Sinner

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Epigraph

  Map

  Fire-Night

  Prologue

  1 West and North

  2 Master Goldman’s Soiree

  3 StarSon Caelum

  4 Beggars on the Floor, Travellers O’er the Bridge

  5 Speaking Treason

  6 The SunSoars at Home

  7 Disturbing Arrivals

  8 Maze Gate

  9 WolfStar’s Explanation

  10 Pastry Magics

  11 Niah’s Legacy

  12 Council of the Five Families

  13 The Throne of Achar

  14 A Moot Point

  15 Murder!

  16 SunSoar Justice

  17 The Lake Guard on Duty

  18 Hunting Drago

  19 The Fugitive

  20 Icebear Coast Camp

  21 Travelling Home

  22 Impatient Love

  23 Minstrelsea

  24 StarDrifter

  25 DragonStar

  26 The Sack (1)

  27 Niah Triumphant

  28 River Crossing

  29 The Ancient Barrows

  30 The Rainbow Sceptre

  31 New Existences

  32 The Questors

  33 StarLaughter

  34 Of What Is Lost

  35 SpikeFeather’s Search

  36 Kastaleon

  37 The Leap

  38 Zenith Lost

  39 The Maze

  40 The Maze Gate’s Message

  41 A Town Gained, a Sceptre Lost

  42 ForestFligh’s Betrayal

  43 Faraday’s Lie

  44…And Sixty-Nine Fat Pigs

  45 The Enemy

  46 The TimeKeepers

  47 Niah’s Grove

  48 Carlon’s Welcome

  49 Caelum Amid the Ruins

  50 The Shadow-Lands

  51 The King of Achar

  52 Voices in the Night

  53 An Army for the Asking

  54 Journeying through the Night

  55 The Blighted Beacon

  56 Discussing Salvation

  57 While WolfStar Lay Sleeping

  58 As Clear as a Temple Bell

  59 Zenith

  60 Old Friends

  61 An Army of Norsmen

  62 The Warding of the Star Gate

  63 Leagh’s Loyalties Divided

  64 A Dagger from Behind

  65 A Brother to Die For

  66 In Caelum’s Camp

  67 Caelum’s Judgment

  68 Towards the Star Gate

  69 The Fading of the Dance

  70 Leap to the Edge

  71 The Sack (2)

  Epilogue: The Wasteland

  Glossary

  The Axis Trilogy

  The Wayfarer Redeption

  Threshold

  Praise for Sara Douglass

  About the Author

  Books by Sara Douglass

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Epigraph

  If poisonous minerals, and if that tree

  Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,

  If lecherous goats, if serpents envious

  Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be?

  Why should intent or reason, born in me,

  Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?

  John Donne, Holy Sonnet no. V

  Map

  Fire-Night

  The four craft crashed through the barriers between the outer universe and the planet, exploding in raging flames, creating the portal that later races would call the Star Gate.

  The creatures inside fought for control of the craft, fought even knowing it was a lost cause – the craft had ceased to listen to them hundreds of years previously. But even when death was only moments away, their hands clung to navigation mechanisms, hoping to somehow save their cargo…and maybe even save the world to which they plummeted from their cargo.

  It was useless. Most of them were drifting ashes by the time their flaming craft smashed deep into the surface of the planet.

  Most of them. One, like the four craft, survived.

  Within days the craft had shifted comfortably into the pits created by their violent arrival, accepting the waters that closed over their surface. For three thousand years they dreamed. Then they woke and began to grow, spreading their tentacles deep beneath the land, reaching out, each to the other. Their metalled surfaces and walkways and panels and compartments hummed with the music they had learned in the millennia they’d travelled the universe. But this music the craft kept to themselves, not letting it mix with the sound of the Star Dance that filtered through the Star Gate.

  The Survivor occasionally woke from his own deep sleep, wandering the corridors of the craft and those hallways that extended between each craft, looking, looking, looking, but never finding.

