Читать книгу The Complete Tamuli Trilogy: Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City - David Eddings - Страница 26

‘That’s impossible!’ Sparhawk exclaimed.

Monsel was taken aback by his sudden vehemence. ‘We have more than ample evidence, Sir Sparhawk. The serf who reported the fact has known him since childhood. You’ve met Elron, I gather.’

‘We took shelter from a storm in Baron Kotyk’s house,’ Emban explained. ‘Elron could be Sabre, you know, Sparhawk. He’s certainly got the right kind of mentality. Why are you so certain he’s not the one?’

‘He couldn’t have caught up with us,’ Sparhawk said lamely.

Monsel looked baffled.

‘We saw Sabre in the woods on our way here,’ Emban told him. ‘It was the sort of thing you’d expect – a masked man in black on a black horse outlined against the sky – silliest thing I ever saw. We weren’t really moving all that fast, Sparhawk. Elron could have caught up with us quite easily.’

Sparhawk could not tell him that they had, in fact, been moving far too rapidly for anyone to have caught them – not with Aphrael tampering with time and distance the way she had been. He choked back his objections. ‘It just surprised me, that’s all,’ he lied. ‘Stragen and I spoke with Elron the night we were there. I can’t believe he’d be out stirring up the serfs. He had nothing but contempt for them.’

‘A pose, perhaps?’ Monsel suggested. ‘Something to conceal his real feelings?’

‘I don’t think he’s capable of that, your Grace. He was too ingenuous for that kind of subtlety.’

‘Don’t be too quick to make judgements, Sparhawk,’ Emban told him. ‘If there’s magic involved, it wouldn’t make any difference what kind of man Sabre is, would it? Isn’t there some way he could be rather tightly controlled?’

‘Several, actually,’ Sparhawk admitted.

‘I’m a little surprised you didn’t consider that yourself. You’re the expert on magic. Elron’s personal beliefs are probably beside the point. When he’s speaking as Sabre, it’s the man behind him – our real adversary – who’s talking.’

‘I should have thought of that.’ Sparhawk was angry with himself for having overlooked the obvious – and the equally obvious explanation for Elron’s ability to overtake them. Another God could certainly compress time and distance the same way Aphrael could. ‘Just how widespread is this contempt for the serfs, your Grace?’ he asked Monsel.

‘Unfortunately, it’s almost universal, Prince Sparhawk,’ Monsel sighed. ‘The serfs are uneducated and superstitious, but they’re not nearly as stupid as the nobility would like to believe. The reports I’ve received tell me that Sabre spends almost as much time denouncing the serfs as he does the Tamuls when he’s speaking to the nobility. “Lazy” is about the kindest thing he says about them. He’s managed to half-persuade the gentry that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls in some vast, dark plot with its ultimate goal being the emancipation of the serfs and the redistribution of the land. The nobles are responding predictably. First they were goaded into hating the Tamuls, and then they were led to believe that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls and that their estates and positions are threatened by that alliance. They don’t dare confront the Tamuls directly because of the Atans, so they’re venting their hostility on their own serfs. There have been incidents of unprovoked savagery upon a class of people who will march en masse into heaven at the final judgement. The Church is doing what she can, but there’s only so far we can go in restraining the gentry.’

‘You need some Church Knights, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said in a bleak tone of voice. ‘We’re very good in the field of justice. If you take a nobleman’s knout away from him and apply it to his own back a few times, he tends to see the light very quickly.’

‘I wish that were possible here in Astel, Sir Sparhawk,’ Monsel replied sadly. ‘Unfortunately -’

It was the same chill, and that same annoying flicker at the edge of the eye. Monsel broke off and looked around quickly, trying to see what could not really be seen. ‘What –?’ he started.

‘It’s a visitation, your Grace,’ Emban told him, his voice tense. ‘Don’t dislocate your neck trying to catch a glimpse of it.’ He raised his voice slightly. ‘Awfully good to see you again, old boy,’ he said. ‘We were beginning to think you’d forgotten about us. Was there something you wanted in particular? Or were you just yearning for our company? We’re flattered, of course, but we’re a little busy at the moment. Why don’t you run along and play now? We can chat some other time.’

