The Pawn of Isis, page 13
part #2 of Klaereon Scroll Series
"Good morning," said Lucy.
"Good morning," said Carlo. He kissed the top of her head. Below, Solomon's Scroll rested in a new bone case, which had replaced the one which shattered when he had taken his own memorable trip to the Abyss. The hindquarters of a lion curled around the base of a pedestal. "Is that Horus?" Carlo asked quietly.
"Yes," said Lucy. "He sees his major purpose as guarding the scroll. I also believe he doesn't trust Ra, so he is hyper vigilant. He's right to be so."
"Why would you say that?" Octavia studied Lucy.
"I like to feel that Horus is here, in case something goes wrong with me."
"How do you explain a lion padding around the house?"
"Thankfully, he is content to be here," said Octavia.
"Why would he want to be near the scroll? " asked Carlo, remembering how much he wanted to get away from it.
"It helps if it is in the scroll case," said Lucy.
"May I take a closer look?"
"As long as you don't try to take the scroll." Lucy smiled.
"History will not repeat itself," said Carlo. He climbed down the circular stairs, which wrapped the pedestal. His feet crunched rough pebbles into the rock floor. Descending, he saw all of Horus. Feathers, beaks, wings, claws in the front. "Horus doesn't look like this mythologically," said Carlo.
Octavia arrived beside him. "A companion god like this means Gregorius will control the scroll. He is less well suited than Marcellus to the task. Marcellus is more even tempered. There's a streak of anger in Gregorius. It's his curse."
Lucy stood on the stairs behind them. Carlo had not heard her descend. "He's very young," said Lucy. "He may improve."
"You know better," said Octavia. "I wasn't that old when I tried to smother you."
"That's in the past," said Lucy. "You're better now."
Octavia’s eyes shifted nervously as she glanced back at Lucy, and then she turned her attention to Carlo. "Carlo, I apologize again for all the things that happened before, especially what happened here."
"You can only apologize so many times." Carlo sweated, not knowing if emotion or actual temperature made him warm. "Look at you now. There is hope for your son."
"What if Horus leads Gregorius down the wrong path?" said Octavia. "Khun wasn't entirely at fault, but I wouldn't have done the things I did if we'd had a real Trial." Octavia paused as her voice broke. "Marcellus' arrangement with Thoth was a stopgap against disaster. I am afraid for my sons."
"I promise you," Lucy said, "what happened before will not happen again. On my life."
"No," said Carlo. "It won't." Well, he'd had some small amount of happiness stored up. He hoped it would be enough to help him persevere through what he had to do next.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The day was a little windy. Helen seemed to be running late. Lucy hoped she would come. She looked down the path from her vantage point on top of a giant boulder. There Helen was, holding onto her bonnet, making the climb up the peak.
Helen loved the outdoors. Her knowledge of botanical magic was cultivated through years of trial and error. She had a great fondness for flowers and being outside helped her escape Galt House. While Lucy had heard only the most vicious rumors about Helen and Antonius Claudian, the essentials of the scandal were still damning, and her family had done nothing to quell the most vicious rumors.
"I have found you," said Helen. She shielded her eyes from the bright sun of the early spring day.
"Thank you for coming."
"Can you come down? I would prefer not to climb up."
Lucy slipped back to the ground. This was one of her favorite places to come since she had been small. Now it represented her fondest memory, kissing Carlo for the first time. "Thank you for coming," Lucy said. "My one regret in breaking my marriage to your brother is it is no longer easy to keep your company."
"I miss you too," said Helen. Her ribbons fluttered like wind-blown birds. "I would be grateful for some quality conversation. All Clytemnestra talks about are frocks and her upcoming season."
"Clytemnestra is young," said Lucy. "Her conversational choices stem from this. Do not judge her too harshly."
"As you say," said Helen, leaning against stone. "What a place to meet." Her cheeks were red with cold.
"I have some matters to discuss and I do not wish to be overheard."
"Goodness," said Helen. "So mysterious."
