The Shining Ones

  Ghnomb groaned.

  ‘Ghnomb must do this,’ she insisted. ‘If he does not, I will not permit Anakha to free you, and Cyrgon will keep your children. Ghnomb will not agree to this if each of you will not accept equal lessening. Ghworg! You must no longer drive your children to kill mine!’

  Ghworg raised both huge arms and howled.

  ‘Khwaj!’ she continued inexorably. ‘You must curb the fires which rage through the forests of Thalesia each year when the sun returns to the lands of the north.’

  Khwaj stifled a sob.

  ‘Schlee!’ Aphrael barked. ‘You must hold back the rivers of ice which crawl down the sides of the mountains. Let them melt when they reach the valleys.’

  ‘No!’ Schlee wailed.

  ‘Then you have lost all your children. Hold back the ice or you will weep alone in the wastes of the north. Zoka! No more than two offspring can issue from each she-Troll.’

  ‘Never!’ Zoka bellowed. ‘My children must mate!’

  ‘Your children are now Cyrgon’s. Will you aid Cyrgon’s increase?’ She paused, her eyes narrowing. ‘One last agreement will I have from you all, or I will not let Anakha free you.’

  ‘What is your demand, Aphrael?’ Schlee asked in his ice-choked voice.

  ‘Your children are immortal. Mine are not. Your children must also die – each in an appointed time.’

  They exploded in an absolute rage.

  ‘Return them to their prison, Anakha,’ Aphrael said. ‘They will not agree. The bargaining is done.’ She said it in Trollish, so it was obviously intended for the benefit of the raging Troll-Gods.

  ‘Wait!’ Khwaj shouted. ‘Wait!’

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘Let us go apart from you and your children that we may consider this monstrous demand.’

  ‘Do not be long,’ she said to them. ‘I have little patience.’

  The five vast beings withdrew further out into the pasture.

  ‘Weren’t you pushing them a little far?’ Sephrenia suggested. ‘That last demand of yours may very well kill any chance of reaching an agreement.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Aphrael replied. ‘The Troll-Gods can’t think that far into the future. They live for now, and right now the most important thing for them is taking their Trolls back from Cyrgon.’ She sighed. ‘The last demand is the most important, really. Humans and Trolls can’t live in the same world. One or the other has to leave. I’d rather that it was the Trolls, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘You’re very cruel, Aphrael. You’re forcing the Troll-Gods to assist in the extermination of their own worshipers.’

  ‘The Trolls are doomed anyway,’ the Child Goddess sighed. ‘There are just too many humans in the world. If the Trolls suddenly become mortal, they’ll just slip away peacefully. If you humans have to kill them all, half of your number will die with them. I’m just as moral as the rest of the Gods. I love my children, and I don’t want half of them killed and eaten in the mountains of Thalesia in some war to the death with the Trolls.’

  ‘Sparhawk,’ Stragen said, ‘didn’t Khwaj do something that made it possible for you to watch Martel and listen to him talking when we were going across Pelosia toward Zemoch?’

  Sparhawk nodded.

  ‘Can Aphrael do that?’

  ‘I’m right here, Stragen,’ Flute told him. ‘Why don’t you ask me?’

  ‘We haven’t really been properly introduced yet, Divine One,’ he said with a fluid bow. ‘Can you? – reach out and talk with somebody on the other side of the world, I mean?’

  ‘I don’t like to do it that way,’ she replied. ‘I want to be close to someone when I talk to him.’

  ‘My Goddess places great importance on touching, Stragen,’ Sephrenia explained.

  ‘Oh. I see. All right, then, when the Troll-Gods come back – and if they agree to our preposterous demands – I’d like to have Sparhawk – or Ulath – ask Khwaj to do me a favor. I need to talk to Platime back in Cimmura.’

  ‘They do return,’ Xanetia advised.

  They all turned to face the monstrous beings coming back across the autumn-browned pasture.

  ‘You have left us no choice, Aphrael,’ Khwaj said in a broken voice. ‘We must accept your brutal demands. We must save our children from Cyrgon.’

  ‘You will no longer kill and eat my children?’ she pressed.

  ‘We will not.’

  ‘You will no longer burn the forests of Thalesia?’

  Khwaj groaned and nodded.

  ‘You will no longer fill the valleys with glaciers?’