The chill quite suddenly turned hot, and the flicker darkened.

‘Are you insane, Emban?’ Sparhawk choked.

‘I don’t think so,’ the fat little Patriarch said. ‘Your flickering friend – or friends – are irritating me, that’s all.’

The shadow vanished, and the air around them returned to normal.

‘What was that all about?’ Monsel demanded.

‘The Patriarch of Ucera just insulted a God – several Gods, probably,’ Sparhawk replied through clenched teeth. ‘For a moment there, we all hovered on the brink of obliteration. Please don’t do that again, Emban – at least not without consulting me first.’ He suddenly laughed a bit sheepishly. ‘Now I know exactly how Sephrenia felt on any number of occasions. I’ll have to apologise to her the next time I see her.’

Emban was grinning with delight. ‘I sort of caught them off balance there, didn’t I?’

‘Don’t do it again, your Grace,’ Sparhawk pleaded. ‘I’ve seen what Gods can do to people, and I don’t want to be around if you really insult them.’

‘Our God protects me.’

‘Annias was praying to our God when Azash wrung him out like a wet rag, your Grace. It didn’t do him all that much good, as I recall.’

‘That was really stupid, you know,’ Emban said then.

‘I’m glad you realise that.’

‘Not me, Sparhawk. I’m talking about our adversary. Why did it reveal itself at this particular moment? It should have kept its flamboyant demonstration to itself and just listened. It could have found out what our plans are. Not only that, it revealed itself to Monsel. Until it appeared, he only had our word for the fact of its existence. Now he’s seen it for himself.’

‘Will someone please explain this?’ Monsel burst out.

‘It was the Troll-Gods, your Grace,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as a Troll, so how can they have Gods?’

‘This may take longer than I’d thought,’ Sparhawk muttered half to himself. ‘As a matter of fact, your Grace, there are Trolls.’

‘Have you ever seen one?’ Monsel challenged.

‘Only one, your Grace. His name was Ghwerig. He was dwarfed, so he was only about seven feet tall. He was still very difficult to kill.’

‘You killed him?’ Monsel gasped.

‘He had something I wanted,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Ulath’s seen a lot more of them than I have, your Grace. He can tell you all about them. He even speaks their language. I did for a while myself, but I’ve probably forgotten by now. Anyway, they have a language, which means that they’re semi-human, and that means that they have Gods, doesn’t it?’

Monsel looked helplessly at Emban.

‘Don’t ask me, my friend,’ the fat Patriarch said. ‘That’s a long way out of my theological depth.’

‘For the time being, you’ll have to take my word for it,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘There are Trolls, and they do have Gods – five of them – and they aren’t very nice. That shadow Patriarch Emban just so casually dismissed was them – or something very much like them – and that’s what we’re up against. That’s what’s trying to bring down the empire and the Church – both our churches, probably. I’m sorry I have to put it to you so abruptly, Archimandrite Monsel, but you have to know what you’re dealing with. Otherwise, you’ll be totally defenceless. You don’t have to believe what I just told you, but you’d better behave as if you did, because if you don’t, your Church doesn’t have a chance of surviving.’

The Atans arrived a few days later. A hush fell over the city of Darsas as the citizens scurried for cover. No man is so entirely guiltless in his own soul that the sudden appearance of a few thousand police does not give him a qualm or two. The Atans were superbly conditioned giants. The two thousand warriors of both sexes ran in perfect unison as they entered the city four abreast. They wore short leather kirtles, burnished steel breastplates and black half-boots. Their bare limbs gleamed golden in the morning sun as they ran, and their faces were stern and unbending. Though they were obviously soldiers, there was no uniformity in their weapons. They carried a random collection of swords, short spears and axes, as well as other implements for which Sparhawk had no names. They all had several sheathed daggers strapped tightly to their arms and legs. They wore no helmets, but had slender gold circlets about their heads instead.

