In the pyramid Lister’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. “And what are you about, Isaiah?” Lister said. “How go your plans? Do you mass your army?”
“My forces accrue,” said Isaiah, “as do the stores I will need for the march north. In addition, I am sending Ba’al’uz beyond the FarReach Mountains within the fortnight. He will prepare the way for our invasion. I admit myself pleased at the thought of getting him out of the palace.”
“He could be more danger out of your sight than within it.”
Now it was Isaiah’s turn to shrug. “It is better, I think, to remove him from DarkGlass Mountain’s presence for the moment.”
Lister nodded. “We tread a dangerous dance here, Isaiah. Are you safe?”
Isaiah grunted. “From whom? My generals? I am never safe from them … but I will stay alive as long as it is needed, Lister. As must you.”
“I was not thinking of your generals.”
Isaiah did not respond.
Lister sighed. “Let me know when Ba’al’uz has departed.”
“I will.”
With that, the pyramid dulled, then resumed its usual rosy opaqueness.
“I cannot believe what I just heard!” Axis stalked out of the shadows, his gait not showing any signs of his former weakness. “You have allied with … with … with a Lord of the Skraelings?”
“Axis, I know that in your time you battled long and hard with the Skraelings, and with their then terrible lord, Gorgrael. But I have my —”
“I cannot believe this!” Axis slammed his hand down on the table, and Isaiah’s eyes slid towards the pyramid, grateful that Axis had not damaged it.
“What in the gods’ names do you want from me, Isaiah?”
“Your aid and your advice, Axis. Your friendship.”
“I lost tens of thousands of people to the Skraelings,” Axis hissed. “I have seen what they can do! What the fuck do you think I will do, ally myself with you and the Skraelings to invade —”
“You will calm down and you will listen to me!” Isaiah rose to his feet. He was taller than Axis by a handbreadth, and now he used that slight advantage to stare down at Axis, holding the man’s furious gaze with unwavering eyes. “Nothing is ever as it seems,” Isaiah said, more moderately now. “Nothing.”
He stepped away from Axis. “Wine?”
“Oh, for all the gods’ sakes …”
Isaiah ignored him, walking over to a table and pouring a large measure of wine into a goblet. He brought it back to Axis, holding out the goblet.
Axis did not want wine. He lifted a hand to brush the goblet away, then froze, staring at what Isaiah held.
It was a large amber glass goblet of the most exquisite beauty. Completely forgetting his anger, Axis reached out and took the goblet into his hands.
It was truly the most extraordinary goblet he had ever seen. A craftsman of astonishing talent — magical talent — had carved an outer wall, or cage, of frogs gambolling among reeds about the inner wall of amber glass. When he held it up to the light, careful not to spill the wine inside, the outer caged wall of frogs shone almost emerald, coming to life in the light; the frogs seemed alive, leaping away from the goblet’s inner amber wall as if they were about to take to life itself.
“Drink,” Isaiah said softly.
Axis lifted the goblet to his mouth, but just before the wine reached his lips, one of the frogs about the outer cage lifted a toe pad and gently touched Axis’ face.
Axis trembled so badly he almost dropped the goblet, and Isaiah had to reach out and take it from him.
“That is an object of great power,” Axis said hoarsely. He was rattled, not so much by the fact that the goblet was of a powerful magic, but of the manner of power it represented.
Compassion.
Axis looked at Isaiah, and saw in his black eyes, reflected for just a moment, that same compassion he’d felt from the goblet.
“I found it one day,” said Isaiah, somewhat diffidently. He took a draught of wine from the goblet. “Are you sure you want no wine?”
Axis shook his head. All his anger had vanished, and he was completely calm. He realised that this had been Isaiah’s intention when he’d handed him the goblet, but Isaiah had not actually used any power to pacify Axis.
Instead, Isaiah had used the goblet to show Axis his true nature.
Compassion.
“Trust me,” said Isaiah, and Axis nodded, still almost befuddled by what had just happened.
“Would you like me to tell you where I came from?” said Isaiah. “Where Isembaard came from?”
“Yes. Isembaard is such an unknown entity outside of its borders,” Axis said.
Isaiah walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a large rolled map, which he spread over the table.
Axis came over. The huge map showed the known world in detail, and Axis was stunned by the size of Isembaard. It was three times, at least, the size Tencendor had been.
Axis’ eyes drifted to the north-west of the map where Tencendor should have been.
There was nothing there save a broken line showing where once the coastline had been, and the chilling label: The Lost Land of Tencendor.
“As you can see,” Isaiah said, “my cartographers have produced a perfectly up-to-date map.”
Axis nodded, not trusting his voice.
Isaiah tapped a small city on the east coast of Isembaard. “The original Isembaard rose from this small eastern city of the same name — the Tyranny takes its name from the city that gave it birth. When Isembaard was still a small city and not the vast empire it is now, the tyrants of Isembaard depended almost entirely on warfare for their reputation, and for the means to feed their people.”
“How so?” said Axis. “Surely a state is the stronger the less it engages in war?”
“The city of Isembaard was small, surrounded by poor land,” said Isaiah. “How else was it to grow, and strengthen, if it did not accrue lands unto itself? Isembaard needed to expand in order to survive. It needed its leaders, its tyrants, to be successful and ambitious war leaders, in order that the needed land be accrued.”
“Ah,” said Axis. “So over time Isembaard ‘accrued’ all the nations I have seen on your maps? The ‘dependencies’? A city become an empire?”
“Yes,” said Isaiah. “Bit by bit. It has taken us centuries.”
Axis
