style="font-size:15px;"> Rivkah nodded. “Thank you, RavenCrest. Those are kind – and welcome – words.” She hesitated. “I will stay until Beltide, celebrate that with you, and then return to Achar for a time. I do not know how long I will stay, or if I will find a home there.”
“Come,” RavenCrest said to his family. “I can hear the Assembly Chamber filling. It is time for us to robe. Axis must meet his people.”
Axis had lived among the Icarii for some three months now and had yet to meet the Icarii people as an assembly. For the first two months he had been so closeted with MorningStar and StarDrifter that he’d hardly seen anyone else, and for the past month his efforts with the Strike Force had kept him relatively isolated.
However, even though the greater proportion of the Icarii had yet to have the chance to make up their minds about Axis SunSoar, rumour and hearsay had spread like wildfire through the Talon Spike complex. If Axis spent two months closeted with MorningStar and StarDrifter it was because he was teaching them, not they teaching him. He was planning to throw the Strike Force at Gorgrael immediately after Beltide in revenge for the Yuletide attack, while a contrary rumour had Axis planning to drive south and capture Achar for the Icarii first. Five Icarii solemnly swore they’d personally seen the letter of surrender that Gorgrael had sent to Axis, addressed to Talon Spike, while another seven claimed to have seen a similar letter announcing that Gorgrael had been assassinated by a band of Ravensbundmen. Several Icarii women claimed that Axis had proposed marriage to them. One woman claimed to be bearing his child. Others still tried to determine which of the conditions of the Prophecy had been fulfilled and which still waited. Many wondered if RavenCrest had finally made up his mind regarding the succession. If not Axis, then who? A few talked of Azhure and her mastery of the Wolven, and one or two privately wondered if she were one of the Star Gods wearing mortal disguise, returned to play among the Icarii.
Raum sat with Azhure, talking quietly on a tier several rows below those the Strike Force would take. Azhure had hardly seen the Avar Bane in recent months; he had been so busy with his study in the Icarii library and his teaching of the Icarii children.
“What do you think will happen tonight?” Azhure whispered, her eyes on the fidgeting Icarii population squeezed into the benches of the Chamber. She wore a vivid crimson gown, draped low over her shoulders and sashed with deep emerald, her hair loose down her back, making her normally exotic appearance even more striking than usual. Many Icarii eyes had followed her entrance into the Chamber.
Raum smiled at her, his liquid brown eyes gentle. “Who knows, Azhure. Tonight Axis must either win the Icarii or lose them. He will have no other chance.”
“Raum!” Azhure exclaimed. “They cannot refuse him! Can they?”
Raum squeezed her hand reassuringly. “No-one can ever tell what the Icarii will do in Assembly, Azhure. They are a flighty lot and can stampede in entirely the wrong direction.”
“But Raum, in the Assembly after Yuletide, didn’t the Icarii vote to accept Axis as the one to lead them through the battles ahead?”
Raum smiled wryly. “That’s not the exact thing they voted on, Azhure. That was discussed, yes, and many agreed to it, but the actual vote was taken on whether or not to open negotiations with Axis in Gorkenfort. The Icarii love to meet and argue, but they are very bad at actually making decisions.”
Azhure muttered something about the Icarii under her breath as Raum continued. “But it helps that Axis has already gained control of the Strike Force, Azhure. The Icarii will respect that. At the least he will address them as Strike-Leader.” Raum’s eyes flickered up to the empty benches of the Strike Force. He smoothed down his dark-green robe. Where were they? Were they not going to support Axis?
As if in answer to his thought there was a rustle of movement, and the various Wings of the Strike Force began to emerge from each of the archways, filing their way silently into their places.
Their appearance stunned the Icarii who crammed the benches below. As necks craned, mouths dropped open.
“What?” Raum gasped. “What is that they wear?”
Azhure’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction.
Not only had the entire Strike Force dyed their wings in the ebony of war, but now all wore ebony uniforms of slim-fitting wool as well.
“Axis said he wanted to turn the Strike Force from birds of paradise into hawks,” Azhure said, her eyes fixed on the Strike Force. “At least now they look the part.”
But it was not their dark and imposing presence, stunning as it was, that made the real impact. Every member of the Strike Force wore a blazing blood-red sun embroidered into the chest of his or her uniform. Wing-Leaders were distinguished by a tracery of gold outlining the blazing sun, Crest-Leaders by a smaller circle of golden stars.
“The blazing sun is the symbol of the House of SunSoar,” Azhure explained, “and the blood-red sun is Axis’ own.”
“You devised it for him?”
Azhure nodded. “And he accepted it, although he does not yet know that the Strike Force now wear it. I approached FarSight with the idea.”
And he obviously agreed, thought Raum. If nothing else this will indicate to the Icarii population that the Strike Force stands totally united behind Axis. Again he looked at the woman beside him, her face serene as she gazed at the Strike Force. Did the Prophecy place her in Smyrton for a purpose? Raum wondered. Was it simple coincidence that in Smyrton I should find a woman who would save myself and Shra from death, a woman who would later show the way to save many of the Icarii and Avar from slaughter at Yuletide, a woman who could master the Wolven when in four thousand years only one of the Icarii could, a woman who could plan this stunning show of support for Axis? Coincidence? Hardly. There were so many small things about Azhure that didn’t add up. He remembered how, during the last Assembly, Azhure had understood the ancient Icarii tongue that StarDrifter had sung in, a language that Raum had mastered only after many years of hard study.
Who are you, Azhure? Raum wondered. What are you?
Five rows below him sat the two Sentinels, Ogden and Veremund. Both had discarded their dirty habits and were dressed in slightly more becoming robes, and both were looking at Azhure with exactly the same amount of speculation as Raum. The sense of deep familiarity they experienced whenever they met the woman puzzled them. It was as if they had known her most of their lives. And the Sentinels had lived very, very long lives. This was no simple peasant girl from Smyrton, caught up in events that were spinning her out of control. No, they thought not. Who was this woman who walked so effortlessly through prophecy?
Contemplations were cut short by the entrance of the Elders and Enchanters who took their seats on the lower tiers.
The Assembly held its collective breath, all eyes on the small door that led to the robing room. No-one spoke, not a feather was ruffled to destroy the silence.
The SunSoar women came out finally and took their seats; BrightFeather first, as befitted the wife of the Talon, then MorningStar, Rivkah and EvenSong who, through virtue of her connection with the royal House of SunSoar, sat with them tonight rather than the Strike Force. All the women wore various combinations of the royal violet, intertwined with gold and ivory. The colour combination looked particularly striking on EvenSong with her violet eyes and golden underwings.
There was a movement in the doorway and seventy thousand eyes shifted as one towards the figure who now entered.
It
