"His kin would all know I was a wh.o.r.e, and hate me for it," she muttered, but the edge of anger in her voice had muted. She sounded unsure of herself, afraid to hope." He's probably some ugly, leprous, wizened dwarf anyway, who can't get a decent wife."

"Ah, well. I happen to know he visits his brother every Ladys-day and that they attend Ma.s.s together in the servants' chapel."

"You lead that Ma.s.s," she said, surprised." Everyone knows you do. All the servants talk about it. But I know that the presbyters don't let wh.o.r.es into the church, the old hypocrites, poking their lemans in the nighttime and calling them nasty sinners during the day."

"When I lead Ma.s.s in the servants' chapel, no one is turned away, no matter what they have been in their past. No matter what they have done."

She knelt at his feet abruptly, bowing her head." I pray you, Father, forgive me. You know I'd do anything for you in return for your kindness and mercy."

"So be it, Daughter." He touched her on the head, his blessing, and she caught in a sob, jumped up, and hurried away.

It was too dark to see his face. He stood there for so long that Antonia wondered if he was on the verge of turning around and going back into the feasting hall. The bell tolled the end of Compline, and she recalled belatedly that she had other obligations. But she dared not move until he at last shook himself and walked away down the colonnade, returning to the skopos' palace. When she could no longer hear his footfalls, she followed that same path past the great hall and through the monumental court where king and skopos might meet to survey their troops in times of trouble. Her feet thudded quietly on the cobbled stone walkway. Light rain moistened her skin. A servant hurried past toward the hall, carrying a lamp and a basket, and a brace of presbyters hastened from their prayers to the promised joviality of the feast already in progress.

The wh.o.r.e's words stayed with her. Would these pious presbyters spend their nights in carnal pleasure, only to turn around the next day and condemn sinful humankind? Truly, G.o.d's creation had slipped to the very edge of the Abyss. It needed a firm hand to guide it back to holy ground.

The skopos' palace was a warren of chambers suitable for intrigue, or so it seemed to Antonia. Heribert might have corrected her; once, after he had spent a year in Darre studying at the palace schola, he had returned with many a boring explanation of how the palace had been built out of the remains of an old Dariyan emperor's residence, then expanded upon, partially destroyed in a fire, and rebuilt, only to be expanded again during the time of Taillefer.

But while Anne might keep secrets, she had not come to the skopos' palace to skulk about like a thief. She had already a suite of chambers suitable to a cleric of die highest rank and a bevy of servants and lesser clerics to serve her. By the time Antonia reached the innermost chamber of Anne's suite, where the Seven Sleepers met each week to discuss their progress, the others had already all arrived and taken their places. Polished silver cups gleamed under lamplight, and after servants poured wine, they retreated soundlessly and closed the doors, leaving Anne and her four companions alone.

"You are late, Sister Venia," said the Caput Draconis, she who sat first among them. That d.a.m.nable hound always lying at her feet growled.

"I beg your pardon. I lost my way again." "So do we all at times, alas. If you will sit, Sister Venia, then we may prepare ourselves."

The hound lifted its head to watch as Antonia sat on the bench next to Brother Marcus. He acknowledged her with a quirk of his lips, nothing more. He wore the presbyter's robe and cloak easily. Except for Anne, he had made the smoothest adjustment when they had fled south from the smoking ruins of Verna. Antonia still found the city of Darre confusing, a labyrinth of ancient ruins and modern timber buildings, courtyards and alleys, pastures and paved squares, and the palace compound a maze of corridors, chambers, and servants' pa.s.sages in which she often got lost even after all these months. Marcus had grown up here. To him, navigating in the skopos' palace was as natural as breathing.

"I am not sure he is the right person to ask to join us," Severus was saying." I don't trust him."

Marcus laughed sharply." Don't trust him because you fear he's ambitious, or because you're jealous of his influence over the Holy Mother and the college of presbyters?"

"I trust no person who uses beauty as a weapon to gain advancement," said Severus sourly." Nor should you."

"Beauty is not a weapon," said Meriam softly from her couch, "but a gift from G.o.d. It would be a sin to shroud that which G.o.d have molded."

"Women are always fools when thrown into the company of attractive men, or so I have observed," muttered Severus.

"Even if that is true," said Antonia, amused by the tenor of their conversation and especially by Severus's indignation, "we are but six when we must be seven. Hugh of Austra is bom of a n.o.ble line, he has Bernard's book, he studies sorcery, and he seems pious.

Must we cast away this opportunity to make our number whole again just because you don't trust his handsome face, Brother Severus?"

He grunted irritably." In my old monastery, we understood that vanity is a mortal sin."

