Читать книгу The Complete Tamuli Trilogy: Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City - David Eddings - Страница 14

The fog drifted in from the river not long after the sun went down that evening. The nights in Cimmura were always foggy in the spring when it wasn’t raining. Sparhawk, Stragen and Talen left the palace wearing plain clothing and heavy traveller’s cloaks and rode to the southeast quarter of town.

‘You don’t necessarily have to tell your wife I said this, Sparhawk,’ Stragen noted, looking around with distaste, ‘but her capital’s one of the least attractive cities in the world. You’ve got a truly miserable climate here.’

‘It’s not so bad in the summer-time,’ Sparhawk replied a little defensively.

‘I missed last summer,’ the blond thief said. ‘I took a short nap one afternoon and slept right through it. Where are we going?’

‘We want to see Platime.’

‘As I recall, his cellar’s near the west gate of the city. You’re taking us in the wrong direction.’

‘We have to go to a certain inn first.’ Sparhawk looked back over his shoulder. ‘Are we being followed, Talen?’ he asked.

‘Naturally.’

Sparhawk grunted. ‘That’s more or less what I expected.’

They rode on with the thick mist swirling around the legs of their horses and making the fronts of the nearby houses dim and hazy-looking. They reached the inn on Rose Street, and a surly-appearing porter admitted them to the inn yard and closed the gate behind them.

‘Anything you find out about this place isn’t for general dissemination,’ Sparhawk told Talen and Stragen as he dismounted. He handed Faran’s reins to the porter. ‘You know about this horse, don’t you, brother?’ he warned the man.

‘He’s a legend, Sparhawk,’ the porter replied. ‘The things you wanted are in the room at the top of the stairs.’

‘How’s the crowd in the tavern tonight?’

‘Loud, smelly and mostly drunk.’

‘There’s nothing new about that. What I meant, though, was how many of them are there?’

‘Fifteen or twenty. There are three of our men in there who know what to do.’

‘Good. Thank you, Sir Knight.’

‘You’re welcome, Sir Knight.’

Sparhawk led Talen and Stragen up the stairs.

‘This inn, I gather, isn’t altogether what it seems,’ Stragen observed.

‘The Pandions own it,’ Talen told him. ‘They come here when they don’t want to attract attention.’

‘There’s a little more to it than that,’ Sparhawk told him. He opened the door at the top of the stairs, and the three of them entered.

Stragen looked at the workmen’s smocks hanging on pegs near the door. ‘We’re going to resort to subterfuge, I see.’

‘It’s fairly standard practice,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Let’s get changed. I’d sort of like to get back to the palace before my wife sends out search parties.’

The smocks were of blue canvas, worn and patched and with a few artfully-placed smudges on them. There were woollen leggings as well and thick-soled workmen’s boots. The caps were baggy affairs, designed more to keep off weather than they were for appearance.

‘You’re going to have to leave that here,’ Sparhawk said, pointing at Stragen’s rapier. ‘It’s a little obvious.’ The big Pandion tucked a heavy dagger under his belt.

‘You know that there are people watching the gate of the inn, don’t you, Sparhawk?’ Talen said.

‘I hope they enjoy their evening. We aren’t going out through the gate, though.’ Sparhawk led them back down to the inn yard, crossed to a narrow door in a side wall and opened it. The warm air that boiled out through the doorway smelled of stale beer and unwashed bodies. The three of them went inside and closed the door behind them. They seemed to be in a small storeroom. The straw on the floor was mouldy.

‘Where are we?’ Talen whispered.

‘In a tavern,’ Sparhawk replied softly. ‘There’s going to be a fight in just a few minutes. We’ll slip out into the main room during the confusion.’ He went to the curtained doorway leading out into the tavern and twitched the curtain several times. ‘All right,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll mingle with the crowd during the fight, and after a while, we’ll leave. Behave as if you’re slightly drunk, but don’t over-do it.’

‘I’m impressed,’ Stragen said.

‘I’m more than impressed,’ Talen added. ‘Not even Platime knows that there’s more than one way out of that inn.’

The fight began not long after that. It was noisy, involving a great deal of shouting and pushing and finally a few blows. Two totally uninvolved and evidently innocent by-standers were knocked senseless during the course of the altercation. Sparhawk and his friends smoothly insinuated themselves into the crowd, and after ten minutes or so, they reeled out through the door.

