Keep?”
“Why should you want to leave?”
Why indeed? Zenith almost said, “Because of WolfStar”, but stopped, knowing she couldn’t explain to Drago, let alone herself, her deep-seated fright of the Enchanter, her unsettling visions, or her recurring gaps in consciousness.
“Because there is a world of purpose out there,” she said eventually, “and because neither of us has a purpose in here.”
“If I have no purpose it is because my life has been made deliberately purposeless! I am not trusted enough to be given the responsibility of a purpose.”
“Then why not leave, Drago? StarDrifter would enjoy seeing both of us.”
He looked at her, his violet eyes soft, almost gentle in this light, and she knew he was remembering the image of StarDrifter she had conjured up, and the happy months they had spent on the Island of Mist and Memory as children.
“I have no purpose anywhere,” he finally said, his voice weary with resignation. “Wherever I go I will always be the vile traitor.”
“You can remake your life if you leave Sigholt. Please, Drago.”
He seized her shoulders, and Zenith was astounded to see tears in his eyes. “I can never escape, Zenith! Never! Word would spread that Axis’ untrustworthy and evil son Drago is travelling the land. Doors everywhere would be closed to me. I have no life here in Sigholt, but I would have no life anywhere. Now, will you leave me alone?”
And he strode from the kitchen.
Even more troubled now, Zenith climbed to the rooftop of Sigholt. She stood and watched the lights shut out one by one in the town of Lakesview on the other side of the lake. She let the warm breeze caress her, and briefly contemplated a flight over the lake and hills. But she was tired, her mind full of problems, and she preferred just to lean over the wall of the roof and let the view soothe her.
Determined not to think of WolfStar, or Zared and Leagh’s troubles, or even of Drago, Zenith fixed her thoughts on RiverStar’s claim to have found a new lover. And one she might wed? Zenith almost laughed aloud. Maybe her lover considered marrying RiverStar, but Zenith doubted seriously that her sister would ever go that far. She enjoyed her freedoms too much to discard them for fidelity.
Unless … unless her lover were SunSoar. A SunSoar might well tempt RiverStar, but who was available to her here in Sigholt if not first blood?
Zenith frowned. FreeFall … but FreeFall was impossible. He and his wife EvenSong were virtually inseparable, and EvenSong was here with him. Besides, who could ever think of FreeFall and RiverStar … no, that was laughable. Surely.
And WolfStar. WolfStar was here – how much longer had he been about before he made his presence known? His penchant for disguises was legendary. If he was RiverStar’s new lover, had he been coming to her in the guise of a stableboy, or himself?
No, no, not WolfStar. Zenith did not want to think of him at all.
Although remember the way he’d kissed RiverStar this morning; was that boldness, or familiarity?
Isfrael! Zenith forced her mind as far from WolfStar as she could. Was Isfrael first blood? She supposed he was, for he and RiverStar shared a SunSoar father. But then Isfrael had changed so much since he’d become Mage-King of the Avar that it was as if his SunSoar link was gone.
Although he still had the blood to satisfy RiverStar, if indeed it were him.
No, surely not Isfrael. He had only been here since this morning … hadn’t he? When had Isfrael arrived?
“Oh, for the sweet Stars’ sakes,” Zenith murmured. “RiverStar is probably just making it all up, anyway.”
She looked down to the far courtyard, her Enchanter vision having no trouble picking out every detail in the thick night shadow. A guard moved from barrack to gate, another checked the doors to the weapons room off the main building.
A movement. Drago. Zenith sharpened her vision, then smiled gently, her eyes soft. He was feeding scraps of meat to the courtyard cats. Five or six had gathered, mewling about his legs, reaching up to pat his knees with their paws. He laughed, and squatted down to scratch them, their heads butting against his arms and chest affectionately.
Zenith had never realised he liked cats so much – nor that they so obviously adored him. All the food was gone, but still they stayed, winding about him. Her face softened yet more. Someone besides herself in this great Keep liked the man.
Drago stood up, extracted himself from the cats, and stepped back inside.
Zenith watched for a few more minutes, but he did not reappear. She sighed, and moved to the parapets that overlooked the lake, resting her elbows on the wall, her chin in her hands, lost in thought.
Sigholt was now completely quiet. The dogs were curled in sleep, the guards seemed to have turned to stone at their posts.
Silence and stillness reigned.
Zenith felt as if she had been transported to another world. Even the breeze had disappeared.
Her wings relaxed and drifted over the flagstones behind her. She sank into a greater lethargy, leaning her full weight on the wall, watching the waves ripple across the moonlit Lake of Life.
Zenith did not notice the tiniest of movements in the air about her, nor catch the enchantment that rippled over the rooftop.
“I find it not strange that I have discovered you atop Sigholt,” WolfStar said, and she whirled around, her heart pounding.
He stood relaxed and easy, his wings drooping behind him in the traditional Icarii gesture of goodwill. “For so once StarDrifter found Rivkah, and loved her, and so Axis once found Azhure, and loved her, too. No, do not lift off. Stay and talk to me, Zenith. You have nothing to fear.”
Then why does my heart race so, Zenith thought, and my breast heave with such fright? She steadied herself, although her eyes flickered about, seeking the reassurance of another person close by.
There was no-one save her and WolfStar.
A movement above her, against the Dome.
Zenith gasped, her eyes involuntarily jerking upwards. There was nothing there save the swirling stars. Nothing.
“Do you remember, sweet Zenith,” WolfStar said very softly, “when last you saw me? Do you remember that night so long ago?”
A shadow spiralling down from the roof of the Dome.
“No,” Zenith whispered, grabbing at the parapets for support. “No! We have never met before this morning!”
Something was happening. The night air of Sigholt was swirling about her, and every few heartbeats it seemed to solidify until she felt as if she were inside … inside an empty building … a dome.
