more, as the need dictates. Let me know what Maximilian says, why don’t you, when he finally looks at that map.”
The rose pyramid dulled, then died.
Lister stood in the central chamber of his castle of Crowhurst and stared as his own pyramid dulled into lifelessness on the table. He sighed, and turned away, walking to the open window to look out.
Beyond stretched a vast wasteland of frost and low, snow-covered rolling hills. The northern wastes were a desolate place, but they suited Lister’s purpose for the time being, and for the time being he needed to be here. He shuddered, more from the cold than from any direction of his thoughts, and he reached out and closed the windows, revealing tattoos of black serpents crawling up both his forearms.
Kanubai’s ancient foe, Light, had taken the form of Lister some forty-five years ago when it had become apparent to both Light and Water that Kanubai’s prison had begun to fail. Light and Water needed mortal shape now, for the battle to come would be of the physical rather than the ethereal. While they had taken the flesh of men, Light also, from time to time, and as it amused him, took on the ethereal form of the serpent, while Water occasionally took the form of the frog.
Sometimes also, when it suited their purpose to manipulate those about them, they named themselves gods, and commanded ordinary men and women.
Ishbel had no idea what it was she truly served.
The move into the physical realm of men was dangerous. As flesh and blood men they might still command powers greater than those of most mortals, but were as vulnerable to the spear and the sword as any other.
There came a noise from the door, a footfall, and Lister turned about.
Three creatures of above man-height stood there. They were skeletal, and vaguely man-shaped, but more wraith than flesh. The most substantial part of them was their over-sized skull-like heads, dominated by heavy, great-toothed jaws and huge silver orbs set deep into their eye sockets.
One of them nodded at the table, which was covered at one end with the detritus of Lister’s earlier meal.
“We’ve come for the leavings, Lord Lister,” the Skraeling said, his voice more hissed whisper than spoken word.
“Take them,” said Lister. “Did the kitchen hand out the scraps to your comrades earlier?”
“Yes,” said another of the Skraelings. “Thank you. Lard and blood. Tasty.”
“Tasty, tasty,” whispered the other two.
Lister nodded at the table, and the three Skraelings crept forward, gathering plates into their awkward hands, licking each one clean as they picked them up. Then, silver orbs glancing at Lister, they crept back through the door, closing it behind them.
“Damned creatures,” Lister muttered. He loathed them, but for the moment it was better to be their friend than their enemy.
Like his ally, Water, who stood watch over the ancient evil far to the south, Lister stood watch over the tens of thousands of Skraelings who gathered in the frozen hills about Crowhurst. He knew that Kanubai whispered to them from deep within his abyss, and that Kanubai was the Skraelings’ only true lord. But Lister had wormed his serpentine way into the Skraelings’ affections by feeding them scraps and leavings in order that he might live beside them, and watch their every move.
They were loathsome companions, but for the moment Lister must make do.
And at least they were not his only companions. Another footfall sounded at the door, and Lister looked up, smiling in genuine warmth as the winged woman entered.
THE ROYAL PALACE, RUEN, ESCATOR
Maximilian lay in bed alone, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Star Web had left an hour or more ago.
Since he’d returned from the gloam mines, Maximilian had taken a variety of lovers. He had spent his youth and early manhood trapped in the mines, and once free he did not hesitate to enjoy the comfort and excitement of a woman in his bed.
But they never stayed the night.
One of Maximilian’s first lovers had been an accommodating lady of court. She was a sweet woman, and had taken it upon herself to teach Maximilian the skills that by rights he should have learned many years earlier. She had slept through the night at his side one time only (and that many months into their relationship), and in the morning had turned to him and said:
I think that the darkness is your true lover, Maximilian. I think you brought it with you out of the Veins. Perhaps you should wive the darkness, and not any flesh and blood woman.
That had stung Maximilian badly, and he’d never invited her back into his bedroom.
Now he lay on the bed, twisting the Persimius ring on his left hand over and over, thinking not so much about Ishbel, but about his parents. His father and mother had loved each other dearly, and their marriage had been strong.
But they had had separate bedrooms, and Maximilian suspected that his mother only spent a handful of entire nights with his father, and those, perhaps, only at the very beginning of their marriage.
Generally, she had preferred to sleep elsewhere than at her beloved husband’s side.
Maximilian’s lover had been wrong. It was not the Veins that had imbued Maximilian with his darkness, but something far older, and deeply embedded within the Persimius blood.
Maximilian sighed, finally admitting he could not sleep. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at his desk for a long time, then rose and walked over, lighting a lamp and scattering the documents regarding Ishbel Brunelle across the desktop with his fingers.
He paused as the folded map slid into view.
“By the gods, Vorstus,” Maximilian muttered, “my life would be so much simpler without you.”
Then he picked up the map and unfolded it.
At first glance the map was innocuous, showing the Central Kingdoms and the Outlands. Maximilian traced a finger over the Outlands, looking for Serpent’s Nest. He knew it was a mountain, and had supposed it was one of the summits within the Sky Peaks which ran down the western border of the Outlands.
He frowned as his initial scan of the map failed to reveal Ishbel’s home.
Then, increasingly irritated, he looked further afield, and finally spotted Serpent’s Nest on the very eastern seaboard of the Outlands.
Maximilian dropped the map and stepped back from the desk, staring at the desktop as if it contained the most vile of monsters.
Serpent’s Nest was what he knew as the Mountain at the Edge of the World.
It took Maximilian some minutes to bring his breathing back under control and to still his racing
