Prospero Regained (57 page)

Erasmus hesitated, torn. He glanced at the carved length of wood in Caliban’s hand, as if debating whether or not to trust King Vinae’s advice. Would he do as the Club had instructed? Or would he request some other boon?

I waited, my heart hammering. Silently, I prayed, “Please, Erasmus! Please!” For, if he did not choose to have me play for him, I would surely die … or worse.

Beside me, I saw Mab’s eyes quickly flicker over the various objects in the environment. He clearly reached the same conclusion I had just reached. If Erasmus chose his own freedom, in any form, Ulysses, Logistilla, Caliban, and Mab could still escape. They were close enough to one another that they could successfully flee using the
Staff of Transportation
. I, on the other hand, would be trapped in the numbing grip of the Torturers. Unless Lilith instructed them to release me, I would never leave Hell again.

Even if my brother made a choice that did not benefit himself, such as the freedom of his son, if Erasmus failed to request that I play—requiring the Torturers to let go of me—my life as I knew it would be over.

Looking across the snow, I met Erasmus’s gaze. His dark eyes stared mockingly back at me, and I realized Lilith had outwitted me.

She had offered my brother everything he desired. Erasmus merely had to ask that Ulysses and Logistilla be allowed to take his body back to Father, and, most likely, he would one day live again. He would be home, with Father and all his family, and the only price paid would be me—exactly the outcome he had been plotting for when he suggested I be the volunteer for his spell. As to his son, if Erasmus were alive and free, he could find a way to save Fiachra.

On the other hand, if he chose to go along with our plan, he would be trading a sure thing for the unknown. No, it was not that our plan was unknown that was holding him back. It was me. If he chose our plan, he would have to trust me, just as I, moments ago, had been forced to trust Caliban.

But, Erasmus did not trust me.

Uncle Antonio had won. The Queen of Air and Darkness had won. The Family Prospero was going to be undone by demon-sown mistrust.

Would I have come had I known what was at stake? That I might lose everything and be handed over to Osae the Red as his plaything before being dragged off to the Tower of Pain?

I recalled a thousand offenses Erasmus had committed against me: how he had mocked me ceaselessly; how he had ridiculed me in public; how he had called me unwomanly before the other ladies of the English court, provoking a duel with Theo, which led to my learning to embroider and to the coat-of-arms I sewed for Theo; how he had withered my hair and scalp, leaving my hair permanently white—he had not known at the time that I could restore its vitality using Water of Life; how he had dangled his shares of Prospero, Inc., before me just to yank them away again, resulting in the deaths of over a hundred thousand people when I was not present to mitigate the effects of the worst typhoon in recorded history.

And I was willing to make such a sacrifice, to give up everything of worth left to me, to risk the lives of my family and those of countless people on earth for this man?

Across the ice, our eyes met.

For an instant, it was as if I was Erasmus, as if I suffered despair such as I had not previously thought possible; as if it were I who had lost all hope—lost my love, been betrayed, and wasted my life in hatred.

It was as if I was the one who had loved Maria, who loved Father more than my own life, who loved Cornelius, despite his shortcomings, loved him for his intelligence, his wit, and his refusal to bow to despair, despite the mountain of challenges afflicting our blind brother.

I felt such sorrow, such self-loathing. Nothing in my previous experience prepared me for such depth of anguish.

I stumbled back, my heart pounding. The Torturer’s claws tore into my shoulder. I managed to stifle my scream.

It had happened again. This time, I had seen a glimpse of the inner heart of my brother Erasmus. No wonder my brother had volunteered to take Father’s place. The comeuppance he had suffered at Uncle Antonio’s hands, and then again upon learning that I was not what he had taken me to be, was far worse than anything Hell might devise.

I could not hold him fully responsible for his rancor toward me. Some of it had been Uncle Antonio’s doing. When it came down to it, Erasmus was not the enemy. He was a man whom Cornelius loved, and he was my brother.

Closing my eyes, I forgave him.

Opening them again, I met Erasmus’s gaze and hope leapt in my heart. Then, a sneer curled his lip, and I knew that I was lost. Tears blurred my vision, as sorrow for vanished opportunities swelled my throat. I could barely breathe. Silently, I prayed that Mab would be able to get the flute out of Hell before his entire race fell under the sway of the Queen of Air and Darkness.