‘A little unprofessional,’ Stragen sniffed. ‘A staged fight shouldn’t involve the spectators that way.’

‘It should when the spectators might be looking for something other than a few tankards of ale,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘The two who fell asleep weren’t regular patrons in the tavern. They might have been completely innocent, but then again, they might not. This way, we don’t have to worry about them trailing along behind us.’

‘There’s more to being a Pandion Knight than I thought,’ Talen noted. ‘I may like it after all.’

They walked through the foggy streets towards the rundown quarter near the west gate, a maze of interconnecting lanes and unpaved alleys. They entered one of those alleys and went through it to a flight of muddy stone stairs leading down. A thick-bodied man lounged against the stone wall beside the stairs. ‘You’re late,’ he said to Talen in a flat voice.

‘We had to make sure we weren’t being followed,’ the boy shrugged.

‘Go on down,’ the man told them. ‘Platime’s waiting.’

The cellar hadn’t changed. It was still smoky and dim, and it was filled with a babble of coarse voices coming from the thieves, whores and cutthroats who lived there.

‘I don’t know how Platime can stand this place,’ Stragen shuddered.

Platime sat enthroned on a large chair on the other side of a smoky fire burning in an open pit. He heaved himself to his feet when he saw Sparhawk. ‘Where have you been?’ he bellowed in a thunderous voice.

‘Making sure that we weren’t followed,’ Sparhawk replied.

The fat man grunted. ‘He’s back here,’ he said, leading them toward the rear of the cellar. ‘He’s very interested in his health at the moment, so I’m keeping him more or less out of sight.’ He pushed his way into a small, closet-like chamber where a man sat on a stool nursing a tankard of watery beer. The man was a small. nervous-looking fellow with thinning hair and a cringing manner.

‘This is Pelk,’ Platime said. ‘He’s a sneak-thief. I sent him to Cardos to have a look around and to see what he could find out about some people we’re interested in. Tell him what you found out, Pelk.’

‘Well sir, good masters,’ the weedy man began, ‘it tuk me a goodly while to git close to them fellers, I’ll tell the world, but I made myself useful, an’ they finally sort of accepted me. They was all sorts of rigimarole I had to go thoo – swearin’ oaths an’ gettin’ blindfolded the first couple times they tuk me to ther camp an all, but after a while, they kinda let down ther guard, an’ I come an’ went purty much as I pleased. Like Platime prob’ly tole you, we figgered at first they wuz jist a buncha amachoors what didn’t know nothin’ about the way things is supposed to be did. We sees that sorta thing all the time, don’t we, Platime? Them’s the kind as gits therselves caught an’ hung.’

‘And good riddance to them,’ Platime growled.

‘Well sir,’ Pelk continued, ‘like I say, me’n Platime, we figgered as how them fellers in the mountings was jist a buncha them amachoors I tole you about – fellers what’d took up cuttin’ th’oats fer fun an’ profit, don’t y’know. As she turns out, howsomever, they was more’n that. Ther leaders was six er seven noblemen as was real disappointed ‘bout the way the big plans of the Primate Annias fell on ther faces, an’ they was powerful unhappy ‘bout what the queen had writ down on the warrants she put out fer ’em – nobles not bein’ accustomed to bein’ called them sorta names.

‘Well sir, t’ short it up some, these here noblemen all run off into the mountings ‘bout one jump ahead of the hangman, an’ they tuk t’ robbin’ travellers t’ make ends meet an’ spent the resta ther time thinkin’ up nasty names t’ call the queen.’

‘Get to the point, Pelk,’ Platime told him wearily.