  Schlee sobbed his agreement.

  ‘You will no longer breed your Trolls like rabbits?’

  Zoka wailed.

  ‘Your children will grow old and die as do all other creatures?’

  Khwaj buried his face in his hands. ‘Yes,’ he wept.

  ‘Then we will join with you and do war upon Cyrgon. You will return to Bhelliom’s heart for now. Anakha will carry you to the place where your children languish in thrall to Cyrgon. There will he release you and there will you wrest your children from Cyrgon’s vile grasp. And there will we join together to cause hurt to Cyrgon. We will make his pain like the pain of Azash.’

  ‘YES!’ the Troll-Gods howled their agreement in unison.

  ‘Done, then!’ Aphrael declared in a ringing voice. ‘One boon more, Khwaj – in demonstration of our newly formed alliance. This child of mine would speak with one known as Platime in Cimmura in far-off Elenia. Make it so that he can.’

  ‘I will, Aphrael.’ Khwaj held out his vast hand, and a sheet of unwavering fire dripped from his fingertips.

  Behind the fire there lay a bedchamber with a vast, snoring bulk sprawled on an oversized bed.

  ‘Wake up, Platime,’ Stragen said crisply.

  ‘Fire!’ Platime shrieked, struggling into a sitting position.

  ‘Oh, be quiet!’ Stragen snapped. ‘There isn’t any fire. This is magic.’

  ‘Stragen? Is that you? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m behind the fire. You probably can’t see me.’

  ‘Are you learning magic now?’

  ‘Just dabbling,’ Stragen lied modestly. ‘Now listen carefully. I don’t know how long the spell will last. I want you to get in touch with Arnag in Khadach. Ask him to kill Count Gerrich. I don’t have time to explain. It’s important, Platime. It’s part of something we’re doing here in Tamuli.’

  ‘Gerrich?’ Platime said doubtfully. ‘That’s going to be expensive, Stragen.’

  ‘Get the money from Lenda. Tell him that Ehlana authorized it.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Well – she would if she knew about it. I’ll get her approval next time I talk with her. Now, listen carefully, because this is the most important part. Gerrich has to be killed exactly fifteen days from now – not fourteen, not sixteen. The time’s very important.’

  ‘All right, I’ll see to it. Tell Ehlana that Gerrich will die in exactly fifteen days. Was there anything else? That magic fire of yours is making me very nervous.’

  ‘See if you can identify anybody else Gerrich has been dealing with and kill them as well – those Pelosian barons who’ve allied themselves with him certainly, and any people in the other kingdoms who are in this with him. You know the kind I mean – the ones like the Earl of Belton.’

  ‘You want them all killed at that same time?’

  ‘As close as you can. Gerrich is the really important one, though.’ Stragen pursed his lips. ‘While you’re at it, you’d probably better kill Avin Wargunsson as well – just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘He’s as good as dead, Stragen.’

  ‘You’re a good friend, Platime.’

  ‘Friend, my foot. You’ll pay the usual fees, Stragen.’

  Stragen sighed. ‘All right,’ he said mournfully.

  ‘How deeply are you attached to your Elene God, Stragen?’ Aphrael asked as they rode back to Matherion.

  ‘I’m an agnostic, Divi
ne One.’

  ‘Would you like to examine that last sentence for logical consistency, Stragen?’ Vanion asked with an amused expression.

  ‘Consistency’s the mark of a little mind, my Lord,’ Stragen replied loftily. ‘Why do you ask, Aphrael?’

  ‘You don’t really belong to any God, then, do you?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  Sephrenia started to say something, but Aphrael raised one little hand to cut her off. ‘You might want to look into the advantages of coming to serve me,’ the Child Goddess suggested. ‘I can do all sorts of wonderful things for you.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to do this, Aphrael!’ Sephrenia protested.

  ‘Hush, Sephrenia. This is between Stragen and me. I think that maybe it’s time for me to broaden my horizons. Styrics are very, very nice, but sometimes Elenes are more fun. Besides, Stragen and I are both thieves. We’ve got a lot in common.’ She grinned at the blond man. ‘Think it over, Milord. I’m not at all difficult to serve. A few kisses and a bouquet of flowers now and then and I’m perfectly happy.’

  ‘She’s lying to you,’ Sparhawk warned. ‘Enlisting in the service of Aphrael is volunteering for the profoundest slavery you could possibly imagine.’

