The Hidden City

  ‘Can’t we go any faster?’ Vanion demanded.

  Sparhawk’s friend had been in an agony of impatience ever since he had learned of the attack on Sephrenia, and Sparhawk had at times feared that he might have to physically restrain him. ‘Fast or slow doesn’t matter, Vanion,’ he said. ‘We can run or crawl, and we’ll still get there at just about the same time.’

  ‘How can you be so calm?’

  ‘You get numb after awhile,’ Sparhawk laughed wryly.

  It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when they crested the top of that long hill and looked down at the town of Dirgis – where the sun was shining brightly.

  ‘That’s incredible!’ Itagne exclaimed. Then he turned to look back down the trail they had just climbed, and his eyes suddenly went very wide.

  ‘I asked you not to do that, Itagne,’ Aphrael reminded him.

  ‘It’s still snowing there,’ he choked, ‘but –’ He stared at the sun-drenched snow-field just ahead again.

  ‘Why do people always want to stop right there?’ the little girl said irritably. ‘Just move along, Itagne. Once you’ve passed the crossover between the two places, it won’t bother you any more.’

  Itagne resolutely set his face forward and rode on into the bright sunlight. ‘Did you understand that, Sparhawk?’ he asked in a strained voice.

  ‘Sort of. Do you really want to hear about what happens to you when you step through the place where two hundred miles have just been abolished?’

  Itagne shuddered.

  They rode on down the hill and entered the city.

  ‘How much further?’ Vanion demanded.

  ‘Just a little ways,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s not all that big a town.’

  They rode through the narrow streets where the snow lay thickly piled against the sides of the buildings. They reached the inn, rode into the courtyard just behind it, and dismounted.

  ‘Everything’s been fixed now, Betuana,’ Aphrael was assuring the Atan Queen. ‘I’m keeping him in a deep sleep so that everything has a chance to knit back together again.’

  ‘Who’s watching over him? Perhaps I should go there.’

  ‘No, Betuana,’ Aphrael said firmly. ‘I don’t have permission to take you there – yet.’

  ‘But he’s alone.’

  ‘Of course he’s not alone. I’m right there beside him.’

  ‘But –’ Betuana stared at the little girl.

  ‘Try not to think about it.’ The Child Goddess pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Engessa-Atan’s a deceptive man, you know – probably because he’s so quiet. I didn’t realize how remarkable he really is until I got into his mind.’

  ‘I have always known,’ Betuana said. ‘How long will it be necessary to keep him away from me – us?’

  Aphrael let the Queen’s slip pass without comment. ‘A few weeks. I want to be sure that everything’s healed. Let’s go on inside before Vanion has apoplexy.’

  Sparhawk led them into the inn, where the innkeeper seemed to be so engrossed in wiping off a table that he was totally oblivious to anything else. They went up the stairs, and Sparhawk was startled to see Mirtai standing guard at Sephrenia’s door. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked her. I thought you were back in Matherion.’

  ‘I’ve been lent out,’ she replied, ‘like an old cloak.’

  ‘You know that’s not true, Mirtai,’ Aphrael said. ‘Danae’s perfectly safe where she is, but I needed someone I could count on to guard Sephrenia. Let’s go inside.’

  Sephrenia was sitting up in bed when they entered, and Xanetia was hovering protectively over her. The room was flooded with sunlight.

  Vanion went directly to the woman he loved, knelt at her bedside, and gently put his arms around her. ‘I’m never going to let you out of my sight again,’ he told her in a thick voice.

  Sephrenia took his face between her hands and kissed him.

  ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

  ‘Hush Vanion,’ she told him, embracing his head and holding his face fiercely against her body.

  Aphrael’s huge eyes were luminous with tears. Then she seemed to shake off her sudden emotion. ‘Let’s get started,’ she said crisply. ‘A great deal has happened since the last time we were all together like this.’

  ‘And all of it bad,’ Itagne added in a gloomy voice.

  ‘Not entirely,’ she said. ‘The worst of it is that Klæl ambushed the Church Knights in the mountains of Zemoch. He had those strange soldiers with him, and our friends lost almost half their number in killed and wounded.’

  ‘Good God!’ Itagne groaned.