‘Yessir, I wuz jist about to. Well now, it went on like that fer a spell, an’ then this here Krager feller, he come into camp, an’ some of them there nobles, they knowed him. He tole ’em as how he knowed some furriners as’d help ’em out iffn they’d raise enough fuss here in Elenia t’ keep the queen an’ her folks from gittin’ too curious ‘bout some stuff what’s goin’ on off in Lamorkand. This here Krager feller, he sez as how this stuff in Lamorkand might just could be a way fer ’em all t’ change the way ther forchunes bin goin’ since ol’ Annias got hisself kilt. Well, sir, them dukes an’ earls an’ such got real innerested at that point, an’ they tole us all t’ go talk t’ the local peasants an’ t’ start runnin’ down the tax-collectors an’ t’ say as how it ain’t natural fer no country t’ be run by no woman an’ the like. We wuz supposed t’ stir up them peasants an’ t’ git ’em t’ talkin’ among therselves ‘bout how the people oughtta all git together an’ thow the queen out an’ the like, an’ then them nobles, they caught a few tax collectors an’ hung ‘em an’ give the money back t’ the folks it’d been stole from in the first place, an’ them peasants, they wuz all happy as pigs in mud ‘bout that.’ Pelk scratched at his head. ‘Well sir, I guess I’ve said m’ piece now. At’s the way she stands in the mountings now. This here Krager feller, he’s got some money with ’im, an’ he’s mighty free with it, so them nobles what’s bin on short rations is gettin’ downright fond of ’im.’

‘Pelk,’ Sparhawk told him, ‘you’re a treasure.’ He gave the man several coins, and then he and his friends left the cubicle.

‘What are we going to do about it, Sparhawk?’ Platime asked.

‘We’re going to take steps,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘How many of these “liberators” are there?’

‘A hundred or so.’

‘I’ll need a couple dozen of your men who know the country.’

Platime nodded. ‘Are you going to bring in the army?’

‘I don’t think so. I think a troop of Pandions might make a more lasting impression on people who think they have grievances against our queen, don’t you?’

‘Isn’t that just a bit extreme?’ Stragen asked him.

‘I want to make a statement, Stragen. I want everybody in Elenia to know just how much I disapprove of people who start plotting against my wife. I don’t want to have to do it again, so I’m going to do it right the first time.’

‘He didn’t actually talk like that, did he, Sparhawk?’ Ehlana asked incredulously.

‘That’s fairly close,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘Stragen’s got a very good ear for dialect.’

‘It’s almost hypnotic, isn’t it?’ she marvelled, ‘and it goes on and on and on.’ She suddenly grinned impishly. ‘Write down “happy as pigs in mud”, Lenda. I may want to find a way to work that into some official communication.’

‘As you wish, your Majesty.’ Lenda’s tone was neutral, but Sparhawk knew that the old courtier disapproved.

‘What are we going to do about this?’ the queen asked.

‘Sparhawk said that he was going to take steps, your Majesty,’ Talen told her. ‘You might not want to know too many details.’

‘Sparhawk and I don’t keep secrets from each other, Talen.’

‘I’m not talking about secrets, your Majesty,’ the boy replied innocently. ‘I’m just talking about boring unimportant little things you shouldn’t really waste your time on.’ He made it sound very plausible, but Ehlana looked more than a little suspicious.

‘Don’t embarrass me, Sparhawk,’ she warned.

‘Of course not,’ he replied blandly.

The campaign was brief. Since Pelk knew the precise location of the camp of the dissidents, and Platime’s men knew all the other hiding places in the surrounding mountains, there was no real place for the bandits to run, and they were certainly no match for the thirty black-armoured Pandions Sparhawk, Kalten and Ulath led against them. The surviving nobles were held for the queen’s justice and the rest of the outlaws were turned over to the local sheriff for disposition.

‘Well, my Lord of Belton,’ Sparhawk said to an earl crouched before him on a log, with a blood-stained bandage around his head and his hands bound behind him. ‘Things didn’t turn out so well, did they?’

‘Curse you, Sparhawk.’ Belton spat, squinting up against the afternoon’s brightness. ‘How did you find out where we were?’

‘My dear Belton,’ Sparhawk laughed, ‘you didn’t really think you could hide from my wife, did you? She takes a very personal interest in her kingdom. She knows every tree, every town and village and all of the peasants. It’s even rumoured that she knows most of the deer by their first names.’

‘Why didn’t you come after us earlier then?’ Belton sneered.

‘The queen was busy. She finally found the time to make some decisions about you and your friends. I don’t imagine you’ll care much for these decisions, old boy. What I’m really interested in is any information you might have about Krager. He and I haven’t seen each other for quite some time, and I find myself yearning for his company again.’

Belton’s eyes grew frightened. ‘You won’t get anything from me, Sparhawk,’ he blustered.

‘How much would you care to wager on that?’ Kalten asked him. ‘You’d save yourself a great deal of unpleasantness if you told Sparhawk what he wants to know, and Krager’s not so loveable that you’d really want to go through that in order to protect him.’