‘Lord,’ Kalten breathed to Sparhawk as the two of them stood on the palace battlements to watch the arrival of their escort, ‘I’d really hate to come up against that lot on a battlefield. Just looking at them makes my blood cold.’

‘I believe that’s the idea, Kalten,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Mirtai’s impressive all by herself, but when you see a couple of thousand of them like this, you begin to understand how the Tamuls were able to conquer a continent without any particular difficulty. I’d imagine that whole armies simply capitulated when they saw them coming.’

The Atans entered the square in front of the palace and formed up before the residence of the Tamul Ambassador. A huge man went to Ambassador Fontan’s door, his pace quite clearly indicating that if the door were not opened for him, he would walk right through it.

‘Why don’t we go down?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘I expect that Fontan will be bringing that fellow to call in a few moments. Watch what you say, Kalten. Those people strike me as a singularly humourless group. I’m sure they’d miss the point of almost any joke.’

‘Really,’ Kalten breathed his agreement.

The party accompanying the Queen of Elenia gathered in her Majesty’s private quarters and stood about rather nervously awaiting the arrival of the Tamul Ambassador and his general. Sparhawk watched Mirtai rather closely to see what her reaction might be upon being re-united with her people after so many years. She wore clothing he had not seen her wear before, clothing which closely resembled that worn by her countrymen. In place of the steel breastplate, however, she wore a tight-fitting, sleeveless black leather jerkin, and the band about her brow was of silver rather than gold. Her face was serene, seeming to show neither anticipation nor nervous apprehension. She merely waited.

Then Fontan and Oscagne arrived with the tallest man Sparhawk had ever seen. They introduced him as Atan Engessa. The word ‘Atan’ appeared to be not only the name of the people, but some kind of title as well. Engessa was well over seven feet tall, and the room seemed to shrink as he entered. His age, probably because of his race, was indeterminate. He was lean and muscular, and his expression sternly unyielding. His face showed no evidence that he had ever smiled.

Immediately upon his entrance into the room, he went directly to Mirtai, as if none of the rest of them were even in the room. He touched the fingertips of both hands to his steel-armoured chest and inclined his head to her. ‘Atana Mirtai,’ he greeted her respectfully.

‘Atan Engessa,’ she replied, duplicating his gesture of greeting. Then they spoke to each other at some length in the Tamul tongue.

‘What are they saying?’ Ehlana asked Oscagne, who had crossed to where they all stood.

‘It’s a ritual of greeting, your Majesty,’ Oscagne replied. ‘There are a great many formalities involved when Atans meet. The rituals help to hold down the bloodshed, I believe. At the moment, Engessa’s questioning Mirtai concerning her status as a child – the silver headband, you understand. It’s an indication that she hasn’t yet gone through the Rite of Passage.’ He stopped and listened for a moment as Mirtai spoke. ‘She’s explaining that she’s been separated from humans since childhood and hasn’t had the opportunity to participate in the ritual as yet.’

‘Separated from humans?’ Ehlana objected. ‘What does she think we are?’

‘Atans believe that they are the only humans in the world. I’m not sure exactly what they consider us to be.’ The ambassador blinked. ‘Has she really killed that many people?’ he asked with some surprise.

‘Ten?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘She said thirty-four.’

‘That’s impossible!’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘She’s been a member of my court for the past seven years. I’d have known if she’d killed anyone while she was in my service.’

‘Not if she did it at night, you wouldn’t, my Queen,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘She locks us in our rooms every night. She says that it’s for our own protection, but maybe it’s really so that she can go out looking for entertainment. Maybe we should change the procedure when we get home. Let’s start locking her up for the night instead of the other way around.’

‘She’ll just kick the door down, Sparhawk.’

‘That’s true, I suppose. We could always chain her to the wall at night I guess.’

‘Sparhawk!’ Ehlana exclaimed.

‘We can talk about it later. Here comes Fontan and General Engessa.’

