The Hidden City (38 page)

‘Who's in command?'

‘One of Romalic's servants – an old man called Abriel –
was
in charge when they left Chyrellos, but he got killed in Zemoch, so one of the high priests of the Church of the Elene God – a Thalesian named Bergsten – is giving orders now.'

‘I should have guessed,' she said. ‘I have a few things to take care of first. Then I'll go find Bergsten and get a
true
account of what happened.'

‘I was
only
trying to help.' Setras sounded a little injured.

‘You did just fine, cousin,' Aphrael forgave him. ‘It's not your fault that you haven't been keeping abreast of things here.'

‘I have important things on my mind, Aphrael,' he said defensively. ‘Come by my studio some time,' he added brightly. I made a sunset the other day that's probably one of the best pieces I've ever done. It's so lovely that I've decided to keep it.'

‘Setras! You can't just stop the sun that way!'

‘There's nobody living there, Aphrael. They won't notice.'

‘Oh, dear!' She buried her face in her hands.

‘You're disappointed in me, aren't you?' His lower lip
trembled slightly, and his large, luminous eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘And I try so hard to make you and the others proud of me.'

‘No, Setras,' she said. ‘I still love you.'

He brightened. ‘Everything's all right then, isn't it?'

‘You're a dear, Setras.' She kissed him. ‘Run along now. I have to talk with these others.'

‘You
will
come and look at my sunset, won't you?'

‘Of course, cousin. Go along now.' She lifted her drowsing cat and blew into the furry creature's ear. ‘Wake up, Mmrr,' she said.

The yellow eyes opened.

‘Go back to the place where we nest,' the little Princess said, speaking in cat. ‘I have to do something.' She set Mmrr down on the floor, and the cat arched her back, hooking her tail into a sinuous question-mark, and yawned. Then she padded off down the corridor.

Danae looked around, probing with eyes and mind to make certain she was alone. There were human males knocking around the halls of this castle, and the appearance of a naked Goddess always excited them. It was flattering, of course, but it was also a little confusing for a being with a total lack of any reproductive urges. No matter how hard she tried, Aphrael had never been able to understand how the mating impulse of human males could be so indiscriminate.

The Child Goddess briefly resumed her true person and then divided, becoming both little girls.

‘You're starting to get older, Danae,' Flute noted.

‘Does it show? Already?'

‘It's noticeable. You still have a way to go before you're fully mature, though. Are you really sure you want to go through with this?'

‘It might help us all to understand them a little better. I don't think Setras even knows that it takes a male and a female to – well, you know.' Danae blushed.

‘Setras isn't overly bright. Can I borrow Mirtai?' Flute asked.

‘What for?'

‘You don't really need her here, and after what happened in Dirgis, I'd like to have somebody I trust to stand guard over Sephrenia.'

‘Good idea. Let's go talk with Sarabian and the others. They'll be able to send messengers to people we don't have any contacts with.'

Flute nodded. ‘It would be
so
much more convenient if they were
all
ours.'

Danae laughed. ‘I think Setras was right. We
are
greedy, aren't we?'

‘We love them all, Danae. I don't see any reason why they can't love us.'

The two little girls started off down the corridor hand in hand. ‘Danae,' Flute said, ‘do you think Mirtai might be afraid of heights?'

‘He
does
look a lot like that picture Talen drew, doesn't he?' Tynian murmured to Ulath.

‘Very close,' Ulath agreed. ‘That boy has a tremendous talent.'

‘Yes. He draws well, too.'

Ulath laughed shortly. Then he looked at the men clustered around Parok and drew Tynian a little further away from them. ‘Parok's giving all the orders,' he whispered, ‘but the Arjuni in the flamboyant doublet speaks for King Rakya.'

‘Sarabian's going to be very put out with the King of Arjuna.'

Ulath nodded. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see a new king on the throne before long.'

‘What exactly did Parok say about Natayos? You couldn't have mistaken his meaning, could you?'

‘Not a chance, Tynian. Just before he got into the
argument with Duke Milanis, Parok said that Scarpa wanted to move his army out of Natayos before they gave Sparhawk the last note. I almost started cheering when he said that they were going to tell Sparhawk to go to Natayos for the exchange.'