  ‘Well…’ the Child Goddess said deprecatingly, ‘I suppose it is, when you get right down to it – but as long as we’re all having fun, what difference does it make?’

  Chapter 26

  It was quite early, several hours before dawn, Sparhawk judged, when Mirtai entered the royal bedroom – as usual without knocking. ‘You’d better get up,’ the golden giantess announced. Mirtai could be very blunt when the occasion demanded it.

  Sparhawk sat up. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a fleet of boats coming toward the city,’ she replied. ‘Either that, or the Delphae have learned how to walk on water. There are enough lanterns on the eastern horizon to light up a small city. Put your clothes on, Sparhawk. I’ll go wake the others.’ She turned abruptly and left the room.

  ‘I wish she’d learn to knock,’ Sparhawk muttered, throwing off the covers.

  ‘You’re the one who’s supposed to make sure that the doors are locked,’ Ehlana reminded him. ‘Do you think it might be trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know. Did Sarabian say anything about expecting a fleet?’

  ‘He didn’t mention it to me,’ she replied, also rising from their bed.

  ‘I’d better go have a look.’ He picked up his cloak. ‘There’s no need for you to go outside, dear,’ he told her. ‘It’s chilly up on the parapet.’

  ‘No. I want to see for myself.’

  They went out of the bedroom. Princess Danae came out of her room in her nightdress, rubbing her eyes with one hand and dragging Rollo behind her. Mutely she went to Sparhawk, and he picked her up without even thinking.

  The three of them went into the hallway and up the stairs toward the top of the tower.

  Kalten and Sarabian were standing on the east side of the tower looking out across the battlements at the lights strung out along the eastern horizon.

  ‘Any idea of who they might be?’ Sparhawk asked as he and his family joined them.

  ‘Not a clue,’ Kalten replied.

  ‘Could it be the Tamul navy?’ Ehlana asked the Emperor.

  ‘It could be, I suppose,’ he replied, ‘but if it is, they’re not responding to any orders I sent out.’

  Sparhawk stepped back a few paces. ‘Who do the ships belong to?’ he murmured to his daughter.

  ‘I ain’t a-tellin’, dorlin’,’ she replied with a little smirk.

  ‘Stop that. I want to know who’s coming.’

  ‘You’ll find out…’ She squinted out toward the lights on the horizons. ‘In a couple of hours, I’d imagine.’

  ‘I want to know who they are,’ he insisted.

  ‘Yes, I can see that, but wanting isn’t getting, father, and I ain’t a-gonna tell ya.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned.

  ‘Yes?’ she responded innocently. ‘Was there something?’

  The dawn came up rusty that morning. There was no hint of a breeze, and the smoke from the chimneys of fire-domed Matherion hung motionless in the air, blurring the light from the east. Sparhawk and the other knights roused the Atan garrison, put on their armor, and rode down to the harbor.

  The approaching ships were clearly of Cammorian construction, but they had been altered. Banks of oars had been added along their sides.

  ‘Somebody was in a hurry to get here,’ Ulath noted. ‘A Cammorian ship with a good following wind can make thirty leagues a day. If you added oars to that, you could increase it to fifty.’

  ‘How many ships are there?’ Kalten asked, squinting at the approaching fleet.

  ‘I make it close to a hundred,’ the big Thalesian replied.

  ‘You could carry a lot of men on a hundred ships,’ Sarabian said.

  ‘Enough to make me nervous, your Majesty,’ Vanion agreed.

  Then, as the ships entered the harbor, the red and gold standards of the Church were run up on the masts, and as the lead vessel came closer, Sparhawk could make out two familiar figures standing in the bow. The one man had broad shoulders and a massive chest. His round face was split with a delighted grin. The other was short and very stout. He was also grinning.

  ‘What kept you?’ Ulath shouted across the intervening water.

  ‘Class distinctions,’ Tynian shouted back. ‘Knights are defined as gentlemen, and they objected to being pressed into service as oarsmen.’

  ‘You’ve got knights manning the oars?’ Vanion called incredulously.

  ‘It’s a part of a new physical conditioning program, Lord Vanion,’ Patriarch Emban shouted. ‘Archprelate Dolmant noticed that the Soldiers of God were getting a little flabby. They’re much more fit now than they were when we left Sarinium.’

