‘It’s only a suggestion, your Majesty,’ Ulath shrugged. ‘Pretend to be deaf and have some people around to wiggle their fingers at you as if they were translating.’
She stared at him. ‘That’s absurd, Ulath. Do you have any idea of how awkward and inconvenient that would be?’
‘I just said it was a suggestion, your Majesty,’ he said mildly. ‘I didn’t say it was a good one.’
Following a formal farewell which was once again primarily for Mirtai’s benefit, the queen and her party rode eastward out of Atana along the Lebas road. Once they were clear of the city, Oscagne, who had insisted on riding a horse that day, suggested to Sparhawk, Stragen and Vanion that they ride forward to confer with the other knights. They found them near the head of the column. Tynian was entertaining them with a muchembellished account of a probably imaginary amorous adventure.
‘What’s afoot?’ Kalten asked when Sparhawk and the others joined them.
‘Sparhawk and I conferred with Sephrenia and Zalasta last night,’ Vanion replied. ‘We thought we might share the fruits of our discussions – out of Ehlana’s hearing.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ the blond Pandion observed.
‘Not entirely,’ Vanion smiled. ‘Our conclusions are still a bit tenuous, and there’s no point in alarming the queen until we’re a bit more certain.’
‘Then there is something to be alarmed about, isn’t there, Lord Vanion?’ Talen asked.
‘There’s always something to be alarmed about,’ Khalad told his brother.
‘We’ve sort of concluded that we’re facing a God,’ Vanion told them. ‘I’m sure you’ve all more or less worked that out for yourselves.’
‘Did you really have to invite me to come along this time, Sparhawk?’ Kalten complained. ‘I’m not very good at dealing with Gods.’
‘Who is?’
‘You weren’t so bad at Zemoch.’
‘Luck, probably.’
‘This is the way our reasoning went,’ Vanion continued. ‘You’ve been seeing that shadow again, and the cloud. On the surface at least, they seem to be divine manifestations, and these armies out of the past – the Lamorks and the Cyrgai – couldn’t have been raised by a mortal. Zalasta told us that he’d tried it once and that it all fell apart on him. If he can’t do it, we can be fairly sure that nobody else can either.’
‘Logical,’ Bevier approved.
‘Thank you. Now then, the Trolls all left Thalesia a while back, and they’ve started to show up here in Atan. We more or less agreed that they wouldn’t have done that unless they’d been commanded to by someone they’d obey. Couple that fact with the shadow, and it seems to point at the Troll-Gods. Sephrenia’s not positive that they’re permanently locked inside Bhelliom, so we more or less have to accept the fact that they’ve somehow managed to escape.’
‘This isn’t going to be one of the good stories, I gather,’ Talen said glumly.
‘It is a bit gloomy, isn’t it?’ Tynian agreed.
Vanion raised one hand. ‘It gets worse,’ he told them. ‘We sort of agreed that all of this plotting involving ancient heroes, rabid nationalism and the like is somewhat beyond the capability of the Troll-Gods. It’s not likely that they’d have a very sophisticated concept of politics, so I think we’ll have to consider the possibility of an alliance of some kind. Someone – either human or immortal – is taking care of the politics, and the Troll-Gods are providing the muscle. They command the Trolls, and they can raise these figures from the grave.’
‘They’re being used?’ Ulath suggested.
‘So it would seem.’
‘It doesn’t wash, Lord Vanion,’ the Thalesian said bluntly.
‘How so?’
‘What’s in it for the Trolls? Why would the Troll-Gods ally themselves with somebody else if there weren’t any benefits to the Trolls to come out of the arrangement? The Trolls can’t rule the world, because they can’t come down out of the mountains.’
‘Why not?’ Berit asked him.
‘Their fur – and those thick hides of theirs. They have to stay where it’s cool. If you put a Troll out in the summer sun for two days, he’ll die. Their bodies are built to keep the heat in, not to get rid of it.’
‘That is a fairly serious flaw in your theory, Lord Vanion,’ Oscagne agreed.
‘I think I might be able to suggest a solution,’ Stragen told them. ‘Our enemy – or enemies – want to re-arrange the world, right?’
