Crusader (30 page)

Although he was also technically her grandfather, Zenith found it impossible to perceive him as such.

Just a man. But a SunSoar. A man of her own blood, and a man she could possibly learn to trust.

She pulled back her hand, and WolfStar let her go.

“Has the Healer seen to your wounds today?” she asked, even though she knew the answer from talking to the guardsman on duty outside.

“Yes. I feel…better.”

Indeed, WolfStar looked remarkably better. Whether it was the attention he was receiving from the Healers, or the undoubted benefit of breathing the untainted, undemonised air of Sanctuary, or simply his own remarkable recuperative powers, WolfStar was very definitely improving. His colour was good, his breathing unlaboured, his wounds scabbing and crusting over cleanly, and he could move about the bed without wincing with every minor effort.

Very soon, Zenith thought, he would be up and moving about the room.

She stiffened at the thought.

“I will not harm you again,” WolfStar said, looking at her carefully.

Her mouth twisted. “But will I harm myself?” she said.

WolfStar struggled up onto one elbow. “Why should you?” he asked.

Zenith looked at him. His face and form were half-hidden with the shifting shadows cast by the lamp, but she could see
the gleam of his eyes, the hard planes of his face, the rise and fall of his chest.

“StarDrifter and I,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “have been having some personal difficulties.”

“Yes?”

Zenith stared at WolfStar suspiciously, trying to find the merest hint of sarcasm, or even triumph, in his voice. But it was not there. What she could see of his face was merely wearied by the effort of raising himself up to look at her.

Zenith shrugged, letting her eyes drift away. “We are SunSoar,” she said. “And our blood calls each to the other.”

She glanced back at WolfStar, but his face was unreadable, and he remained silent.

“But…but however much I love StarDrifter, and I
do
, and however much I
want
to be his lover, and that I desire as well, I cannot.”

“No,” WolfStar said, and his voice was low, thoughtful. “You could not, could you?”

Now it was Zenith’s turn to remain silent.

“You are Azhure’s daughter,” WolfStar said, “and you could no more sleep with your own grandfather than you could thrust your own child into the fire.”

And then he burst out laughing, apparently with genuine amusement. “Ah! I forgot.
That
you could do, and that you
did
do, very well, didn’t you? Oh no, Zenith, do not go. I am laughing, but at my own stupidity and careless words than at you. Please, stay. Please.”

Zenith sank back onto the stool, and let WolfStar take her hand again.

It was warm and dry and very soft and reassuring.

“I used the wrong words,” he said, “but the meaning is true enough. StarDrifter is your beloved grandfather, and as much as I like to belittle the man, there are some things he does well—and being the warm, protective grandfather
is
one of those things. But now he wants to bed you. Poor Zenith. Your Acharite reserve must be at full war with your Icarii longings.

“And yet I,” his voice lowered, and his hand slipped down to grasp lightly her wrist, “am a full-blooded Icarii man with no such reserves. A man who abused and wronged you, true, but one who has now been suitably punished, is suitably regretful…and who is of SunSoar blood.”

“Shut up!”

His fingers tightened. “Hate yourself, Zenith. Not me. Not for speaking the truth.”

WolfStar paused, and when he resumed his voice was hard with truth. “Why are you here? Why? Why come back?”

A
s StarDrifter had said, Axis had more than enough help without begging assistance from anyone. Sanctuary was peopled with helpers, and while few as yet realised the imminent danger that faced Sanctuary, those that did were numerous enough, and eager enough, for what Axis needed.

There was the Lake Guard, twiddling their thumbs about now that DragonStar had no immediate need for them. There was Zared, and the vast army and loyalty he commanded. The Icarii numbered in their tens of thousands, and while Axis had only told FreeFall and EvenSong and their immediate aides about the demonic danger facing Sanctuary, they could command enough Icarii into the sky to blot out even Sanctuary’s apparently limitless light.

“Just a few score will do,” Axis had said, smiling.

Now he, Azhure, Zared and FreeFall stood about on one of the larger balconies of the main palace complex, Katie clutching Azhure’s skirts as she had once clutched Faraday’s. Katie had been very, very quiet in the past few hours, and while Azhure had worried about it, and tried to ask the girl what was wrong, Katie had only shaken her head and refused to speak.