  “Katie!” he would cry, “Katie! I don’t know where it is!”

  His searching always left him physically and emotionally exhausted, and within days of waking he would wander disconsolately back to his chamber, and there lie down to sleep yet again.

  His dreams were disturbed, wondering why he’d survived, and yet not his comrades.

  Wondering what the craft needed him to do.

  Wondering whether the cargo was safe.

  Wondering whether it would ever be claimed.

  Wondering.

  Aeons passed.

  Prologue

  Enchanter-Talon WolfStar SunSoar wrapped his wings tighter about his body and slipped deeper into the madness that consumed him. He stood at the very lip of the Star Gate itself, his body swaying gently to the sounds of the Star Dance that pounded through the Gate.

  Come to me, come to me, join me, dance with me! Come!

  Oh! How WolfStar wanted to! How he wanted to fling himself through the Gate, discover the mysteries and adventures of the universe, immerse himself completely in the loveliness of the Star Dance.

  Yet WolfStar also wanted the pleasures of this life. The power he wielded as Talon over all Tencendor, the awe of the masses of Icarii, Avar and Acharite, and the firmness of StarLaughter’s body in his bed at night. He was not yet ready to give all that up. He had come young to the Talon throne, and wanted to enjoy it for as long as he could. But how the Star Gate tempted him…

  Come! Join me! Be my lover! I have all the power you crave!

  WolfStar could feel the indecision tearing him apart. Stars! What sorcery could be his if he managed to discover the full power of the Star Dance and ruled this mortal realm of Tencendor!

  I want it all, he thought, all! But how?

  If he surrendered to the almost irresistible lure of the Star Gate and threw himself in, then WolfStar also wanted to know he could come back. Return and flaunt his new-found power and knowledge. Revel in it. Use it. Of what use was power if it could not be used in life?

  WolfStar was destined for legendary greatness. He knew it.

  He shifted on the lip of the Star Gate and his mouth twisted in anger and frustration. What more could he do?

  Over the past weeks he had selected the most powerful of the young Enchanters among the Icarii and had thrown them through the Star Gate. Come back, he had ordered, with the secrets of the universe in your hand. Share them with me. Tell me how I can step through the Star Gate and yet come back.

  They were young, and their lives could be wasted, if waste it was.

  But none had returned, and WolfStar was consumed with rage. How was he to learn the secrets and mysteries of the Star Gate, of the very universe itself, if they did not come back? Why did they refuse to come back?

  Their weakness, their lack of courage, and their consummate failure meant that the mysteries of the stars were denied
WolfStar until after his death. No, no, no…he could not countenance that. He couldn’t!

  “WolfStar?”

  WolfStar’s body stiffened and he barely restrained himself from letting his power bolt in anger about the chamber. “My title is Talon, CloudBurst. I command that you use it.”

  “Brother, you must stop this madness. Nothing gives you the right to murder so many –”

  “Murder?” WolfStar leaped down from the lip of the Gate and grasped his brother’s hair, wrenching CloudBurst’s head back. “Murder? They are adventurers, CloudBurst, and they have a duty to their Talon. And they are doing that duty badly!”

  “WolfStar –”

  “My title is Talon!” WolfStar screamed and twisted CloudBurst’s head until the birdman’s neck creaked and his face contorted in agony.

  “Talon,” CloudBurst whispered, and WolfStar’s grip loosened. “Talon, you are throwing these children to their deaths. How many lives have been wasted now? Two hundred? More, Talon, more!”

  “They would not die if they crawled back through the Star Gate. They have wasted themselves, not I. They have failed. Their blame, not mine.”

  “No-one has ever come back through the –”

  “That is not to say no-one can, CloudBurst.” WolfStar finally let CloudBurst go and stood back. “Perhaps they are not strong enough. I need young Enchanters of powerful blood. Very powerful.” His eyes locked with CloudBurst’s.