‘Well, at least the top part of it,’ Tynian amended. ‘Nobody I know of has ever suggested turning it all the way upside down and putting the peasantry in charge.’
‘Maybe that comes later,’ Stragen smiled. ‘Our nameless friend out there wants to change the world, but he doesn’t have quite enough power to pull it off by himself. He needs the power of the Troll-Gods to make it work, but what could he offer the Trolls in exchange for their help? What do the Trolls really want?’
‘Thalesia,’ Ulath replied moodily.
‘Precisely. Wouldn’t the Troll-Gods leap at an opportunity to wipe out the Elenes and Styrics in Thalesia and return total possession of the peninsula to the Trolls? If someone’s come up with a way to expel the Younger Styric Gods – or at least claims he has – wouldn’t that be fairly enticing to the Troll-Gods? It was the Younger Gods who dispossessed them in the first place, and that’s why they had to go hide. This is pure speculation, of course, but let’s say this friend of ours came up with a way to free the Troll-Gods. Then he offered an alliance, promising to drive the Elenes and Styrics out of Thalesia – and possibly the north coasts of both continents as well – in exchange for the help he needs. The Trolls get the north, and our friend gets the rest of the world. If I were a Troll, that would sound like a very attractive bargain, wouldn’t you say?’
‘He may have hit on it,’ Ulath conceded.
‘His solution certainly answers my objection to the idea,’ Bevier concurred. ‘It may not be the precise arrangement between our friend and the Troll-Gods, but it’s a clear hint that something could have been worked out. What’s our course, then?’
‘We have to break up the alliance,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘That’s a neat trick when you don’t know who one of the allies is,’ Kalten told him.
‘We do sort of know about one part of it, so we’ll have to concentrate on that. Your theory narrows my options, Vanion. I guess I will have to declare war on the Trolls after all.’
‘I don’t quite understand,’ Oscagne confessed.
‘The Gods derive their strength from their worshippers, your Excellency,’ Bevier explained. ‘The more worshippers, the stronger the God. If Sparhawk starts killing Trolls, the Troll-Gods will notice it. If he kills enough of them, they’ll withdraw from the alliance. They won’t have any choice if they want to survive, and we found out at Zemoch that they’re very interested in surviving, they went all to pieces when Sparhawk threatened to destroy Bhelliom and them along with it.’
‘They became very co-operative at that point,’ Sparhawk said.
‘You gentlemen have a real treat in store for you,’ Ulath told them. ‘Fighting Trolls is very, very exhilarating.’
They set up their night’s encampment that evening in a meadow beside a turbulent mountain stream that had carved a deep gorge in the mountains. The lower walls of the gorge were tree-covered, and they angled up steeply to the sheer cliffs rising a hundred or more feet to the rim of the cut. It was a good defensive position, Sparhawk noted as he surveyed the camp. Evening came early in these canyons, and the cooking fires flared yellow in the gathering dusk, their smoke drifting blue and tenuous downstream in the night breeze.
‘A word with you, Prince Sparhawk?’ It was Zalasta, and his white Styric robe gleamed in the half-light.
‘Of course, learned one.’
‘I’m afraid your wife doesn’t like me,’ the magician observed. ‘She tries to be polite, but her distaste is fairly obvious. Have I offended her in some way?’
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‘I don’t think so, Zalasta.’
A faintly bitter smile touched the Styric’s lips. ‘It’s what my people call “the Elene complaint”, then.’
‘I rather doubt that. I more or less raised her, and I made her understand that the common Elene prejudice was without foundation. Her attitude sort of derives from mine, and the Church Knights are actually quite fond of Styrics – the Pandions particularly so, since Sephrenia was our tutor. We love her very much.’
‘Yes. I’ve observed that.’ The magician smiled. ‘We ourselves are not without our failings in that area. Our prejudice against Elenes is quite nearly as irrational as yours against us. Your wife’s disapproval of me must come from something else, then.’
‘It may be something as simple as your accent, learned one. My wife’s a complex person. She’s very intelligent, but she does have her irrational moments.’