‘Just talk, Belton,’ Sparhawk insisted implacably.

‘I – I can’t!’ Belton’s sneering bravado crumbled. His face turned deathly pale, and he began to tremble violently. ‘Sparhawk, I beg of you. It means my life if I say anything.’

‘Your life isn’t worth very much right now anyway,’ Ulath told him bluntly. ‘One way or another, you are going to talk.’

‘For God’s sake, Sparhawk! You don’t know what you’re asking!’

‘I’m not asking, Belton.’ Sparhawk’s face was bleak.

Then, without any warning or reason, a deathly chill suddenly enveloped the woods, and the mid-afternoon sun darkened. Sparhawk glanced upward. The sky was very blue, but the sun appeared wan and sickly.

Belton screamed.

An inky cloud seemed to spring from the surrounding trees, coalescing around the shrieking prisoner. Sparhawk jumped back with a startled oath, his hand going to his sword-hilt.

Belton’s voice had risen to a screech, and there were horrible sounds coming from the impenetrable darkness surrounding him – sounds of breaking bones and tearing flesh. The shrieking broke off quite suddenly, but the sounds continued for several eternal-seeming minutes. Then, as quickly as it had come, the cloud vanished.

Sparhawk recoiled in revulsion. His prisoner had been torn to pieces.

‘Good God!’ Kalten gasped. ‘What happened?’

‘We both know, Kalten,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We’ve seen it before. Don’t try to question any of the other prisoners. I’m almost positive they won’t be allowed to answer.’

There were five of them, Sparhawk, Ehlana, Kalten, Ulath and Stragen. They had gathered in the royal apartments, and their mood was bleak.

‘Was it the same cloud?’ Stragen asked intently.

‘There were some differences,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It was more in the way it felt rather than anything I could really pin down.’

‘Why would the Troll-Gods be so interested in protecting Krager?’ Ehlana asked, her face puzzled.

‘I don’t think it’s Krager they’re protecting,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I think it has something to do with what’s going on in Lamorkand.’ He slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. ‘I wish Sephrenia were here!’ he burst out with a sudden oath. ‘All we’re doing is groping in the dark.’

‘Would you be opposed to logic at this point?’ Stragen asked him.

‘I wouldn’t even be opposed to astrology just now,’ Sparhawk replied sourly.

‘All right.’ The blond Thalesian thief rose to his feet and began to pace up and down, his eyes thoughtful. ‘First of all, we know that somehow the Troll-Gods have got out of that box.’

‘Actually, you haven’t really proved that, Stragen,’ Ulath disagreed. ‘Not logically, anyway.’

Stragen stopped pacing. ‘He’s right, you know,’ he admitted. ‘We’ve been basing that conclusion on a guess. All we can say with any logical certainty is that we’ve encountered something that looks and feels like a manifestation of the Troll-Gods. Would you accept that, Sir Ulath?’

‘I suppose I could go that far, Milord Stragen.’

‘I’m so happy. Do we know of anything else that does the same sort of things?’

‘No,’ Ulath replied, ‘but that’s not really relevant. We don’t know about everything. There could be dozens of things we don’t know about that take the form of shadows or clouds, tear people all to pieces and give humans a chilly feeling when they’re around.’

‘I’m not sure that logic is really getting us anywhere,’ Stragen conceded.

‘There’s nothing wrong with your logic, Stragen,’ Ehlana told him. ‘Your major premise is faulty, that’s all.’

‘You too, your Majesty?’ Kalten groaned. ‘I thought there was at least one other person in the room who relied on common sense rather than all this tedious logic.’

‘All right then, Sir Kalten,’ she said tartly, ‘what does your common sense tell you?’

‘Well, first off, it tells me that you’re all going at the problem backwards. The question we should be asking is what makes Krager so special that something supernatural would go out of its way to protect him? Does it really matter what the supernatural thing is at the moment?’

‘He might have something there, you know?’ Ulath said. ‘Krager’s a cockroach basically. His only real reason for existing is to be stepped on.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Ehlana disagreed. ‘Krager worked for Martel, and Martel worked for Annias.’

‘Actually, dear, it was the other way around,’ Sparhawk corrected her.