  Since Sparhawk already knew the details of recent events, he decided to clear up the mystery of Klæl’s soldiers once and for all. He touched his fingertips to the bulge under his tunic. ‘Blue Rose,’ he said in the silence of his mind.

  ‘I hear thee, Anakha.’

  ‘Our friends have encountered Klæl again. He hath brought warriors here from some other place.’

  ‘It was not unexpected. Klæl is unsuited to direct engagement with humans by reason of his size.’

  ‘We are like mice in his eyes?’ Sparhawk surmised.

  ‘Thou dost wrong thyself, Anakha.’

  ‘Perhaps. These soldiers are not of this world, methinks. Their blood is yellow and their faces are much like Klæl’s face.’

  ‘Ah,’ the voice said. ‘Thou wilt recall that I once told thee that it is customary for Klæl and me to contest with each other for possession of the various worlds I have caused to be?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It pains me to admit this, Anakha, but I have not always prevailed in these contests. Klæl hath wrested some of my worlds from me. It is from one of those worlds – Arcera would be my surmise – that he hath brought these creatures which thou and thy companions have met.’

  ‘They are fearsome, Blue Rose, but not invincible. We have noted some evidence of distress in them during prolonged sojourns here.’

  ‘I would be surprised hadst thou not. The air of Arcera would sear thy lungs shouldst thou take but one breath of it. The air of this world is so sweet and wholesome that it may be most simply assimilated by thy kind and other creatures here. The creatures of Arcera are not so fortunate. Their means of assimilating the noxious miasmas of their home are far more complex than thy simple means of suspiration. Moreover, that which would be lethal to thee hath become necessary for them. I am certain that they find thine air thin and unsatisfying by comparison.’

  ‘And deadly?’ Sparhawk pressed.

  ‘In time, most certainly.’

  ‘Wouldst thou venture a surmise as to how much time it might take our air to kill them?’

  ‘Thou art savage, Anakha.’

  ‘I am outnumbered, Blue Rose. The warriors of Klæl put our cause in direst peril. We must know how long they can survive here.’

  ‘That will vary from warrior to warrior. No more than a day, certainly, and exertion will hasten the process.’

  ‘I thank thee, Blue Rose. My companions and I will devise tactics to use this information to best advantage.’

  ‘Pay attention, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him.

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I was conferring with our friend.’ He patted the bulge at his front. He looked at Vanion. ‘I picked up some more information about the weakness of Klæl’s soldiers,’ he said. ‘You and I need to work out some tactics.’

  Vanion nodded.

  ‘Are you sure Berit and Khalad are all right?’ Sephrenia asked the little girl.

  Aphrael nodded. ‘Zalasta doesn’t want us to know that he’s found out that we were deceiving him. He’s given orders to everyone to behave as if nothing’s happened.’ She thought a moment. ‘I guess that’s about all,’ she said. ‘Bergsten’s coming across the steppes; Kalten, Bevier, and Caalador are already in Natayos; and Ulath, Tynian and their pet Troll will be there before long.’

  ‘Can you get word to the Emperor?’ Itagne asked her. ‘He should know that the King o
f Arjuna’s in league with Scarpa.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ she promised. Then she frowned slightly. ‘Sephrenia,’ she said, ‘have you been giving Stragen instruction in the secrets?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘He cast the spell of the secret summoning. He didn’t do it very well, but he got my attention.’

  ‘How in God’s name did he learn that?’ Vanion exclaimed, still holding Sephrenia in his arms.

  ‘Probably from watching the rest of you. Stragen’s very quick, and he does speak Styric. Stealing secrets is almost the same as picking pockets, I guess. Anyway, it was Stragen who told me about Scarpa’s other forts. He and Talen are planting false stories with that Dacite in order to confuse the other side.’

  ‘Methinks it is time for me to go to Natayos,’ Xanetia said. ‘We must verify the presence there of Anakha’s Queen and make preparations for her rescue.’

  ‘Before Zalasta tries to move her,’ Sparhawk added. ‘I’d better go along as well. The others are there already, and Kalten might need a firm hand to keep him from doing anything rash. Besides, if Ehlana and Alean are there, we might just as well pull them out of danger. Then I’ll disperse Scarpa’s army and we’ll go have a talk with Cyrgon.’