‘It might be best if I avoided her, then. I’ll travel on horseback from now on. Our close proximity in that carriage exacerbates her dislike, I expect. I’ve worked with people who’ve disliked me in the past and it’s no great inconvenience. When I have leisure, I’ll win her over.’ He flashed a quick smile. ‘I can be very winning when I set my mind to it.’ He looked on down the gorge where the rapids swirled and foamed white in the gathering darkness. ‘Is there any possibility that you might be able to retrieve the Bhelliom, Prince Sparhawk?’ he asked gravely. ‘I’m afraid we’re at a distinct disadvantage without it. We need something powerful enough to achieve some measure of parity with a group of Gods. Are you at liberty to tell me where you were when you threw it into the sea? I might be able to aid you in its retrieval.’
‘There weren’t any restrictions placed on me about discussing it, learned one,’ Sparhawk replied ruefully. ‘There wasn’t any need for that, since I haven’t got the foggiest idea of where it was. Aphrael chose the spot, and she very carefully arranged things so that we couldn’t identify the place. You might ask her, but I’m fairly sure she won’t tell you.’
Zalasta smiled. ‘She is a bit whimsical, isn’t she?’ he said. ‘We all loved her in spite of that, however.’
‘That’s right, you grew up in the same village with her and Sephrenia, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. I am proud to call them my friends. It was very stimulating trying to keep up with Aphrael. She had a very agile mind. Did she give you any reason for her desire to keep the location a secret?’
‘Not in so many words, but I think she felt that the jewel was far too dangerous to be loosed in the world. It’s even more eternal than the Gods themselves, and probably more powerful. I can’t pretend to even begin to understand where it originated, but it seems to be one of those elemental spirits that are involved in the creation of the universe.’ Sparhawk smiled. ‘That gave me quite a turn when I found out about it. I was carrying something that could create whole suns not six inches from my heart. I think I can understand Aphrael’s concern about the Bhelliom, though. She told us once that the Gods can only see the future imperfectly, and she couldn’t really see what might happen if the Bhelliom fell into the wrong hands. She and I took a very real chance of destroying the world to keep it out of the hands of Azash. She wanted to put it where nobody could ever use it again.’
‘Her thinking is faulty, Prince Sparhawk.’
‘I wouldn’t tell her that, if I were you. She might take it as criticism.’
Zalasta smiled. ‘She knows me, so she’s not upset when I criticise her. If, as you say, the Bhelliom’s one of those energies that’s involved in the constructing of the universe, it must be allowed to continue its work. The universe will be flawed if it is not.’
‘She said that this world won’t last forever,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘In time, it’ll be destroyed, and Bhelliom will be freed. The mind sort of shudders away from the notion, but I gather that the space of time stretching from the moment Bhelliom was trapped on this world until the moment the world burns away when our sun explodes is no more than the blinking of an eye to the spirit which inhabits it.’
‘I sort of choke on the notions of eternity and infinity myself, Prince Sparhawk,’ Zalasta admitted.
‘I think we’ll have to accept the notion that Bhelliom’s lost for good, learned one,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘We’re at a disadvantage, certainly, but I don’t see any help for it. We’re going to have to deal with this situation ourselves, I’m afraid.’
Zalasta sighed. ‘You may be right, Prince Sparhawk, but we really need the Bhelliom. Our success or failure may hinge on that stone. I think we should concentrate our efforts on Sephrenia. We must persuade her to intercede with Aphrael. She has an enormous influence on her sister.’
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘I’ve noticed that. What were they like as children?’
Zalasta looked up into the gathering darkness. ‘Our village changed a great deal when Aphrael was born,’ he reminisced. ‘We knew at once that she was no ordinary child. The Younger Gods are all very fond of her. Of all of them, she is the only child, and they’ve spoiled her outrageously over the aeons.’ He smiled faintly. ‘She’s perfected the art of being a child. All children are lovable, but Aphrael is so skilled at making people love her that she can melt the hardest of hearts. The Gods always get what they want, but Aphrael makes us do what she wants out of love.’
‘I’ve noticed that,’ Sparhawk said wryly.