‘Atan Engessa, Sparhawk,’ Oscagne corrected. ‘Engessa wouldn’t even recognise the title of general. He’s a warrior – an “Atan”. That’s all the title he seems to need. If you call him “General”, you’ll insult him, and that’s not a good idea.’

Engessa had a deep, quiet voice, and he spoke the Elenic language haltingly and with an exotic accent. He carefully repeated each of their names when Fontan introduced them, obviously committing them to memory. He accepted Ehlana’s status without question, although the concept of a queen must have been alien to him. He recognised Sparhawk and the other knights as warriors, and respected them as such. The status of Patriarch Emban, Talen, Stragen and Baroness Melidere obviously baffled him. He greeted Kring, however, with the customary Peloi salute. ‘Atana Mirtai advises me that you seek marriage with her,’ he said.

‘That’s right,’ Kring replied a bit pugnaciously. ‘Have you any objections?’

‘That depends. How many have you killed?’

‘More than I can conveniently count.’

‘That could mean two things. Either you have slain many, or you have a poor head for figures.’

‘I can count past two hundred,’ Kring declared.

‘A respectable number. You are Domi among your people?’

‘I am.’

‘Who cut your head?’ Engessa pointed at the scars on Kring’s scalp and face.

‘A friend. We were discussing each others’ qualifications for leadership.’

‘Why did you let him cut you?’

‘I was busy. I had my sabre in his belly at the time, and I was probing around for various things inside him.’

‘Your scars are honourable then. I respect them. Was he a good friend?’

Kring nodded. ‘The best. We were like brothers.’

‘You spared him the inconvenience of growing old.’

‘I did that, all right. He never got a day older.’

‘I take no exception to your suit of Atana Mirtai,’ Engessa told him. ‘She is a child with no family. As the first adult Atan she has met, it is my responsibility to serve as her father. Have you an Oma?’

‘Sparhawk serves as my Oma.’

‘Send him to me, and he and I will discuss the matter. May I call you friend, Domi?’

‘I would be honoured, Atan. May I also call you friend?’

‘I also would be honoured, friend Kring. Hopefully, your Oma and I will be able to arrange the day when you and Atana Mirtai will be branded.’

‘May God speed the day, friend Engessa.’

‘I feel as if I’ve just witnessed something from the dark ages,’ Kalten whispered to Sparhawk. ‘What do you think would have happened if they’d taken a dislike to each other?’

‘It probably would have been messy.’

‘When do you want to leave, Ehlana, Queen of Elenia?’ Engessa asked.

Ehlana looked at her friends questioningly. ‘Tomorrow?’ she suggested.

‘You should not ask, Ehlana-Queen,’ Engessa reprimanded her firmly. ‘Command. If any object, have Sparhawk-Champion kill them.’

‘We’ve been trying to cut back on that, Atan Engessa,’ she said. ‘It’s always so hard on the carpeting.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I knew there was a reason. Tomorrow then?’

‘Tomorrow, Engessa.’

‘I will await you at first light, Ehlana-Queen.’ And he turned on his heel and marched from the room.

‘Abrupt sort of fellow, isn’t he?’ Stragen noted.

‘He doesn’t waste any words,’ Tynian agreed.

‘A word with you, Sparhawk?’ Kring said.

‘Of course.’

‘You will serve as my Oma, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t pledge too many horses.’ Kring frowned. ‘What did he mean when he was talking about branding?’

Sparhawk suddenly remembered. ‘It’s an Atan wedding custom. During the ceremony the happy couple is branded. Each wears the mark of the other.’

‘Branded?’

‘So I understand.’

‘What if a couple doesn’t get along?’

‘I imagine they cross out the brand.’

‘How do you cross out a brand?’

‘Probably with a hot iron. Are you still bent on marriage, Kring?’

‘Find out where the brand goes, Sparhawk. I’ll know better once I have that information.’

‘I gather there are places where you’d rather not be branded?’

‘Oh, yes. There are definitely places, Sparhawk.’