Lucy grabbed her bonnet to keep it from blowing off her head. "You are no fool. Have you no suspicions about why I would marry Atreus, knowing him, knowing me?"
"I do not see…"
"Stay with me for a moment. Why would I marry your brother?"
Helen sighed. "The usual reasons." Her eyes rolled up slightly as she spoke, as if she were reading a script in her own mind. "Our families have money, and money allies with money. Marrying for love is not recommended in our circles."
Lucy's skirt flapped tight against her legs. "Atreus has some information which will stir up the council of magical families regarding Octavia and my father's death. Do you have any idea what this information might be?"
"No. " Helen paused, then reconsidered what she was going to say, again consulting the script in her mind. "You're wrong to think I would be privy to any information Atreus might have. He keeps his secrets close to the vest. You broke off your engagement, knowing he had this information, and would use it if you didn't marry him? Do you not understand how this will hurt your family's standing with the council?"
"In a short while, it will matter little whatever information Atreus has. Octavia has been charged with keeping her family in check, given our unique magic, and I intend to make sure she never has trouble with our magic again. I would like to know if Atreus would continue to be a danger to my sister. I find that unacceptable, and am prepared to take steps."
Helen eyes found Lucy's. "It is very bold of you to tell me this. Why would I not go to Atreus? He is the head of my family."
"Given your family's handling of what happened to you, I do not think so."
"I am sorry I cannot help you."
Lucy cocked her head to one side. "There is something else, something more important. I am with child.”
“Isn’t this rather soon? Unless you and Atreus—?”
“No. It is Carlo’s.” Lucy shifted. “A blood magician knows these things, almost instantly.”
"Oh." Helen was silent for a moment. "Congratulations."
Lucy shook her head.
"Why not? It is a blessed event. Congratulations. If there isn't anything else?"
"I am most sensible to the grief this line of conversation must cause you," said Lucy, "but I need your advice."
Helen squinted into the wind. "About your child? I am the least fit person for you to talk to."
"Gossip says you strangled your own child, which was why Antonius went to sea."
Helen's lower left eye twitched. "That is not true."
"I know it is not true. Your family keeps you prisoner for a youthful indiscretion, even though your child died."
"I beg you will no longer speak to me of this."
"I am sorry to cause you pain. I am in great need of an ally right now, and you may understand my situation more than anyone else. This child cannot be a Binder."
Helen paled. "Lucy, I am not the person you wish to consult."
"I think you are, especially with your knowledge. Did you not consider, for an instant, whether you could rid yourself of your burden?"
Tears streaked Helen's face, but there was fury in her voice. "No. Not for an instant. I knew my own mind, and I risked everything to have my baby."
Lucy chewed the inside of her cheek. "I can't damn my child."
“Then you shouldn’t have conceived one.” Helen used her sleeve to wipe away tears. "Aren’t you a blood magician? Can’t you rid yourself of it?” Helen's voice was brittle.
“That is not one of our abilities.” Lucy swallowed. "If I have this child, Erasmus' agreement would continue, with all the inherent dangers it represents to my family and to the world.”
“There is no need to kill your baby." Helen gritted her teeth. "All Binders are born on the same day. No god can make a pact with your child if they are born on the wrong day."
"Oh," said Lucy. "You mean we—"
"Yes. We can surely figure out how to make your child early. There is risk, but—"
A weight lifted from Lucy's chest. "Thank you. You are a true friend."
Dust motes shined in the red rays of light reflecting through the window in the twilight room. Octavia placed a candle on the table by the giant tome. The Klaereon history was a proper monster of a book, sitting on a pedestal which was raised on a dais. As Octavia opened the cover, shadows which formed the letters on the first page squirmed and ran away from the light. The room was a real dark sorcerer's room, which had appeased the sensibilities of Juno Klaereon when she had brought Cyril's book to Mistraldol from his tomb in Alexandria.