The Mother’s death had made her fully conscious of the terms of her own sacrifice.

A light, warm breeze blew over the balcony, tugging at coat and shirt-sleeves and wrapping the folds of Azhure’s
gown about her body. Zared, tired of the inaction, wandered listlessly about the balcony itself. It was tiled in a wondrous translucent turquoise, and it had salmon crystal columns supporting a balustrade of the same material.

“Not something I would have commissioned myself,” he said dryly.

“It could be,” Azhure said, one of her hands absently ruffling Katie’s hair, “that the original Enemy had a more ostentatious taste in colour and vibrancy than their later children.”

“And it could be,” FreeFall said, walking to the balustrade and looking out over the orchards and fields spread out below them before turning back to the others, “that Sanctuary is merely storing all the colour and vibrancy that has been lost above. ’Tis no wonder, perhaps, that at times it appears a trifle gaudy.”

Axis sighed, and restrained the urge to pace about restlessly. Where were the scouts he’d sent out hours ago? Was there
no
news?

“Storage for no reason,” he said, folding his arms and tapping a foot impatiently, “if Sanctuary is about to collapse about us.”

Axis’ eyes flitted skywards as if he could see the cracks appearing in the sky already. He remembered how the wards covering the Star Gate had sickened and died, and he thought that much the same would eventually happen to the skies of Sanctuary.

I curse Isfrael
, he thought, and then let his mouth twist wryly. He had spent the past forty years cursing the wrong son; he would have done better to raise Drago in love rather than hate.

But would
love
have tempered him into the man he is now?

“What are the other Star Gods doing?” Zared asked.

Azhure glanced at Axis, and then shrugged elegantly. “The events of the past few months have been, I think, rather too much for them.”

“They can’t cope?” Zared raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What sort of gods are they, then?”

Axis gave a harsh laugh. “None of us are gods any more, Zared. For Adamon, and Xanon, as for the others, the shock was overwhelming. They lost contact with their mortality over the tens of thousands of years they revelled in their immortality. It is no wonder they find it difficult to adjust. For Azhure and myself,” he lifted a hand, and briefly touched his wife’s hair, “the shock was less, although still profound. Our mortality was still close, and…”

“And we have slipped the more easily back into its restrictions,” Azhure finished for him. “The other once-gods now tend to keep to themselves, hating their uselessness.”

“And now,” Zared said, looking at Axis, “you have a use once more. Get us out of here, Axis!” Zared’s voice rose, and he stepped three or four paces towards Axis. “Get us out of here! Leagh is up there somewhere,” he gestured impotently towards the sky, “and I need to be with her.”

“I will do what I can, Zared,” Axis said quietly, and stepped close enough to place a hand on his brother’s arm. “But we can do nothing—”

“Axis!” It was FreeFall, pointing to the sky.

Eight Lake Guardsmen and women were circling high above their heads, and one by one dropped lower towards the balcony.

WingRidge was the first to land. “StarMan,” he said, and saluted.

Axis’ heart gave a lurch at the title. It had been years—
years!—
since anyone had called him that…and to use such a tone of respect…

“Yes?” he said.

WingRidge waved an arm helplessly, and Axis felt despair wriggle its vicious way through his body. Nothing, then.

“Nothing,” WingRidge said.

“Nothing?” Azhure said.

WingRidge sighed as the other members of the Lake Guard unit settled about him. “We overflew all of Sanctuary that we could,” he said.

“But not all?” FreeFall queried.

“Then why are you back here?” Zared said.

WingRidge shot him an irritated glance. The groundwalkers always thought they knew
everything!

“We are back because we have overflown all of Sanctuary that
anyone
possibly could even in an infinite number of years,” WingRidge said, turning so that he talked exclusively to Axis. At least this man had some patience!

WingRidge paused, gathering his thoughts, and trying to find the phrases he needed to explain what was almost unexplainable.