  “No!” CloudBurst sank to his knees, quivering hands outstretched in appeal. “No! I beg you. Not –”

  “Bring me your daughter, CloudBurst. StarGrace has SunSoar power. Part of her shares my blood. Perhaps she will succeed where others have failed.”

  “No! WolfStar, I cannot –”

  “I am Talon,” WolfStar hissed. “I am WolfStar SunSoar, and I command you! Obey me!”

  But StarGrace did not return, either. WolfStar muttered instructions and orders to the terrified, sobbing sixteen-year-old girl as he seized her by her wings and hurled her into the Star Gate. But like all the others, she only cartwheeled into the pit of the universe to vanish completely. WolfStar stood at the lip of the Star Gate for two full days, watching and waiting, taking neither food nor drink, before he cursed StarGrace for all eternity for her weakness and failure and stepped back.

  He jumped, startled.

  “You are tired, my husband. Will you not take some rest?”

  StarLaughter stepped forward from the shadows of the arches. “Come with me, my love, and let me warm and soothe you to sleep.”

  WolfStar reached out and smoothed his wife’s dark hair back from her face. She was his first cousin, close SunSoar blood, and second only to him in Enchanter power. So powerful.

  Perhaps too powerful. For months now WolfStar had good reason to suspect StarLaughter plotted against him, plotted to take the title of Talon for herself.

  WolfStar almost laughed. She must be mad to think she could wrest power from him.

  He caressed her cheek, his fingers gentle, and StarLaughter forced herself to smile, even though her love for her husband was long dead.

  WolfStar leaned forward and kissed her softly, allowing his hand to slide down over her body until he felt the energy throbbing through her swollen belly. His son, and so powerful, so powerful…did his unborn son conspire with Star Laughter? Was their son the reason she thought she could best him?

  WolfStar’s hand stilled. His son. Even unborn he wielded more power than any other Enchanter he’d sent through the Star Gate. His son.

  Perhaps he could succeed…his son. And it would certainly solve the more immediate problem of StarLaughter’s treachery.

  StarLaughter’s hands closed over his and wrenched it away from her body.

  No! she screamed through his mind.

  “I need to know, beloved,” WolfStar whispered. “I need to know if I can come back. I need someone to show me the way. Who better than our son?”

  “You would throw a newborn infant through? You would murder our son?”

  StarLaughter took a step back. The birth was only weeks away – how far could she get in that time? Far enough to save her son’s life? Far enough to save her own life? What did WolfStar know? How much could he know?

  “Too much!” WolfStar cried, and leaped forward and grabbed her. “Consider yourself a fit sacrifice for your son, StarLaughter. Your body will protect him from the ravages of passage through the Gate, my lovely. Will you not do this for our son? He will come back, I am sure of it.”

  And once he does, WolfStar thought, I shall divest him of his knowledge and then of his life.

  Now so terrified she could not even speak with the mind voice, StarLaughter shook her head in denial, her eyes huge and round, her hands clasped protectively over her belly.

  “WolfStar, not your wife! Not StarLaughter!” CloudBurst stepped into the chamber, accompanied by several Crest-Leaders from the Icarii Strike Force.

  WolfStar growled in fury and lashed out with his power, pinning them to the floor. “Anyone I choose…anyone!”

  He dragged StarLaughter across to the Star Gate. In her extremity of fear she found her voice and screamed as she felt her legs touch the low wall surrounding the Star Gate. “No! WolfStar! No! No! No!”

  It was the last thing anyone heard from StarLaughter for a very, very long time.

  Five days later CloudBurst’s remorse and grief gave him the courage to plunge the twin-bladed knife into WolfStar’s back in the centre of the Icarii Assembly on the Island of Mist and Memory.

  He gave one sobbing, hiccuping sigh as WolfStar sank to the mosaic floor, and then he relaxed. It was over. The horror was finally over.

  There was no grief among the peoples of Tencendor when WolfStar SunSoar’s body was laid to rest in his hastily constructed Barrow above the Chamber of the Star Gate. With WolfStar dead, entombed, and on his own way through the Star Gate, Tencendor was at last safe from his madness.