‘We'll have to be careful, though. They
could
be holding Ehlana someplace else. They may not take her to Natayos until the last minute.'

‘We'll find out for sure once Xanetia goes there,' Ulath shrugged.

The door to the book-lined room opened, and a liveried servant hurried in. ‘An important message has arrived from Natayos, Baron,' he told Parok. ‘The messenger rode his horse half to death.'

‘Horses are cheap. Send the fellow in.'

‘I could learn to dislike that man,' Tynian murmured.

‘I already do,' Ulath replied. He looked up speculatively. ‘We're sort of invisible, aren't we?' he asked.

That's what Ghnomb says.'

‘Can you imagine the expression Parok would get on his face if he suddenly got ripped up the front with an invisible knife?'

‘Slowly,' Tynian added. ‘Very, very slowly.'

The messenger from Natayos was a shabbily dressed Dacite, and he was reeling with exhaustion as he staggered into the room. ‘Baron,' he gasped. ‘Thank God I found you.'

‘Speak up, man!'

‘Could I have a drink of water?'

‘Talk first. Then you can drink anything you want.'

‘Lord Scarpa ordered me to tell you that the man you've been watching
isn't
Sparhawk.'

‘I see that Scarpa's finally gone completely mad.'

‘No, Baron. Zalasta confirmed it. Somebody they call Klæl went and had a look at this man you've been giving the notes to. They seemed to think you'd know who
this Klæl fellow is. Anyway, he sent word that the man with the broken nose
looks
like Sparhawk, but it's not really him. This Klæl must have some way to know for sure.'

Parok began to swear sulphurously.

‘That tears it,' Tynian growled. ‘I'll pass this on to Aphrael. We'd better get Berit and Khalad to safety.'

‘Did Scarpa kill Sparhawk's wife?' Baron Parok asked the messenger.

‘No, my Lord Baron. He was going to, but Zalasta stopped him. I'm supposed to tell you not to do anything to let the imposter know that we're on to him. Zalasta needs some time to move the prisoners to someplace that's safe. He wants you to continue as if nothing had happened. After he has those two women clear, he'll get word to you that it's all right to kill the man who's posing as Sparhawk.'

‘Zalasta's in full command then?'

‘Yes, Baron Parok. Lord Scarpa's a bit – ah – distraught, I suppose you might say.'

‘You might say crazy, too. That'd be more accurate.' Parok started to pace the floor. ‘I wondered how much it would take to push Scarpa over the edge,' he muttered. ‘It's probably better this way anyhow. Zalasta's a Styric, but at least his head's on straight. Go back and tell him that I've received his message and that I won't do anything to upset his plans. Let him know that I have no real fondness for Scarpa and that I'll be completely loyal to him.'

‘I will, my Lord Baron.'

Duke Milanis rose and crossed the room to close the window. ‘What in God's name is that awful smell?' he exclaimed.

Tynian turned and saw the hulking Troll standing just behind them. ‘Bhlokw,' he said, ‘it is not good that you come into the dens of the man-things this way.'

‘I was sent by Khwaj, Tin-in,' Bhlokw explained. ‘Khwaj grows tired of waiting. He wants to burn the wicked ones always.'

Then their dim half-moment suddenly filled with smoke, and the enormous presence of the Fire-God was there. ‘Your hunt takes too long, Ulath-from-Thalesia. Have you found any of the wicked ones yet? If you have, point out which one it is. I will make it burn forever.'

Tynian and Ulath exchanged a long look. Then Tynian grinned wolfishly. ‘Let's,' he said.

‘Why don't we?' Ulath agreed. He looked at the flickering God of Fire. ‘Our hunt has been successful, Khwaj,' he declared. ‘We have found one of the ones who stole Anakha's mate. You can make it burn forever now.' He paused. There are others we also hunt, though,' he added. ‘We do not want to frighten them away so that they will be harder to hunt. Can Ghnomb put the one we have found into No-Time? You can burn it always there. When it burns in No-Time, the others of its herd will not smell the smoke or hear the crying out with hurt, and so they will not run away.'

