Istu awakened

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'The Destiny Stone,' said Erimenes, obviously enjoying Moriana's expression of horror. 'A different item entirely.' The bright flush the heat had brought to the princess's cheeks drained rapidly as the genie told her of the true nature of the stone she'd carried with her for so long. The shiny, treacherous bauble for which she'd murdered her lover. 'He really died?' she cried, clinging to Fost. 'Then why. ..'

'Why is he alive? Simplicity itself. The other pendant, the plain lump of rock tied on a thong, so rude a thing you both scorned it at once as trash – that was the Amulet of Living Flame. With his dying reflex Fost clutched it as he fell.'

'And does he have it?' Hope brought life flooding back into her features. 'Perhaps some of those who fell today…' Gently Fost shook his head. 'It used up the last of its energies reviving me.' She buried her face against his breast and wept. 'At the end, Erimenes, why did it glow white?'

The sprite chuckled.

'It was bringing the greatest luck of all its existence.' Fost cocked a singed eyebrow at him. 'It was removing itself from the world, dear boy. What more fortunate a thing could it do?' 'I see your point,' said Fost, smiling.

Motion at the edge of vision caught his eye. Synalon! In the aftermath of the Destiny Stone's passing they had forgotten her.

She stood on the ledge of the outermost window gazing down, the wind stirring the stubble of black hair remaining on her head. Her naked skin appeared almost translucent in the brightness of the day. 'Synalon?' asked Moriana. The dark-haired sister turned her head and smiled wanly. 'You've not yet started to wonder what to do with me.'

Moriana licked her lips. For a moment Fost saw hatred burn in her green eyes. Then it faded.

'There's been destruction enough,' she said. 'You're free to go. But you must leave the City.'

'Oh, I intend to,' said Synalon, smiling crookedly. 'But not as you imagine.' The two stared at her. She laughed at their blank looks.

'What a marvellous new generation you'll breed! You look precisely like sheep. Your offspring will go about on all fours and crop the grass.' She raised a hand to cut off their angry retorts. 'Save your breath. The City was my life; when I lost it, I lost all. And I prefer not to live as a groundling.' 'Synalon,' Moriana began. Her sister stepped forward into space.

Moriana screamed. The tears began again, more than before. She clung to Fost and wept great wracking sobs, wept for all those who had died. Her mother, Kralfi the faithful retainer, Sir Ottovus and his brother the grand old hero Rinalvus, young Brightlaugher of Nevrym, poor dear Darl. And even Synalon.

When the grief had exhausted her, Fost helped her off the floor and led her downstairs to greet her subjects.

As the sun passed the zenith and started back down the sky, the crowds began assembling in the Circle of the Skywell. There were plain Sky Citizens, looking timidly about them as if at some alien vista. There were the prisoners, bird riders and Sky Guards and Monitors and Guards from the Palace, watched by vigilant men and women who wore strips of blue and scarlet around their arms to show allegiance to Moriana.

Resistance had long since ceased. When Rann fell from the sky, the heart went out of the bird riders. In a matter of minutes, some quick-thinking rebels had raised Moriana's claw and flower banner from the Palace flagstaff. While the sorcerous battle for the City had continued to rage, the physical battle for the Sky City had ended with this simple action.

Moriana stepped out into the sunlight. In a few seconds, the entire City had taken up the cry. She gestured. Fost joined her. His hair was black and his gaze a heroic blue, and only those nearest could see the way his eyes shifted nervously. Having just lived through horrible ordeal, Fost Longstrider found himself suffering from stage fright. Moriana took his hand and led him down the steps to the Skull way.

'Relax, Fost,' she said in a low voice. 'It's over. There's no need to be nervous now.'

'I'm not used to this,' he said, looking out over the crowd assembled to cheer and venerate Moriana – and him.

'They're friends, all of them,' she assured him. And it seemed to be so. He saw Prudyn and Chasko, carrying weatherworn satchels containing Erimenes and Ziore. The muffled sounds of acrimonious dispute rose from within, each making vile and impossible claims about the other's actions. And beyond them Fost sighted Syriana and the red-haired young lady who was sudden death on rooftop snipers, and tanned foresters and bearded Northern men and even a few diffident men in the breastplates of Palace Guards.

As they neared the Circle of the Skywell, however, Fost's unease returned.

'Moriana, where are the Fallen Ones? I don't see a single one of your Zr'gsz anywhere.'

'They're hardly my Zr'gsz/ she answered. 'They're in the catacombs inventorying their religious relics. I suppose they'll want to load them on their skyrafts and be gone as soon as possible. After all, it's been millennia since the Zr'gsz had much commerce with humans. All this must upset them greatly.'

'It upsets me,' said Fost, with feeling. But the nagging unease returned. What exactly was it that upset him? Perhaps it was nothing more than the presence of the Vicar of Istu in the Skywell. He peered suspiciously at the basalt statue. It remained immobile.

Then Fost's attentions were diverted to the ceremony. The crowd melted away to give Moriana room. A pimply adolescent knelt with her burden at Moriana's feet. Moriana bade her rise.

'As the youngest of the warriors who took part in the capture of the Palace of Winds,' Moriana declared, 'Ufrt Tonamil has earned the privilege to crown the new ruler of the City in the Sky.' The crowd roared agreement. Moriana knelt as the child fumbled with the wrappings on the package. She soon revealed the winged silver crown of the City's rulers.

Ufri Tonamil hoisted the crown high, held it a moment, then stepped forward to place it on Moriana's head.

'All hail Moriana!' she cried. 'Queen of the City in the Sky, Scion of the Skyborn, Mistress of the Clouds!'

Moriana rose. The crowd went to its knees as one. Fost watched, then decided he should kneel, also. Immediately Moriana seized his arm and yanked him to his feet.

'No one need kneel before me,' she proclaimed. 'Rise, my people.'

They did. They swept forward and raised their new queen to their shoulders. Fost laughed at her expression, then cried out as he felt hands raising him, too. Moriana caught his eye. His lips formed the words, 'We won!'

And they had. They'd won not just the Sky City, they'd thwarted the Dark Ones themselves. The Second War of Powers Jennas had direly predicted would never happen. That was their true victory.

The boiling crowd turned Fost around. For a brief instant the Vicar of Istu flashed in his sight. His heart missed a beat. Then the crowd was bearing them toward the Palace of Winds, and its jubilation caught him up like the surge of a sea-wave.

And in the depths of the City, a Demon stirred.