  The ship approached the wharf carefully, and the seamen threw the mooring hawsers to the knights ashore.

  Tynian leaped across. Emban gave him a disgusted look and waddled back amidships to wait for the sailors to extend the gangway.

  ‘How’s the shoulder?’ Ulath asked the broad-faced Deiran.

  ‘Much better,’ Tynian replied. ‘It aches when the weather’s damp, though.’ He saluted Vanion. ‘Komier, Darellon and Abriel are leading the Church Knights east from Chyrellos, my Lord,’ he reported. ‘Patriarch Bergsten’s with them. Patriarch Emban and I came on ahead by ship – obviously. We thought a few more knights here in Matherion might be useful.’

  ‘Indeed they will, Sir Tynian. How many do you have with you?’

  ‘Five thousand, my Lord.’

  ‘That’s impossible, Tynian. There’s no way you could crowd that many men and horses on a hundred ships.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Tynian replied mildly, ‘we noticed that ourselves almost immediately. The knights were terribly disappointed when they found out that we weren’t going to let them bring their horses with them.’

  ‘Tynian,’ Kalten objected, ‘they have to have horses. A knight without his horse is meaningless.’

  ‘There are already horses here, Kalten. Why bring more?’

  ‘Tamul horses aren’t trained.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to train them, won’t we? I had a hundred ships. I could have brought fifteen hundred knights along with their horses, or five thousand without the horses. Call the extra thirty-five hundred a gift.’

  ‘How were you able to make them row?’ Ulath asked.

  ‘We used whips.’ Tynian shrugged. ‘There’s a Captain Sorgi who plies the inner sea, and the oars were his idea.’

  ‘Good old Sorgi,’ Sparhawk laughed.

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘Quite well, actually.’

  ‘You’ll be able to renew your friendship. His ship’s out there with the fleet. We’d have sailed aboard his ship, but Patriarch Emban didn’t like the looks of it. It’s all patched and rickety.’

  ‘It’s old. I t
hink Sorgi has a secret bet with himself about which of them falls apart first – him or his ship.’

  ‘His mind’s still sharp, though. When we asked him how to get more speed out of the ships, he suggested adding oars to the sails. It’s very seldom done that way because of the expense of paying the oarsmen – not to mention the fact that they take up room usually reserved for cargo. I decided not to bring any cargo, and Church Knights are sworn to poverty, so I didn’t have to pay them. It worked out fairly well, actually.’

  They gathered in Ehlana’s sitting room several hours later to hear Emban and Tynian report on what was happening in Eosia.

  ‘Ortzel quite nearly had apoplexy when Dolmant pulled all the knights out of Rendor,’ Emban told them. He leaned back in his chair with a silver tankard in his pudgy hand. ‘Ortzel really has his heart set on returning the Rendors to the bosom of our Holy Mother. Dolmant seemed inclined to agree with him right at first, but he woke up one morning with a completely different outlook. Nobody’s been able to explain his sudden change of heart.’

  ‘He received a message, Emban,’ Sephrenia smiled. ‘The messenger can be very impressive when he wants to be.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘An emergency came up, your Grace,’ Vanion explained. ‘Zalasta had sent word to his confederates in Eosia, and they began killing the worshipers of the Child Goddess, Aphrael. That put her life in danger as well. We spoke with one of the other Younger Gods – Setras. He agreed that the other Younger Gods would lend Aphrael some of their children, and he went to Chyrellos to ask Dolmant to offer sanctuary to Aphrael’s surviving worshipers. He was also going to try to persuade Dolmant to send the Church Knights here. Evidently he was a bit more convincing than you and Tynian were.’

  ‘Are you saying that a Styric God went into the Basilica?’ Emban exclaimed.

  ‘He said that’s what he was going to do,’ Sparhawk replied, shifting his daughter in his lap.

  ‘No Styric God has ever gone into the Basilica!’

  ‘He’s wrong,’ Princess Danae whispered into her father’s ear. ‘I’ve been there dozens of times.’

  ‘I know,’ Sparhawk whispered back. ‘Setras paid a formal visit, though.’ He thought of something. ‘Setras went to Chyrellos just a short time ago,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Even with oarsmen to help, Tynian’s fleet couldn’t have reached Matherion this fast. Have you been tampering again?’