“If there were only twelve people who needed Sanctuary,” WingRidge finally said, his voice soft and reflective, “then Sanctuary would make itself big enough for twelve people. If twelve million needed Sanctuary, then it would make itself big enough for twelve million. We…we flew as far as we could…but we will never be able to reach Sanctuary’s limits, Axis, because—”

“Because Sanctuary simply keeps expanding itself as you fly towards its current limits,” Zared said. “It is merely being helpful, and expanding to fit the perceived need.”

WingRidge blinked, reassessing his previous ill-tempered thoughts regarding the man. “Yes. As we flew outwards, we could see Sanctuary expanding itself in the distance. New vistas kept expanding themselves. Continuously. The faster we flew, the faster the vistas unfolded before us. There is no end to Sanctuary, and no back wall. It’s too damn helpful and far too cursed accommodating!”

“Stars,” Axis said weakly. He turned away and walked a few steps, trying to sort out his thoughts. Very well, so there was no physical back door, but surely there must be something else they could do, something they could find…

“Axis!” he heard Azhure cry in a panicked voice, and he whipped about.

Everyone on the balcony had scattered, most diving for whatever cover chairs or balustrade could offer.

Axis lifted his head, and, in the next instant, instinctively flung himself to one side.

Something very large and black was tumbling out of the sky.

“Well,” said Urbeth, picking herself up off the gaudy turquoise-tiled floor of the balcony, “someone’s taste is absolutely awful.”

Behind her two other icebears were rolling into a sitting position, their faces scrunched up in scowls as they combed out bits of disarranged fur.

And behind the three bears sat a very disgruntled and immensely old woman, clutching a terracotta pot. She was mumbling something under her breath, and from what Axis could hear of it, he was rather relieved she wasn’t saying it louder.

Old women weren’t supposed to know such gutter oaths.

“Urbeth?” Azhure said weakly, rising to her feet. Katie rose with her, and for the first time in hours she was looking far more relaxed…almost cheerful. She stared at the pot the old woman was holding and, without further ado, let Azhure go and walked over to Ur, sinking down beside her.

Katie reached out a tentative hand and touched the pot, and her face broke into a sunny smile.

Ur stared at her, then relaxed and smiled herself. “What a pretty girlie,” she said. “Do you know if there is anywhere about here that a grumpy old lady could get a cup of tea?”

Zared and FreeFall together with the members of the Lake Guard had retreated to the palace wall, and were watching the proceedings carefully. Hands rested on weapons, but as Axis and Azhure did not seem too perturbed, they did nothing else.

Besides, Zared was sure the two icebears still irritably combing out their fur looked surprisingly familiar. Somehow.

“Urbeth,” Axis said, in a tone of voice that he was immensely relieved to hear was firm and strong. “What is going on? How did you get here? Who is that?” he said, pointing to Ur.

“Well,” Urbeth said politely, “could you tell me where ‘here’ actually
is
?”

Axis glanced at Azhure. She shrugged, and so Axis turned back to Urbeth. “Sanctuary.”

“Ah,” Urbeth said, and paced about, looking this way and that over the balcony. “Useless, useless Sanctuary. What are
you
still doing here? Looking about at the view?”

“We’ve been seeking a way out,” Axis said. “A back door, perhaps, as the front entrance is denied us. But…”

Urbeth heaved a great sigh and sat down. “Can
no-one
accomplish anything without my aid? Ah!”

She rolled her eyes.

“Can you help?” Azhure asked slowly.

Urbeth grinned, frightening and malicious. “That depends,” she said.

“Depends on what?” Axis said.

“On how you feel about a renewed acquaintance with the Skraelings,” Urbeth said.

“
T
alk,” DragonStar said. They were gathered in the lowest part of the basements of Star Finger. Here it was that Faraday had finally found the child whose cries had been haunting her dreams; here that Caelum and DragonStar had made their peace.

Now, it was slightly more crowded and far, far more uncomfortable.

StarLaughter and StarGrace had seated themselves in the centre of the chamber. StarLaughter’s scarlet robe was again carefully arranged to display it and her body to their best advantage. StarGrace had hunkered down on her haunches, a beautiful, sad, gloomy, ugly girl-woman, whose dark gown alternated between material and feathers, and whose hands were always slightly blurred as they shape-changed from claws to plump innocent fingers and back again.