‘Sephrenia was about nine when her sister was born, and from the moment she first saw the Child-Goddess, she committed her entire life to her service.’ There was a strange note of pain in the magician’s voice as he said it. ‘Aphrael seemed to have almost no infancy,’ he continued. ‘She was born with the ability to speak – or so it seemed – and she was walking in an incredibly short period of time. It was not convenient for her to go through a normal babyhood, so she simply stepped over such things as teething and learning to crawl. She wanted to be a child, not a baby. I was several years older than Sephrenia and already deep into my studies, but I did observe them rather closely. It’s not often that one has the opportunity to watch a God grow up.’
‘Very rare,’ Sparhawk agreed.
Zalasta smiled. ‘Sephrenia spent every moment with her sister. It was obvious from the very beginning that there was a special bond between them. It’s one of Aphrael’s peculiarities that she adopts the subservient position of a young child. She’s a Goddess, and she could command, but she doesn’t. She almost seems to enjoy being scolded. She’s obedient – when it suits her to be – but every so often she’ll do something outrageously impossible – probably just to remind people who she really is.’
Sparhawk remembered the swarm of fairies pollinating the flowers in the palace garden in Cimmura.
‘Sephrenia was a sensible child who always acted older than her years. I suspect Aphrael of preparing her sister for a lifelong task even before she herself was born. In a very real sense, Sephrenia became Aphrael’s mother. She cared for her, fed her, bathed her – although that occasioned some truly stupendous arguments. Aphrael absolutely hates to be bathed – and she really doesn’t need it, since she can make dirt go away whenever she wants to. I don’t know if you noticed it, but her feet always have grass-stains on them, even when she’s in a place where there is no grass. For some reason I can’t begin to fathom, she seems to need those stains.’ The Styric sighed. ‘When Aphrael was about six or so, Sephrenia was obliged to become her mother in fact. The three of us were off in the forest, and while we were gone, a mob of drunken Elene peasants attacked our village and killed everyone there.’
Sparhawk drew in his breath sharply. ‘That explains a few things,’ he said. ‘Of course it raises other things even more incomprehensible. After a tragedy like that, what could ever have persuaded Sephrenia to take on the chore of training generations of Pandion Knights?’
‘Aphrael probably told her to,’ Zalasta shrugged. ‘Don’t make any mistakes, Prince Sparhawk. Aphrael may pretend to be a child, but in truth she is not
. She will obey when it suits her, but never forget that she is the one who makes the ultimate decisions, and she always gets what she wants.’
‘What happened after your village was destroyed?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘We wandered for a time in the forest, and then another Styric village took us in. As soon as I was sure that the girls were settled in and safe, I left to pursue my studies. I didn’t see them again for many years, and when I finally met them again, Sephrenia was the beautiful woman she is now. Aphrael, however, was still a child, not a day older than she had been when I left them.’ He sighed again. ‘The time we spent together when we were children was the happiest of my life. The memory of that time strengthens and sustains me when I am troubled.’
He looked up toward the sky where the first stars were beginning to come out. ‘Please make my excuses, Prince Sparhawk. I think I’d like to be alone with my memories tonight.’
‘I will, Zalasta,’ Sparhawk replied, laying a friendly hand on the Styric’s shoulder.
‘We’re fond of him,’ Danae said.
‘Why are you keeping your identity a secret from him then?’
‘I’m not sure, father. Maybe it’s just because girls need secrets.’
‘That doesn’t make sense, you know.’
‘Yes, but I don’t have to make sense. That’s the nice thing about being universally adored.’
‘Zalasta thinks we’re going to need the Bhelliom.’ Sparhawk decided to get right to the point.
‘No.’ Aphrael said it very firmly. ‘I spent too much time and effort getting it into a safe place to turn around and drag it out every time there’s a change in the weather. Zalasta always wants to unleash more power than is really necessary in situations like this. If all we’re facing is the Troll-Gods, we can manage without Bhelliom.’ She held up one hand when he started to object. ‘My decision, Sparhawk,’ she told him.
‘I could always spank you and make you change your mind,’ he threatened.
‘Not unless I let you, you can’t.’ Then she sighed. ‘The Troll-Gods aren’t going to be a problem for much longer.’