She waved that distinction aside. ‘Belton and the others were all allied to Annias, and Krager used to carry messages between Annias and Martel. Belton and his cohorts would almost certainly have known Krager. Pelk’s story more or less confirms that. That’s what made Krager important in the first place.’ She paused, frowning. ‘But what made him important after the renegades were all in custody?’

‘Backtracking,’ Ulath grunted.

‘I beg your pardon?’ The queen looked baffled.

‘This whatever-it-is didn’t want us to be able to trace Krager back to his present employer.’

‘Oh, that’s obvious, Ulath,’ Kalten snorted. ‘His employer is Count Gerrich. Pelk told Sparhawk that there was somebody in Lamorkand who wanted to keep us so busy here in Elenia that we wouldn’t have time to take any steps to put down all the turmoil over there. That has to be Gerrich.’

‘You’re just guessing, Kalten,’ Ulath said. ‘You could very well be right, but it’s still just a guess.’

‘Do you see what I mean about logic?’ Kalten demanded of them. ‘What do you want, Ulath? A signed confession from Gerrich himself?’

‘Do you have one handy? All I’m saying is that we ought to keep an open mind. I don’t think we should close any doors yet, that’s all.’

There was a firm knock on the door, and it opened immediately afterward. Mirtai looked in. ‘Bevier and Tynian are here,’ she announced.

‘They’re supposed to be in Rendor,’ Sparhawk said. ‘What are they doing here?’

‘Why don’t you ask them?’ Mirtai suggested pointedly. ‘They’re right out here in the corridor.’

The two knights entered the room. Sir Bevier was a slim, olive-skinned Arcian, and Sir Tynian a blond, burly Deiran. Both were in full armour.

‘How are things in Rendor?’ Kalten asked them.

‘Hot, dry, dusty, hysterical,’ Tynian replied. ‘Rendor never changes. You know that.’

Bevier dropped to one knee before Ehlana. Despite the best efforts of his friends, the young Cyrinic Knight was still painfully formal. ‘Your Majesty,’ he murmured respectfully.

‘Oh, do stand up, my dear Bevier,’ she smiled at him. ‘We’re friends, so there’s no need for that. Besides, you creak like a rusty iron-works when you kneel.’

‘Overtrained, perhaps, your Majesty,’ he admitted.

‘What are you two doing back here?’ Sparhawk asked them.

‘Carrying dispatches,’ Tynian replied. ‘Darrellon’s running things down there, and he wants the other preceptors kept abreast of things. We’re also supposed to go on to Chyrellos and brief the Archprelate.’

‘How’s the campaign going?’ Kalten asked them.

‘Badly,’ Tynian shrugged. ‘The Rendorish rebels aren’t really organised, so there aren’t any armies for us to meet. They hide amongst the population and come out at night to set fires and assassinate priests. Then they run back into their holes. We take reprisals the next day – burn villages, slaughter herds of sheep and the like. None of it really proves anything.’

‘Do they have any kind of a leader as yet?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘They’re still discussing that,’ Bevier said dryly. ‘The discussions are quite spirited. We usually find several dead candidates in the alleys every morning.’

‘Sarathi blundered,’ Tynian said.

Bevier gasped.

‘I’m not trying to offend your religious sensibilities, my young friend,’ Tynian said, ‘but it’s the truth. Most of the clergymen he sent to Rendor were much more interested in punishment than in reconciliation. We had a chance for real peace in Rendor, and it fell apart because Dolmant didn’t send somebody down there to keep a leash on the missionaries.’ Tynian set his helmet on a table and unbuckled his sword-belt. ‘I even saw one silly ass in a cassock tearing the veils off women in the street. After the crowd seized him, he tried to order me to protect him. That’s the kind of priests the church has been sending to Rendor.’

‘What did you do?’ Stragen asked him.

‘For some reason I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying,’ Tynian replied. ‘All the noise the crowd was making, more than likely.’

‘What did they do to him?’ Kalten grinned.

‘They hanged him. Quite a neat job, actually.’

‘You didn’t even go to his defence?’ Bevier exclaimed.

‘Our instructions were very explicit, Bevier. We were told to protect the clergy against unprovoked attacks. That idiot violated the modesty of about a dozen Rendorish women. That crowd had plenty of provocation. The silly ass had it coming. If that crowd hadn’t hanged him, I probably would have. That’s what Darrellon wants us to suggest to Sarathi. He thinks the Church should pull all those fanatic missionaries out of Rendor until things quiet down. Then he suggests that we send in a new batch – a slightly less fervent one.’ The Alcione Knight laid his sword down beside his helmet and lowered himself into a chair. ‘What’s been happening here?’ he asked.