‘Your thought is good, Ulath-from-Thalesia,' Khwaj agreed. I will talk with Ghnomb about this. He will make it so that the one who burns always burns in the time which does not move. Which one of these should I burn?'

‘That one,' Ulath replied, pointing at Baron Parok.

Duke Milanis was turning from the window when he suddenly stopped, becoming a statue in mid-stride.

Baron Parok continued his restless pacing. ‘We're going to have to start taking extra precautions,' he said, not yet realizing that the men around him were no longer moving. Then he turned and almost bumped into the exhausted messenger from Natayos. ‘Get out of my way, idiot!' he snapped.

The man did not move.

‘I told you to take a message to Zalasta,' Parok raged. ‘Why are you still here?' He struck the messenger across the face and cried out in pain as his hand hit something harder than stone. He looked around wildly. ‘What's the matter with all of you?' he demanded in a shrill voice.

‘What did it say?' Khwaj's voice was dreadful.

Parok gaped at the vast Troll-God, shrieked, and ran for the door.

‘It does not understand that it is now in No-Time,' Ulath replied in Trollish.

‘It should know why it is being punished,' Khwaj decided. ‘Will it understand if you talk to it in the bird-noises of the man-things?'

‘I will
make
it understand,' Ulath promised.

‘It is good that you will. Speak to it.'

Parok was hammering futilely on the immovable door.

‘That won't do you any good, old boy,' Ulath urbanely advised the terrified Dacite nobleman. ‘Things have definitely taken a turn for the worse for you, Baron. This large fellow with the smoke coming out of his ears is the Troll-God Khwaj. He disapproves of your abduction of Queen Ehlana.'

‘Who are you?' Parok half-screamed. ‘What's going on here?'

‘You've been brought to the palace of punishment, Baron,' Tynian advised him. ‘As my friend here just explained, Khwaj is quite put out with you. Trolls are a very moralistic sort. Things that we've come to take in stride – abductions, poisonings, and holding people for ransom – upset them enormously. There
is
one small advantage, though. You're going to live forever, Baron Parok. You'll never, ever die.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘You'll see.'

‘Does it understand now?' Khwaj demanded impatiently.

‘It is our thought that it does,' Ulath replied in Trollish.

‘Good.' Khwaj implacably advanced on the cringing Dacite, extending one vast paw. Then he clapped it down on top of Parok's head. ‘Burn!' he growled.

Baron Parok shrieked.

Then his face seemed to split, and incandescent fire came spurting out through his skin. His doublet smoked for an instant and then flashed into ashes.

He shrieked again.

His form was still the form of a man, but it was a form etched in flame. The Baron burned, unconsumed, and he danced and howled in agony.

Khwaj struck the immovable door with one huge paw, and the door burst outward in flaming chunks. ‘Go!' he roared. ‘Run! Run forever, and burn always!'

The flaming Dacite fled shrieking.

The town of Arjun stood frozen in that eternal instant of perpetual now. The citizens, like statues, stood frozen stock-still, unaware of the burning wraith that ran through their silent streets. They did not hear its agonized screams. They did not see it flee toward the lake-shore.

Baron Parok, all ablaze, ran, trailing greasy smoke. He reached the docks and fled in flames out a long pier stretching into the dark waters of the Sea of Arjun. He did not pause when he reached the end of the pier, but plunged off, yearning toward the quenching water. But, like the moment itself, the surface of the lake was unyielding and as hard as diamond. The wraith of flame howled in frustration, kneeling on the glittering surface and hammering on it, pleading to be let in, begging to drown in the blessed coolness just beyond reach. Then
Parok leaped to his feet, driven by the Troll-God's awful command. Shrieking still in agony and unutterable loneliness, the man-shape of eternal flame ran out across the dark crystal surface, receding incandescent until it was no more than a single bright spark far out on the night-darkened lake. And its lost wail of pain and endless solitude came echoing back to the incurious shore.

‘I wish Sparhawk would find his way home again,' Talen muttered as he and Stragen once again climbed the rickety stairs to the loft. ‘We've got some fairly important information, and there's no way to pass it on to the others.'

‘There's nothing we can do about it right now,' Stragen told him. ‘Let's see how Valash reacts to this story you cooked up. Keep it sort of vague until we see which way he jumps.'