Anne raised a hand for silence." Time is short, and our need is great." Three lamps burned in this richly furnished chamber, enough to light the table and elaborately carved benches at which they sat. Tapestries softened the walls, but the lamplight barely illuminated the shadowed images of the holy martyrdoms of St. Agnes and St. Asella, youthful girls who, in the early days of the church, had chosen death over marriage to nonbelievers." I saw last year at Werlida that Hugh had promise. That is why I let him take Bernard's book."

"You let him take it?" Severus sat back in outrage. He still bore scars on his face from the conflagration at Verna. Of all of them, except of course for poor dead Zoe, he had sustained the worst injuries." After all I had done to erase that knowledge so that we alone would possess it?"

"Of course. I could have prevented him from leaving with the book, but I chose not to. Now that I see what he has made of his opportunity to gain in knowledge, I know that I was right to do as I did then. He is clever, and he seems to have tempered his obsession for Liathano, which hindered his ability to learn and wax stronger in knowledge."

Antonia thought better of mentioning that illuminating episode in St. Thecla's Chapel. Secrets, like treasure, were best h.o.a.rded until that day when they could be spent most usefully by the one who possessed them.

"The new year is almost upon us," continued Anne, "and the rains will soon cease here in Aosta. Travel will be possible again. We must consider certain errands." The gold torque, signifying her royal lineage, winked at her throat, barely visible beneath the rich wine-colored robes she wore to mark her status as a member of the Holy Mother's innermost circle of counselors. It irked Antonia that Anne had simply walked into the skopos' palace early last autumn and by means unknown to Antonia had gotten herself seated at once at the Holy Mother's council table, especially since Antonia herself had been relegated to the schola as a mere cleric. But Anne's power was not to be trifled with, or challenged. Not yet, anyway." Sister Meriam, you must continue your work with Hugh of Austra."

"So I will," agreed Meriam from her couch." It is always a pleasure to work with a young man whose manners are elegant and whose understanding is quick rather than dead. It goes slowly because he will not let the book out of his grasp, and he is often busy with other matters in the palace. But in any case, I urge caution." She paused to catch her breath.

"Go on," said Anne after a suitable interval." This text Bernard bound into the middle of his book is not proving to be what I expected. If it goes on as it has begun, from what little we have translated so far, then it may prove more dangerous than any of us can know."

"Yet what we seek may still be found there. You must continue, Sister. If we cannot find the key to the Aoi crowns, through which they wove their magic, we will not be able to prevent the Lost Ones from returning."

"I will continue," said Meriam, her frail body almost hidden by shadows. The lamplight did not quite reach her." What of the other matter? What of the promises made to my son?"

Anne frowned as if she'd forgotten what she was about to say next, but the expression pa.s.sed quickly." That must wait until we see what transpires with Ironhead. King Henry's mind is closed to me, and his Eagles shroud him from my sight. Let us see what course events take before we act. Meanwhile, another serious matter must be dealt with. Brother Lupus is missing." "Do you suppose he is dead?" asked Severus." Do you hope he is?" asked Marcus with a smirk." You've never cared for Brother Lupus."

"A common-born man with no family to recommend him? And no respect for those born of n.o.ble kin?"

"I would know if Brother Lupus were dead," said Anne, thus ending the exchange." He is missing, and I cannot say why, nor can I find him when I seek him through fire or stone. Brother Marcus, you must seek him out. Rescue him if need be."

"Travel again! Sister Venia remains whole and hearty, and knows the northern kingdoms better than I do. My Wendish is a frail thing, easily fl.u.s.tered. She could go."

CHILD or FLAME "Sister Venia remains under ban in the northern kingdoms and might be recognized. It will be you, Brother Marcus."

He sighed." Very well."

Anne nodded. Her calm expression never altered. Why should it? Her wishes were never refused." There remains the unfinished business of my mother, Lavrentia, whom I thought long since dead. One among us must go to St. Ekatarina's Convent in Capar-dia. Without seven to bind a daimone to our will, we haven't the power to do what needs to be done, as we did with Bernard." There it came, the look that none could disobey." Therefore, it must be you who goes, Sister Venia."

Antonia sighed, an echo of Marcus' displeasure at having to leave the manifold comforts of the skopos' palace. She had eaten well this night at the Feast of St. Johanna the Messenger. But she knew better than to object." What am I to do there?"

"Gain the confidence of the sisters. Enter the convent as a guest. Discover what you can. When the opportunity arises, kill my mother."

Anne did not keep them much longer. Antonia had only postponed her hunt, not given it up. Once she was sure that the others had gone to their beds, she made her way to the suite of chambers reserved for the use of the skopos.