How different my life had turned out from what I had dreamt it might be when, as a maid of fifteen, I journeyed from Prospero’s Island to Milan. What great hopes I had had for the wide world beyond our island, that brave new world. I did not feel that I had wasted my time; yet, I had never become a Sibyl, never become a wife, or a mother, and my two chances at love had been so fleeting that I could hardly say I had loved at all.

Both of the men were now dead; both killed by treachery.

My one consolation was that my epitaph would not bear the cold inscription that the dream Astreus had predicted. I had trusted my family. That was what had brought me to this impasse. Perhaps, instead, it might read: “She was loyal.”

No, even that was robbed of me, for my very last action had been to disobey my father. Father had been right, of course.

Oh what a fool I had been to come!

My brother turned his head what little he could until he could see the beautiful Queen of Air and Darkness in her black chariot. She nodded prettily, awaiting his request.

Erasmus raised his voice: “Oh, Great Lilith, my last request is that my sister Miranda play one last song for me upon her flute.”

I gasped. Ulysses and Caliban grinned. Logistilla sagged in relief. Mab let out a strangled cheer.

“And risk having her slay you herself? For, if the
Staff of Winds
is one of the tighter bars, her first note will kill you.” Lilith clapped her hands. “Oh, that is splendid. Rather like Russian roulette, only with thorn bushes.” A tiny furrow appeared between her lovely brows as her eyes paused upon my emerald wings, but it did not dampen her enthusiasm. “Let the concert begin.”

The Torturer released me. I slipped my hands free of the handcuffs, and Caliban offered me my flute. My upper arms felt numb where the crab-like claws had pinched me, but I was able to move my shoulders. I took the flute and walked forward.

My brother watched me intently from where he waited in his warped cage. Some of his dark hair had pulled free of his queue and again hung in his eyes. His face was pale, except where it bled from multiple scratches.

Still sneering, Erasmus looked straight at me, his gaze defiant, as if daring me to slay him. He spoke in a soft, almost menacing voice. “I would rather be damned for trusting my family than redeemed for doubting them.”

“Good for you, Sir,” Mab murmured, taking off his hat and holding it in front of his chest.

“Before, I play, I would like to make a dedication,” I announced.

Lilith nodded and waved her hand, encouraging me to add to the entertainment of her hordes.

“This song is for my Lady Eurynome,” I began. There was a flash of lightning in the far distance. The ice beneath us shook, making a noise like thunder.

“You better not say Her name again,” Logistilla hissed, “and shouldn’t you be dedicating this to Erasmus?”

Drawing myself up, I chanted: “In the beginning, Eurynome moved across the face of Chaos, but found no place to rest her feet. Dancing upon the dark waters, she found the wind behind her had become a serpent, the great Ophion. Eurynome danced, and Ophion coiled about her divine limbs. Thus was the universe conceived.”

I then told a succinct version of the tale Father Christmas told us at Landover Mall, about the demons and their garden and how the Divine Infinite breathed life into the first of men. Each time I spoke my Lady’s name, my infernal audience cringed, Lilith scowled, and a lightning bolt snaked across the sky.

“As the woman sat beneath the blessed tree,” I concluded, “a fruit fell into her hand, and she bit into it. Some say that it fell by its own volition, but others claim that Ophion, the Serpent of the Wind, moved through its branches, disturbing them; for he was ever a champion of mankind and an enemy of all demons.

“Many eons have passed since that long ago time,” I finished, ignoring the hisses of my disgruntled audience, “but still Eurynome dances, bringing forth life and trampling Chaos beneath Her feet. This song, I dedicate to Her and to Her consort, the mysterious Serpent of the Wind, wherever he may have wandered. May they find their way back to each other. For while Love may be postponed or delayed, it can never truly be denied … or bound.” I bowed my head. My audience hooted and booed.