‘Why don’t the rest of you fill them in?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘There’s someone I want to talk with for a few minutes.’ He turned and quietly went back into the royal apartment.

The person he wanted to talk with was not some court functionary, but rather his own daughter. He found her playing with her kitten. After some thought, her Royal little Highness had decided to name the small animal ‘Mmrr’, a sound which, when she uttered it, sounded so much like the kitten’s purr that Sparhawk usually couldn’t tell for sure which of them was making it. Princess Danae had many gifts.

‘We need to talk,’ Sparhawk told her, closing the door behind him as he entered.

‘What is it now, Sparhawk?’ she asked.

‘Tynian and Bevier just arrived.’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Are you playing with things again? Are you deliberately gathering all our friends here?’

‘Of course I am, father.’

‘Would you mind telling me why?’

‘There’s something we’re going to need to do before long. I thought I’d save some time by getting everybody here in advance.’

‘You’d probably better tell me what it is that we have to do.’

‘I’m not supposed to do that.’

‘You never pay any attention to any of the other rules.’

‘This is different, father. We’re absolutely not supposed to talk about the future. If you think about it for a moment, I’m sure you’ll see why. Ouch!’ Mmrr had bitten her finger. Danae spoke sharply with the kitten – a series of little growls, a meow or two and concluding with a forgiving purr. The kitten managed to look slightly ashamed of itself and proceeded to lick the injured finger.

‘Please don’t talk in cat, Danae,’ Sparhawk said in a pained tone. ‘If some chambermaid hears you, it’ll take us both a month to explain.’

‘Nobody’s going to hear me, Sparhawk. You’ve got something else on your mind, haven’t you?’

‘I want to talk with Sephrenia. There are some things I don’t understand, and I need her help with them.’

‘I’ll help you, father.’

He shook his head. ‘Your explanations of things always leave me with more questions than I had when we started. Can you get in touch with Sephrenia for me?’

She looked around. ‘It probably wouldn’t be a good idea here in the palace, father,’ she told him. ‘It involves something that might be hard to explain if someone overheard us.’

‘You’re going to be in two places at the same time again?’

‘Well – sort of.’ She picked up her kitten. ‘Why don’t you find some excuse to take me out for a ride tomorrow morning? We’ll go out of the city and I can take care of things there. Tell mother that you want to give me a riding lesson.’

‘You don’t have a pony, Danae.’

She gave him an angelic smile. ‘My goodness,’ she said, ‘that sort of means that you’re going to have to give me one, doesn’t it?’

He gave her a long, steady look.

‘You were going to give me a pony eventually anyway, weren’t you, father?’ She gave it a moment’s thought. ‘A white one, Sparhawk,’ she added. ‘I definitely want a white one.’ Then she snuggled her kitten against her cheek, and they both started to purr.

Sparhawk and his daughter rode out of Cimmura not long after breakfast the following morning. The weather was blustery, and Mirtai had objected rather vociferously until Princess Danae told her not to be so fussy. For some reason, the word ‘fussy’ absolutely enraged the Tamul giantess. She stormed away, swearing in her own language.

It had taken Sparhawk hours to find a white pony for his daughter, and he was quite convinced after he had that it was the only white one in the whole town. When Danae greeted the stubby little creature like an old friend, he began to have a number of suspicions. Over the past couple of years, he and his daughter had painfully hammered out a list of the things she wasn’t supposed to do. The process had begun rather abruptly in the palace garden one summer afternoon when he had come around a box hedge to find a small swarm of fairies pollinating flowers under Danae’s supervision. Although she had probably been right when she had asserted that fairies were really much better at it than bees, he had firmly put his foot down. After a bit of thought this time, however, he decided not to make an issue of his daughter’s obvious connivance in obtaining a specific pony. He needed her help right now, and she might point out with a certain amount of justification that to forbid one form of what they had come to call ‘tampering’ while encouraging another was inconsistent.

‘Is this going to involve anything spectacular?’ he asked her when they were several miles out of town.

‘How do you mean, spectacular?’