The carpeted anteroom leading into the skopos' bedchamber m.u.f.fled her footfalls, so she entered in silence and paused behind the concealing wooden screen. She scented magic at work here, a perfume like that of almonds. She always wore certain amulets to protect herself against the effects of bindings and workings, what she called common magic, as easily learned by an old wisewoman as by a n.o.ble cleric. Love spells, sleep spells, invisibility spells: these she had no fear of, and the scent of almond seemed to her like a veil, one that worked as a double-edged sword in her favor. If Hugh used common magics to conceal his intrigues, then he might just be arrogant enough to believe that no person in the skopos' palace was immune to them. Except Anne.

She peered out into the chamber. The presbyter sitting in attendance with Hugh had fallen asleep, snoring softly in a chair set against the far wall. Hugh was alone with the dying woman.

At first, Antonia thought he was actually spinning Mother dementia's soul out of her wasted body, a pale thread of light that writhed and curled in his hands. But she had lived in Verna long enough to recognize the aetherical form of a daimone. Marcus had been right: Hugh had bound a daimone and used it to control the skopos.

She had to admire his audacity and skill. After all, he was using his power for good. So what did it matter what means he employed?

Mother dementia sighed in her sleep. The pink color seeped out of her cheeks as Hugh wound the struggling daimone into a red ribbon. The skopos grayed, fading. Dying fast. Only the daimone had kept her alive for so long.

At last Hugh sat back, finished. The red ribbon in his hands twisted and fluttered like a live thing, and perhaps it was now that it contained a daimone. He concealed the ribbon in his sleeve and, to her surprise, slipped his precious book out from under the shelter of the skopos' featherbed. Antonia stepped back into the shelter of the angled screen as Hugh walked past her to the door, so lost in thought that he didn't even scan the shadows to make sure he hadn't been observed.

He pa.s.sed out of her sight, into the anteroom. She heard low voices outside. Brother Ismundus entered to take his place in Hugh's chair as the snoring presbyter startled awake, smiling as if from sweet dreams.

Antonia slipped out unnoticed. Hugh had already left the anteroom, but she had a good idea where he might be going.

She found him deep in prayer in St. Thecla's Chapel. This time, she made sure to examine closely the thresholds of the two adjacent doors that led up into the galleries. He had gone far beyond the crude bindings of cloth and dried herbs that common folk used to protect their henhouses from the depredations of foxes or to lure an unsuspecting sweetheart into falling in love. Like every threshold in the skopos' palace, meant to glorify G.o.d by the beauty of its ornamentation, these lintels had been carved by master artisans. As befit the chapel dedicated to St. Thecla, the vivid carvings represented cups and robes, her sigils. But when Antonia reached up to brush a finger over the shape of one of those cups, she felt the sting of magic on her skin. Hugh had glossed over the bright colors with a glaze. It stank of lavender and narcissus, harbingers of sleep and inattention. He had ground them into a paste and used a coating of them to disturb the disposition of any person who might climb to the gallery and thereby observe him.

But Antonia's mind remained clear. She took the narrow steps slowly, careful to miss the eleventh step, which creaked. The gallery was empty; everyone else was asleep, or at the feast.

But she was not entirely alone. Below, illuminated by a single lamp, knelt Hugh, golden head bowed in prayer.

Maybe she was getting a little obsessed with him. She would have to be careful. In part, she missed Heribert. She had always had someone to manage before, but of course she must never make the mistake of believing Hugh to be as manageable as Heribert. Not that Heribert had proved manageable in the end-d.a.m.n Prince Sanglant.

Below, Hugh whispered words too softly for her to understand. The ribbon twisted and wound around and through his fingers in a sensuous dance, one that, briefly, reminded her of that one dalliance, three months of carnal pleasure as luxurious as silk- All at once, the ribbon went slack. The daimone had escaped him. But he did not cry out. For a long, long time he knelt in intense concentration and with his eyes shut.

Now and again she caught sc.r.a.ps of words, whispers spoken as though to an unseen accomplice." Change does not come easily. Let me not speak of torment, who sinned so grievously... Fate guides her movements."

All at once, he threw back his head. By the light of that simple lamp she saw such a look of bliss transform his face that she might as well have caught him in the act of lovemaking.

Ai, G.o.d, if only she knew how to bind such emotion in, gather it all to herself. People were so weak, and so transparent. Even as cunning a man as Hugh in the end wasted his substance in the throes of ecstasy. Yet his yearning was as rich as cream, and she could not help but drink it down as his lips parted and he sighed as does a man who has at last achieved his heart's desire and the fulfillment of his most pressing physical need.