I stood in their midst, holding the
Staff of Winds
in my hands. Never had its four-foot length of pale, polished pinewood seemed so precious to me. I recalled the last time I had played it, how its sacred music had soothed the creatures who were tortured here, giving them a moment’s respite from their millennia of torture. Tears rose in my eyes. I longed to play it one more time, to hear its voice, to let it, just once more, transport me beyond this mortal coil into some realm more sublime.

But it was not to be.

Raising my flute, I touched my lips to its polished wood one last time. Then, I brought it down upon my thigh with all my supernatural strength, courtesy of the Water of Life.

The flute snapped in two.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

The Serpent of the Winds

A stillness fell upon us, like the quiet clarity before the storm. It lasted just long enough for me to take in the expression of unadulterated joy upon the face of Mab and that of triumph on the face of Lillith, who leaned forward eagerly, expecting the release of King Vinae. Then, like a living hurricane, the Serpent of the Winds welled up out of the broken flute.

“Logistilla! Now!” I cried, as one of the thorny bars trapping Erasmus went limp and fell away from the cage. “Ulysses!”

Logistilla raised her staff. Eerie green iridescent light danced across the ball that topped it. It shot out and touched Erasmus, who had just enough leeway—due to the missing bar—to draw away from the sharp point of the thorn driving toward his heart. Then, he was a toad, and Ulysses grabbed him. With a bright flash, they were both gone—leaving the rest of us stranded.

The wind whipped around me, rising out of the two broken halves of the flute. It grew, blowing up the ice about us into a small blizzard. It threw imps, ouphe, and demi-goblins to and fro. It tossed the Torturers across the glacier like dry leaves, their long cloaks flapping in the hurricanic breeze.

The winds spread. Gathering together, they formed a great serpentine shape that undulated back and forth as it snaked through the nearby cages. The triangular head, as large as a bull elephant, rose up, poised to strike. Slitted serpent eyes, delineated by swirling ice, stared down at me.

I stood, petrified. I had risked everything on the fact that Ophion had not obeyed when Baelor called upon him to turn against me. I had chosen the words of my speech carefully, wishing to remind the great serpent where his loyalties originally lay. I was hoping he had remained loyal because, despite his captivity, he still preferred mankind to demons.

If I was wrong, then I had just done something terrible indeed.

I spread my arms and called, “Ophion, you are free. Forgive me, for I knew not who you were. Spare us, I beg you, and return to your Lady, whom you love.”

The serpent remained poised above me, staring hypnotically. Then, as swiftly as a gale wind, he swept down upon me.

The Serpent of the Winds caught me up in his coils, drawing me some two hundred feet into the air. As he wound around me again and again, his head slithered past my ear.

“It is true,” whispered a voice that sounded like the winds themselves speaking.

“What?” I cried, terrified. “What is true?”

As the great head of wind slipped by my other ear, it answered, “We do love you.”

*   *   *

AS
gently as a summer breeze, he placed me back on my feet. Then, he turned his fury against the demons.

Incubi and peri, demons and cacodemons flew through the air; horns and wings and tri-spiked tails all rolled together into great snowy balls. Terrified, the denizens of Hell fled, crying and cawing and wailing like babies.

There was another flash, and Ulysses appeared beside Logistilla, Mab, and Caliban. As he held out his hand, Uncle Antonio grabbed Logistilla’s enchanted garment-clad arm, crying, “Please! Take me with you!” The five of them disappeared in a swirl of white light.

“Stop!” Lilith held up her hand.

The great serpent of wind paused, raising up like a cobra performing a rope trick. All the winds ceased. A slow smile spread across her girlish face. “We have had enough of this. Servants, grab the girl.”

The sky cracked opened, and lightning struck the Tower of Thorns. The accompanying thunderbolt shook the glacier. The thorny tower trembled and tottered. As if in slow motion, it tumbled over before crashing to the snow beneath it.

All across the glacier, the captives gave a great cheer as the bars of their cages snapped and they ran out, free. Only the giant, who was trapped in the ice, remained restrained.

Overhead, the broken sky was lit from beyond by a brilliant glow, and a golden shaft of light fell from the hole in the sky to the snow. Angels circled about the opening, staying within the beam of golden light. I could not see them clearly, just glimpses of wings and gowns; but what a sound they made, like a thousand doves beating their wings in unison!