They left Darsas at first light the following morning and rode eastward toward Pela on the steppes of central Astel. The Atans enclosed the column, loping easily to match the speed of the horses. Sparhawk’s concerns about the safety of his queen diminished noticeably. Mirtai had very briefly – even peremptorily – advised her owner that she would travel with her countrymen. She did not precisely ask. A rather peculiar change had come over the golden giantess. That wary tension which had always characterised her seemed to have vanished. ‘I can’t exactly put my finger on it,’ Ehlana confessed about mid-morning when they were discussing it. ‘She just doesn’t seem quite the same.’

‘She isn’t, your Majesty,’ Stragen told her. ‘She’s come home, that’s all. Not only that, the presence of adults allows her to take her natural place in her own society. She’s still a child – in her own eyes at least. She’s never talked about her childhood, but I gather it wasn’t a time filled with happiness and security. Something happened to her parents, and she was sold into slavery.’

‘All of her people are slaves, Milord Stragen,’ Melidere objected.

‘There are different kinds of slavery, Baroness. The slavery of the Atan race by the Tamuls is institutionalised. Mirtai’s is personal. She was taken as a child, enslaved and then forced to take her own steps to protect herself. Now that she’s back among the Atans, she’s able to recapture some sense of her childhood.’ He made a wry face. ‘I never had that opportunity, of course. I was born into a different kind of slavery, and killing my father didn’t really liberate me.’

‘You concern yourself overmuch about that, Milord Stragen,’ Melidere told him. ‘You really shouldn’t make the issue of your unauthorised conception the central fact of your whole existence, you know. There are much more important things in life.’

Stragen looked at her sharply, then laughed, his expression a bit sheepish. ‘Do I really seem so self-pitying to you, Baroness?’

‘No, not really, but you always insist on bringing it up. Don’t worry at it so much, Milord. It doesn’t make any difference to the rest of us, so why brood about it?’

‘You, see, Sparhawk,’ Stragen said. ‘That’s exactly what I meant about this girl. She’s the most dishonest person I’ve ever known.’

‘Milord Stragen!’ Melidere protested.

‘But you are, my dear Baroness,’ Stragen grinned. ‘You don’t lie with your mouth, you lie with your entire person. You pose as someone whose head is filled with air, and then you puncture a façade I’ve spent a lifetime building with one single observation. “Unauthorised conception” indeed. You’ve managed to trivialise the central tragedy of my entire life.’

‘Can you ever forgive me?’ Her eyes were wide and dishonestly innocent.

‘I give up,’ he said, throwing his hands in the air in mock surrender. ’Where was I? Oh yes, Mirtai’s apparent change of personality. I think the Rite of Passage among the Atans is very significant to them, and that’s another reason our beloved little giantess is reverting to the social equivalent of baby-talk. Engessa’s obviously going to put her through the rite when we reach her homeland, so she’s enjoying the last few days of childhood to the hilt.’

‘Can I ride with you, Father?’ Danae asked.

‘If you wish.’

The little princess rose from her seat in the carriage, handed Rollo to Alean and Mmrr to Baroness Melidere and held out her hands to Sparhawk.

He lifted her to her usual seat in front of his saddle.

‘Take me for a ride, Father,’ she coaxed in her most little-girl tone.

‘We’ll be back in a bit,’ Sparhawk told his wife and cantered away from the carriage.

‘Stragen can be so tedious at times,’ Danae said tartly. ‘I’m glad Melidere’s the one who’s going to have to modify him.’

‘What?’ Sparhawk was startled.

‘Where are your eyes, father?’

‘I wasn’t actually looking. Do they really feel that way about each other?’

‘She does. She’ll let him know how he feels when she’s ready. What happened in Darsas?’

Sparhawk wrestled with his conscience a bit at that point. ‘Would you say that you’re a religious personage?’ he asked carefully.

‘That’s a novel way to put it.’

‘Just answer the question, Danae. Are you or are you not affiliated with a religion?’