‘You don’t have to fly or anything, do you?’

‘It’s awkward that way, but I can if you’d like.’

‘No, that’s all right, Danae. What I’m getting at is would you be doing anything that would startle travellers if we went out into this meadow a ways and you did whatever it is there?’

‘They won’t see a thing, father,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll race you to that tree out there.’ She didn’t even make a pretence of nudging her pony’s flanks, and despite Faran’s best efforts, the pony beat him to the tree by a good twenty yards. The big roan warhorse glowered suspiciously at the short-legged pony when Sparhawk reined him in.

‘You cheated,’ Sparhawk accused his daughter.

‘Only a little.’ She slid down from her pony and sat cross-legged under the tree. She lifted her small face and sang in a trilling, flute-like voice. Her song broke off, and for several moments she sat blank-faced and absolutely immobile. She did not even appear to be breathing, and Sparhawk had the chilling feeling that he was absolutely alone, although she clearly sat not two yards away from him.

‘What is it, Sparhawk?’ Danae’s lips moved, but it was Sephrenia’s voice that asked the question, and when Danae opened her eyes, they had changed. Danae’s eyes were very dark; Sephrenia’s were deep blue, almost lavender.

‘We miss you, little mother,’ he told her kneeling and kissing the palms of his daughter’s hands.

‘You called me from half-way round the world to tell me that? I’m touched, but …’

‘It’s something a little more, Sephrenia. We’ve been seeing that shadow again – the cloud too.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘I sort of thought so myself, but we keep seeing them all the same. It’s different, though. It feels different for one thing, and this time it’s not just Ehlana and I who see it. Stragen and Ulath saw it too.’

‘You’d better tell me exactly what’s been happening, Sparhawk.’

He went into greater detail about the shadow and then briefly described the incident in the mountains near Cardos. ‘Whatever this thing is,’ he concluded, ‘it seems very intent on keeping us from finding out what’s going on in Lamorkand.’

‘Is there some kind of trouble there?’

‘Count Gerrich is raising a rebellion. He seems to think that the crown might fit him. He’s even going so far as to claim that Drychtnath’s returned. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

Her eyes grew distant. ‘Is this shadow you’ve been seeing exactly the same as the one you and Ehlana saw before?’ she asked.

‘It feels different somehow.’

‘Do you get that same sense that it has more than one consciousness in it?’

‘That hasn’t changed. It’s a small group, but it’s a group all the same, and the cloud that tore the Earl of Belton to pieces was definitely the same. Did the Troll-Gods manage to escape from Bhelliom somehow?’

‘Let me think my way through it for a moment, Sparhawk,’ she replied. She considered it for a time. In a curious way she was impressing her own appearance on Danae’s face. ‘I think we may have a problem, dear one,’ she said finally.

‘I noticed that myself, little mother.’

‘Stop trying to be clever, Sparhawk. Do you remember the Dawn-men who came out of that cloud up in Pelosia?’

Sparhawk shuddered. ‘I’ve been making a special point of trying to forget that.’

‘Don’t discount the possibility that the wild stories about Drychtnath may have some basis in fact. The Troll-Gods can reach back in time and bring creatures and people forward to where we are now. Drychtnath may very well indeed have returned.’

Sparhawk groaned. ‘Then the Troll-Gods have managed to escape, haven’t they?’

‘I didn’t say that, Sparhawk. Just because the Troll-Gods did this once doesn’t mean that they’re the only ones who know how. For all I know, Aphrael could do it herself.’ She paused. ‘You could have asked her these questions, you know.’

‘Possibly, but I don’t think I could have asked her this one, because I don’t think she’d know the answer. She doesn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept of limitations for some reason.’

‘You’ve noticed,’ she said dryly.

‘Be nice. She’s my daughter, after all.’

‘She was my sister first, so I have a certain amount of seniority in the matter. What is it that she wouldn’t be able to answer?’

‘Could a Styric magician – or any other magician – be behind all this? Could we be dealing with a human?’

‘No, Sparhawk, I don’t think so. In forty thousand years there have only been two Styric magicians who were able to reach back into time, and they could only do it imperfectly. For all practical purposes what we’re talking about is beyond human capability.’

‘That’s what I wanted to find out for sure. We’re dealing with Gods then?’

‘I’m afraid so, Sparhawk, almost certainly.’