  ‘And Zalasta,’ Vanion added bleakly.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ Aphrael said, ‘is anybody keeping a list of the people we want to do things about? If you are, you can scratch off Baron Parok’s name.’

  ‘Did Ulath kill him?’ Sparhawk guessed.

  ‘He isn’t dead, Sparhawk. As a matter of fact, he’s going to live forever. You’ll never find him, though. Khwaj was getting impatient, and he started pushing Ulath and Tynian for information about the people who’d abducted Ehlana. They gave him Parok.’

  ‘What happened?’ Itagne asked.

  ‘Ghnomb froze time.’ She shrugged. ‘Then Khwaj set fire to Parok. He’s completely engulfed in flame. He’s still running, and he’ll run – and burn – in that empty, unmoving instant for all eternity.’

  ‘Dear God!’ Itagne choked in horror.

  ‘I’ll pass that on to Khwaj, Itagne,’ the Child Goddess promised. ‘I’m sure he’ll be pleased that you approve.’

  The air was cool and dry and the sky was peculiarly grey. Tynian and Ulath rode out of Arjun in frozen time with Bhlokw shambling along between their horses. ‘How long would you say it’s going to take us to reach Natayos?’ Tynian asked.

  ‘Oh,’ Ulath replied, I don’t know – couple of seconds, probably.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I rather liked it.’ Ulath looked up at the flock of birds hanging in mid-air overhead. ‘I wonder if a man ages at all when he’s walking around in this No-Time.’

  ‘I don’t know. You could go ask Baron Parok, I suppose.’

  ‘I doubt that he’d be very coherent.’ Ulath scratched at one bearded cheek. ‘I’m definitely going to shave this thing off, and if Gerda doesn’t like it, that’s just too bad.’ Then he thought of something he had been meaning to ask their shaggy friend. ‘Bhlokw,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, U-lat?’

  ‘It makes us sad that our hunt takes us to the lands of the sun where the heat causes hurt to you.’

  ‘It causes no hurt to me, U-lat. There is no heat or cold in No-Time.’

  Ulath stared at him. ‘You are sure?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Do you feel heat?’ Bhlokw asked simply.

  ‘No,’ Ulath admitted, ‘I do not. It had been my thought -’ He broke off, frowning and trying to frame his next question in coherent Trollish. ‘We were far to the north when you and your pack-mates ate the children of Cyrgon who were both dead and not dead.’

  ‘Yes. It was north from where we are now.’

  ‘Then Ghnomb took you and your pack-mates into No-Time.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then Ghworg led you to the lands of the sun.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There was no hurt caused to you when he did this?’

  ‘No. The hurt was caused by the things that were not how they should be.’

  ‘Which things were not how they should be?’

  ‘All of the Trolls were one pack. This is not how it should be. Troll-packs do not have so many. It is not a good way to hunt.’ Bhlokw rubbed at his shaggy face with one massive paw. ‘We did not hunt this way when we were in the Troll-range where we are supposed to be. My thought was that Ghworg’s mind was sick when he came to us and told us to cross the ice-which-never-melts to come to this place. It was not Ghworg who did this. It was Cyrgon. Cyrgon had made himself to look like Ghworg and spoke in Ghworg’s voice. It was my mind which was sick. My thought should have told me that it was not Ghworg.’

  ‘Does it cause hurt to you that the Trolls are all one pack?’

  ‘Much hurt, U-lat. I do not like it when things are not how they should be. I have known Grek for many snows. His pack hunts near my pack in the Troll-range. I do not like Grek. It has been in my thought for the past two snows to kill him. Ghworg will not let me kill him. This causes hurt to me.’

  ‘It will not be this way always, Bhlokw,’ Ulath said consolingly. ‘After we have killed all of Cyrgon’s children, the Gods will take the Trolls back to the Troll-range. Then things will be how they should be again.’

  ‘It will make me glad when they are. I would really like to kill Grek.’ Bhlokw shambled away mournfully.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Tynian asked.

  ‘Im not sure,’ Ulath admitted. ‘Im groping around the edges of something here. I know it’s right in front of me, but I can’t put my finger on it.’