‘Well, of course I am, Sparhawk. I’m the focus of a religion.’

‘Then in a general sort of way, you could be defined as a clergyman – uh – person?’

‘What are you getting at, Sparhawk?’

‘Just say yes, Danae. I’m tiptoeing around the edges of violating an oath, and I need a technical excuse for it.’

‘I give up. Yes, technically you could call me a church personage – it’s a different church, of course, but the definition still fits.’

‘Thank you. I swore not to reveal this except to another clergyman – personage. You’re a clergyperson, so I can tell you.’

‘That’s sheer sophistry, Sparhawk.’

‘I know, but it gets me off the hook. Baron Kotyk’s brother-in-law, Elron, is Sabre.’ He gave her a suspicious look. ‘Have you been tampering again?’

‘Me?’

‘You’re starting to stretch the potentials of coincidence a bit, Danae,’ he said. ‘You knew what I just told you all along, didn’t you?’

‘Not the details, no. What you call “omniscience” is a human concept. It was dreamed up to make people think that they couldn’t get away with anything. I get hints – little flashes of things, that’s all. I knew there was something significant in Kotyk’s house, and I knew that if you and the others listened carefully, you’d hear about it.’

‘It’s like intuition then?’

‘That’s a very good word for it, Sparhawk. Ours is a little more developed than yours, and we pay close attention to it. You humans tend to ignore it – particularly you men. Something else happened in Darsas, didn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘That shadow put in another appearance. Emban and I were talking with Archimandrite Monsel, and we were visited.’

‘Whoever’s behind this is very stupid, then.’

‘The Troll-Gods? Isn’t that part of the definition of them?’

‘We’re not absolutely certain it’s the Troll-Gods, Sparhawk.’

‘Wouldn’t you know? I mean, isn’t there some way you can identify who’s opposing you?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, Sparhawk. We can conceal ourselves from each other. The stupidity of that appearance in Darsas certainly suggests the Troll-Gods, though. We haven’t been able to make them understand why the sun comes up in the east as yet. They know it’s going to come up every morning, but they’re never sure just exactly where.’

‘You’re exaggerating.’

‘Of course I am.’ She frowned. ‘Let’s not set our feet in stone on the idea that we’re dealing with the Troll-Gods just yet, though. There are some very subtle differences – of course that may be the result of their encounter with you in the Temple of Azash. You frightened them very much, you know. I’d be more inclined to suspect an alliance between them and somebody else. I think the Troll-Gods would be more direct. If there is somebody else involved, he’s just a bit childish. He hasn’t been out in the world. He surrounded himself with people who aren’t bright, and he’s judging all humans by his worshippers. That appearance at Darsas was really a blunder, you know. He didn’t have to do it, and all he really did was to confirm what you’d already told that clergyman – you did tell him what’s happening, didn’t you?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘We really need to get to Sarsos and talk with Sephrenia.’

‘You’re going to speed up the journey again then?’

‘I think I’d better. I’m not entirely sure what the ones on the other side are doing yet, but they’re starting to move faster for some reason, so we’d better see what we can do to keep up. Take me back to the carriage, Sparhawk. Stragen’s probably finished showing off his education by now, and the smell of your armour’s beginning to make me nauseous.’

Although there was a community of interest between the three disparate segments of the force escorting the Queen of Elenia, Sparhawk, Engessa and Kring decided to make some effort to keep the Peloi, the Church Knights and the Atans more or less separate from each other. Cultural differences obviously made a general mingling unwise. The possibilities for misunderstandings were simply too numerous to be ignored. Each leader stressed the need for the strictest of courtesy and formality to his forces, and the end result was a tense and exaggerated stiffness. In a very real sense, the Atans, the Peloi and the knights were allies rather than comrades. The fact that very few of the Atans spoke Elenic added to the distance between the component parts of the small army moving out onto the treeless expanse of the steppes.