  Four thousand years passed. Tencendor was riven apart by the Seneschal and then restored by the StarMan, Axis SunSoar. The Icarii and the Avar returned to the southern lands, and the Star Gods, Axis and Azhure among them, were free to roam as they willed. Even though WolfStar had managed to come back through the Star Gate, he vanished once Axis had won his struggle with Gorgrael. Control of Tencendor, and the Throne of the Stars itself, passed from Axis to his son and heir, Caelum. Tencendor waxed bright and strong under the House of the Stars. All was well.

  1

  West and North

  His wing-span as wide as a man was tall, the speckled blue eagle floated high in the sky above the silvery waters of Grail Lake. The day was calm and warm, the thermals inviting, but for the moment the eagle resisted climbing any higher. He tilted his head slightly, his predatory gaze undimmed by his vast age, taking in the pink and cream stone walls and the gold- and silver-plated roofs of the city of Carlon. The eagle’s gaze was only casual, for it was almost noon, and the streets so busy that all rodents would have secreted themselves deep in their lairs many hours previously. The eagle was not particularly concerned. He had feasted well on fish earlier, and now he tilted his wings, sweeping over the white-walled seven-sided tower of Spiredore.

  The power emanating from the tower vibrated the eagle’s wings pleasantly, and made the old bird reflect momentarily on the changes in this land over his lifetime. When he had been newly feathered and only just able to stay aloft, he’d flown over this same lake and tower with the eagle who had fathered him. Then the tower had been still and silent, and the land treeless. Men had scurried below, axes in their hands and the Plough God Artor in their hearts. Ice had invaded from the north and Gryphon – creatures whom even eagles feared – had darkened the skies. But all that had changed. A great battle had been fought in the icy tundra far to the north, the ice had retreated and the Gryphon had disappeared from the thermals. In the west, enchanted forests had reached for the sky, and the white tower below had reverberated with power and song. The armies that had crawl
ed about the land in destructive, serpentine trails disbanded, and now the peoples of this enchanted land – those who called themselves human, Icarii and Avar – shared their lives shoulder to shoulder in apparent harmony.

  Contented, knowing that the score of chicks he had raised over his lifetime would have nothing more to fear than the anger of a sudden storm, the eagle tipped his wings and spiralled higher and higher until he was no more than a distant speck in the sky.

  Leagh stood at the open windows of her apartments in the north wing of the Prince of the West’s palace in Carlon, watching the eagle fade from sight. Sighing, for watching the bird had calmed the ache in her heart, she dropped her gaze slightly to the ancient Icarii palace that loomed above the entire city. It seemed to Leagh that the palace looked lonely and sad in the bright sunshine. And so it should, she thought, for StarSon Caelum so rarely leaves Sigholt now that he only uses his palace in Carlon every three or four years.

  Leagh did not covet the magnificent Icarii palace. Her older brother Askam’s palace was spacious and elegant, and grand enough for Leagh, who was a woman of conservative tastes and temperate habits. She dropped her eyes yet further, down to the gently lapping waters of the lake. A gentle easterly breeze blew across the waves, lifting the glossy nut-brown hair from her brow and sweeping it back over her shoulders in tumbling waves. Leagh had the dark blue eyes of her mother, Cazna, but had inherited her hair, good looks and calm temperament from her father, Belial. She had loved her father dearly, and still missed him, even though he’d been dead a decade. He’d been her best friend when she was growing up, and to lose him when she’d been sixteen had been a cruel blow.

  “Stop it!” she murmured to herself. “Why heap yet more sadness and loneliness on your heart?”

  Gods, why could she not have been born a simple peasant girl rather than a princess? Surely peasant women had more luck in following their hearts! Here she was at twenty-six, all but locked into her brother’s palace, when most women her age were married with toddlers clinging to their skirts.