"Ai, Liath," he murmured, like a caress. Like rapture.

Antonia licked her lips.

He jerked back, eyes snapping open. He looked surprised, almost bewildered, but the moment pa.s.sed quickly and with a gri mace he gripped the ribbon tightly and shut his eyes again, mastering himself. The ribbon twisted weakly in his hands. A pale thread of aetherical light stabbed down, as though from the heavens, winding down along his arm and weaving itself back into the substance of the ribbon. The lamp flared hotly, and he winced in pain.

"d.a.m.n!" he swore as the ribbon came alive, contorting and thrashing like a snake trying to escape its captor, but he had too tight a hold on it as he murmured words of binding. For an instant she could actually see the bound daimone writhing within the confines of the silk ribbon before he tucked it away into his sleeve.

Standing, he was shaking, shaken by his unseen encounter, too distressed to take any notice of his surroundings as he tucked his book under his arm and hurried out of the chapel as though to escape an inferno.

He had learned to conceal from others the emotion that blazed in his heart. But Antonia knew how to watch and to listen, how to find out just those secrets that would serve her best when the time came, finally, for her to act. Anne's scope, for all her power, was too narrow. Anne thought only of the coming cataclysm, not of what could be built out of its ashes.

Antonia did not intend to make that mistake, but she knew she would have to have allies, whether willing or not.

Hugh did not return to the skopos' private chambers. He wandered by a roundabout and rather complicated way that led him, in the end, out along the parapet set on the cliff's edge, the high point of the Amurrine Hill on which stood the two palaces, symbols of the endless tension between spiritual and secular rule in Darre.

Here, in the waning days of the dying year, the night air had a fresh taste to it, the scent of change. In Aosta, the rains were drawing to a close. With the turn of the year, the rainy season would give way to the long drought that marked summer and early autumn. Meanwhile, in pots set at intervals along the wide parapet walkway, lilies and violets and roses had already begun to bloom. Some hopeful soul had hung myrtle wreaths from the tripods where lamps stood, their flames marking the path for anyone who walked abroad so close to dawn.

He made his way to one corner of the walkway, leaning far out over the waist-high wooden railing as though ready to test if he could fly. Wind whipped his robes around him, bringing them to life, or perhaps they, too, were being visited by a daimone coerced down from the spheres above.

The bell rang for Vigils, but here on the wall its call seemed unimportant compared to G.o.d's glorious creation laid out before them. The clouds had blown off to reveal the heavens in all their brightness.

She paused in a pool of darkness to look down toward the river running far below at the base of the hill. From this height, the shadowy ribbon of the river was glazed a silvery gray by the moon's last light. Almost full, the moon was setting now, So-morhas' bright beacon following behind. She studied the stars, pleased to find it easier to identify the constellations. Somorhas stood at the cusp of the Healer and the Penitent, in her bright aspect as the morning star. Red Jedu shone malevolently above, caught in the Sisters, who plot mischief, but steady Aturna shone within their house as well, with the promise of wisdom brought to their scheming.

He spoke unexpectedly, still staring out into the gulf of air." Nay, do not step out into the light. I know you come from Sister Anne. The king is coming, and it is better if he does not see you."

At once, so easily, her mastery was overset. Her heart pounded erratically, and for an instant she felt as might a hen, come face-to-face with the fox himself. Was it possible he'd known all along that she was following and observing him? She touched the amulets hanging against her breast, hidden by her cleric's robes, and breathed herself back into calm. Nay, he did not call her by name. Perhaps he had heard her, but he hadn't seen her face. He wasn't sure exactly who she was. Her scheming was still safe as long as Anne didn't suspect her.

Silent, she stayed hidden from his sight.

"Tell Sister Anne, if you please, that I have considered what she had to say. But she must understand that I am loyal to my king."

The heavy tread of agitated footsteps echoed up to her. Someone was climbing the outside stairs. She shrank farther back into the shadows. The bell began to toll again, ringing out seven strokes, the call of death. Another bell, in a distant chapel, took up the stroke, and then a third, an echo ringing through the city below, leaden and somber.

Ironhead strode onto the parapet, breathing heavily.

"Mother Clementia is dead!" Stopping in front of Hugh he set fists on hips as if he expected Hugh to take the blame." Now what are we to do? I need a skopos who will support me! You know how the n.o.bles all hate me."

"My lord king, it might serve you better if you did not abuse thirteen-year-old girls in the sight of your n.o.ble companions and a hundred church folk."

Ironhead spat on the plank walkway." I'll never win their love, so why should I temper what I do?"