  ‘For the moment, let’s just hope that the Troll-Gods can control the homicidal impulses of their children,’ Tynian said fervently.

  ‘Trollicidal,’ Ulath corrected.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said “homicidal”. Bhlokw wants to kill Grek. Grek’s a Troll. The right word would be “Trollicidal”.’

  ‘That’s petty quibbling, Ulath.’

  ‘Right is right, Tynian,’ Ulath replied in a faintly injured tone.

  It was still quite early the next morning when Aphrael returned from Sarna. The sky to the east was lit with the pale approach of day, even though the moon still held sway above the western horizon.

  Sparhawk and Xanetia had been waiting for no more than half an hour when they heard the familiar trill of Flute’s pipes coming from back in the dark forest.

  ‘That was quick,’ Sparhawk said as the Child Goddess joined them.

  ‘It’s not as if Sarna were on the other side of the continent, Sparhawk,’ she replied. I got them all settled in.’ She smiled. ‘Vanion’s being a pest. He was trying to make Sephrenia go to bed when I left.’

  ‘She has been very ill, Aphrael,’ he reminded her.

  ‘But she isn’t now. She needs to be up and moving about. Turn your backs.’

  Xanetia looked puzzled.

  ‘It’s one of her quirks,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘She doesn’t want people watching while she changes.’ He looked at the Child Goddess. ‘Don’t forget the clothes this time, Aphrael,’ he told her. ‘Let’s not offend the Anarae.’

  ‘You’re so tiresome about that, Sparhawk. Now please turn around.’

  It only took a few moments. ‘All right,’ Aphrael said. They turned. Sparhawk noted the Goddess was once again garbed in that satiny white robe.

  ‘Thou art fair beyond description, Divine One,’ Xanetia said.

  Aphrael shrugged. ‘I cheat a lot. Do you trust me, Anarae?’

  ‘With my life, Divine Aphrael.’

  ‘I hope you’re taking notes, Sparhawk.’

  ‘Have you arranged for some noise to hide what you’re doing from Zalasta?’

  ‘I don’t have to. Xanetia’s coming along, and her presence will conceal everything.’

  ‘I suppose I hadn’t thought of that,’ he admitted.

  ‘Now then, Anarae,’ Aphrael explained, ‘we’re all going to hold hands. Then we??
?ll rise up into the air. It’s really better if you don’t look down. As soon as we get above the tops of these mountains, we’ll start moving. You won’t feel any wind or sense of movement. Just hold onto my hand and try to think of something else. It won’t take very long.’ She squinted toward the eastern horizon. ‘We’d better get started. I’d like to get us to Natayos and into a good hiding place before Scarpa’s soldiers start stirring around.’ She held out her hands, and Sparhawk and Xanetia took them.

  Sparhawk steeled himself and watched the ground rapidly receding as they rose swiftly toward the dawn sky.

  ‘You’re squeezing, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him.

  ‘Sorry. I’m still not entirely used to this.’ He looked at Xanetia. The Anarae, all aglow, was a picture of absolute serenity as they rose higher and higher.

  ‘The world is fair,’ she said softly with a note of wonder in her voice.

  ‘If you get high so that you can’t see the ugliness.’ Aphrael smiled. ‘I come up here to think now and then. It’s one place where I can be fairly sure I won’t be interrupted.’ She took a bearing on the newly risen sun, which had seemed almost to rush up into the sky as they rose, set her face resolutely toward the southeast and gave a peculiar little nod.

  The earth beneath began to flow smoothly, rushing toward them from the front and receding just as rapidly behind.

  ‘It seemeth me a merry way to travel,’ Xanetia observed.

  ‘I've always rather liked it,’ Aphrael agreed. ‘It’s certainly faster than plodding along on horseback.’

  They fled southeasterly with an eerie kind of silence around them.

  ‘The Sea of Arjun,’ Sparhawk said, pointing toward a large body of water off to the right.

  ‘So small?’ Xanetia said. ‘I had thought it larger.’

  ‘We’re up quite a ways,’ Aphrael explained. ‘Everything looks small from a distance.’

  They sped on and were soon over the dense green jungle that covered the southeastern coast of the continent.