They encountered the eastern Peloi some distance from the town of Pela in central Astel. Kring’s ancestors had migrated from this vast grassland some three thousand years earlier, but despite the separation of time and distance, the two branches of the Peloi family were remarkably similar in matters of dress and custom. The only really significant difference seemed to be the marked preference of the eastern Peloi for the javelin as opposed to the sabre favoured by Kring’s people. After a ritual exchange of greetings and a somewhat extended ceremony during which Kring and his eastern cousin sat cross-legged on the turf ‘taking salt together and talking of affairs’ while two armies warily faced each other across three hundred yards of open grass. The decision not to go to war with each other today was apparently reached, and Kring led his new-found friend and kinsman to the carriage to introduce him all around. The Domi of the eastern Peloi was named Tikume. He was somewhat taller than Kring, but his head was also shaved, a custom among those horsemen dating back to antiquity.

Tikume greeted them all politely. ‘It is passing strange to see Peloi allied with foreigners,’ he noted. ‘Domi Kring has told me of the conditions which prevail in Eosia, but I had not fully realised that they had led to such peculiar arrangements. Of course he and I have not spoken together for more than ten years.’

‘You’ve met before, Domi Tikume?’ Patriarch Emban asked with a certain surprise.

‘Yes, your Grace,’ Kring replied. ‘Domi Tikume journeyed to Pelosia with the King of Astel some years back. He made a point of looking me up.’

‘King Alberen’s father was much wiser than his son,’ Tikume explained, ‘and he read a great deal. He saw many similarities between Pelosia and Astel, so he paid a state visit to King Soros. He invited me to go along.’ His expression became one of distaste. ‘I might have declined if I’d known he was going to travel by boat. I was sick every day for two months. Domi Kring and I got on well together. He was kind enough to take me with him to the marshes to hunt ears.’

‘Did he share the profits with you, Domi Tikume?’ Ehlana asked him.

‘What was that, Queen Ehlana?’ Tikume looked baffled.

Kring, however, laughed nervously and flushed just a bit.

Then Mirtai strode up to the carriage.

‘Is this the one?’ Tikume asked Kring.

Kring nodded happily. ‘Isn’t she stupendous?’

‘Magnificent,’ Tikume agreed fervently, his tone almost reverential. Then he dropped to one knee. ‘Doma,’ he greeted her, clasping both hands in front of his face.

Mirtai looked inquiringly at Kring.

‘It’s a Peloi word, beloved,’ he explained. ‘It means “Domi’s mate”.’

‘That hasn’t been decided yet, Kring,’ she pointed out.

‘Can there be any doubt, beloved?’ he replied.

Tikume was still down on one knee. ‘You shall enter our camp with all honours, Doma Mirtai,’ he declared, ‘for among our people, you are a queen. All shall kneel to you, and all shall give way to you. Poems and songs shall be composed in your honour, and rich gifts shall be bestowed upon you.’

‘Well, now,’ Mirtai said.

‘Your beauty is clearly divine, Doma Mirtai,’ Tikume continued, warming to his subject. ‘Your very presence brightens a drab world and puts the sun to shame. I am awed at the wisdom of my brother Kring in having selected you as his mate. Come straightaway to our camp, divine one, so that my people may adore you.’

‘My goodness,’ Ehlana breathed. ‘Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me.’

‘We just didn’t want to embarrass you, my Queen,’ Stragen told her blandly. ‘We feel that way about you of course, but we didn’t want to be too obvious about it.’

‘Well said,’ Ulath approved.

Mirtai looked at Kring with a new interest. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this, Kring?’ she asked him.

‘I thought you knew, beloved.’

‘I didn’t,’ she replied. Her lower lip pushed forward slightly in a thoughtful kind of pout. ‘But I do now,’ she added. ‘Have you chosen an Oma as yet?’

‘Sparhawk serves me in that capacity, beloved.’

‘Why don’t you go have a talk with Atan Engessa, Sparhawk?’ she suggested. ‘Tell him for me that I do not look upon Domi Kring’s suit with disfavour.’

‘That’s a very good idea, Mirtai,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.’