Last night, after Carlo departed for London, Octavia talked at length to Olympe Vipond. As far as Octavia was concerned, it wasn't a question of whether Octavia would leave to find Drusus as much as it was a matter of when. Their plan was simple: Olympe would alert Vergilius if Lucy's behavior became erratic. Thoth and Horus would protect her sons from Lucy. Octavia hoped Lucy's sanity would prevail, but she couldn't be naive about Lucy's chances.
Last night, Octavia decided to consult Cyril's volume. Cyril, the Klaereon who had the audacity to become a friar during the long years everyone believed the Egyptians were demons, had meticulously recopied the family history from scrolls and legend and had created a relentlessly accurate picture of the family until his death in 1523: those who were of the Binder line, and those who were not. The medium he had chosen to write the book in, the shadows the family controlled, somehow managed to continue recording the history after Binders passed on. The shadows or Cyril liked keeping secrets. New pages appeared as more were needed. The book did not lay out destiny; rather, it recorded events. Octavia would have found it comforting if the book would predict the future. There was a great deal she wanted to know at the moment. Only the events of her life and Lucy's life which had come to pass were in the book.
Octavia spoke. "Show me any events of demon and human occupying the same body."
Of course the book opened to the events of the previous year. Octavia swallowed and then made her voice sound commanding. "I am aware of my possession by Ra. Show me that again, and I will destroy this book forever by burning this room." An idle threat, but forceful.
The book flipped pages back and forth, as if scanning and reading information. Finally, in a fit of certainty, the pages settled. The dust made Octavia's nose run. In 913, Astor Klaereon seemingly Banished his demon, but in reality, Astor and his demon Nehebkau succeeded in mortally wounding each other. Nehebkau took Astor into himself to save their lives, and the two became one being with Astor's form. Astor changed after his Trial, but all assumed it was because of the retraction of his particular curse.
Octavia chewed on a finger. "That's not quite right," she said. "Are there any other instances in this book of what Lucy did to Drusus? The physical combination of an Egyptian god and a non-Binder?"
Again, the flurry of pages. After some time, the book closed with a final thud.
"No, then." Octavia sat on the stairs of the dais in front of the book. Shadows rustled around her. Patricide, they whispered. She ignored them. There were no answers to be found in the pages of history. She would have to find the answer herself. She hugged her knees.
The fluttering of paper made her wrench her head back toward the book. It was still closed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the floating paper crane gliding through the air beside her. She snatched the delicate paper, unfolded it, and read.
Seconds later, she bounded from the room. Now she knew exactly where Drusus was and she could reach him in about a week. All she needed was a good plan for when she reached her husband.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gibraltar, May, 1842
At the top of the rock of Gibraltar, where only serious climbers and weather wizards would go, Drusus studied the different colors of blue of the ocean, strands of aqua on the edges, patches of blue drilling deeper into the water. A warm wind blew back his hair and did little to chill his sweaty body. His shirt, stuck to his torso, moved reluctantly at the hem. Unfortunately, the man he was fighting was relentless and would not see his way clear to stopping for a breather.
Behind him, Drusus' brother Antonius, legs in fencer's stance, stretched back and forth. It was always ironic to Drusus that the most gentle of his two older brothers was the most skilled at combat. Antonius' appearance had changed since Drusus last saw him three years ago—his red hair lightened to an almost blond and his skin tan from exposure on the ocean and in the tropics. Exile and disappointment had hardened the edges of his face, but his voice was still mild and polite, as though he were asking a young woman to stand up with him at a ball.
His brother's sword sliced the air and wobbled with the movement. "Are you ready?"
Drusus clenched his fists, one around his own sword's pommel, and stepped forward. "As much as I ever am." Since these sessions were his own idea, he had no one but himself to blame.
Antonius' rapier flicked forward and scratched Drusus' cheek. "Your Egyptian god is a slow blocker."
Drusus crouched and raised his own sword. "You shouldn't sport with him."
"Why not?" Antonius waited, and the wind stopped for a split second, holding its breath before the real battle. "I can't mar your good looks. We've already established they repair themselves."
"Neither Khun nor I like pain." Drusus lunged, aided by wind currents pushing him forward. "I can't be responsible if Khun comes out angry."
"Making him angry is the point, isn't it?" Antonius leaped back, the wind at his heels lifting him from the ground, flying him backwards. "To learn how to control the transformation, see how you do under duress." Another slash on Drusus' arm, another pinprick of stress. Drusus parried the next stroke, but there was nothing for the onslaught that was to come once Antonius began.
Antonius embraced his task with relish. His rapier sang, and darted past Drusus' parries and blocks. The blade crackled with electricity, burning and stinging each time it found its mark on Drusus' skin. Antonius was particularly gifted with electricity, which turned his blade into a live rod of lightning.
Drusus gritted his teeth. His body distorted, his consciousness faded from the surface. He mentally braced himself. The trick was not to stop his transformation into Khun. The trick was to hold onto himself while it happened. He dug into his consciousness with metaphysical fingernails. He would not be shoved back, even as his body rippled, even as he felt horns sprout and his temper sharpen.
Antonius pressed his advantage. "Drusus? Are you still with me?"
Drusus dropped his sword and grabbed at his brother with massive arms. "I'm still here," said Drusus. His voice was thick and foreign, but they were still his thoughts.
"Excellent." Antonius flew upwards and back just a bit. "Stay focused. Tell me something about my nephews."
"What do you want to know?" Drusus leaped up to catch him, but Antonius flew out of range.
"Is your youngest a Binder as well?"
"Bound to Horus. Cries a lot." Drusus smiled. "I'm the only one he stops crying for."
"Who would have thought?" said Antonius. "Your son is a cry baby, like you were." Antonius landed and lunged, missing. His sword swiped in front of Drusus. Drusus jumped back. "Good. Very good dodge."
"I doubt Marcellus will devil Gregorius all the time, like you and Vergilius did to me."
"Your memory is warped. Vergilius deviled you. I suggested things to you and you were gullible. Therefore in my case, you yourself are to blame." A swipe above Drusus' head caused him to crouch, and then another return swipe made him leap back. "Is Marcellus a mild boy?"
"Thoughtful. The word I would use is thoughtful." Drusus grabbed the sword. Sticky blood trickled from his clenched fist. The sword snapped.
"Damn it," said Antonius. "That one was my favorite."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not." Antonius landed. The lightning around him snapped to stillness. "You've changed into Khun completely, and you're still yourself. Progress."
Drusus was full of adrenaline and power, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. "I could tear down the rock."
"I wouldn't. It's a beloved feature. Change back and we'll have lunch." Antonius headed for a nearby basket.
"I don't have to change back to have lunch." Drusus clenched his fists.
"I didn't bring enough food to feed you when you are a seven-foot god," Antonius shouted back. "Come along."
"That's fair. Give me a moment." Drusus willed his body to shift.
"No," said the voice in the back of his head. "You will not use me like this."
"I can't change," said Drusus.
"You don't want to change," said Antonius, his voice placid as the break in the wind. "Try to think about being yourself."
Panic edged his thoughts. "Nothing is happening."
Antonius' voice remained calm. "You're still in control. Your blood's up. Give yourself a moment."
"What if I can't change back?" Fear tickled the back of his throat. "I can't stay like this."
"Calm yourself. Small steps." Antonius hurried back toward him.
Drusus was slipping away, toward the voice, into himself. You cannot control me. You cannot keep me from the woman I love.
"Drusus," Antonius' voice was firm. "Stay here with me. You're hearing your own doubts."
The darkness rushed to meet him, a whoosh as he fell into a pit. He scrambled, lost in his mind, trying to surface from a sticky mist of gray. Then he was in it, dark pain as he clawed his way to the surface, reconnected to his hands, his legs, his heart. There was a flash of blue brilliance and he popped back to the sunny Gibraltar day, lying on the hard ground, his body seared with heat. Antonius stood over him and extended a hand to help him up. Drusus used his own human hand and reached out.
