The Hidden City (7 page)

‘Yes, your Excellency, quite mad. It wasn't only
his
behavior that convinced me of it. Krager and the others treated him the way you'd treat a live cobra. They're terrified of him.'

‘That dovetails rather neatly with some of the reports I got from the thieves of Arjuna,' Caalador agreed. ‘There's always a certain amount of exaggeration involved when people talk about madmen, but every report that came in mentioned it.'

‘If you're trying to make Sparhawk and me feel better, you're going at it in a strange way, Caalador,' Kalten accused. ‘You're suggesting that the women we love are the prisoners of a crazy man. He could do
anything.'

‘It might not be as bad as it looks, Sir Kalten,' Oscagne said. ‘If Scarpa's mad, couldn't this abduction have been
his
idea alone? If that's the case, our solution becomes almost too simple. Prince Sparhawk simply follows the instructions he receives to the letter, and when Scarpa
appears with Queen Ehlana and Alean, his Highness simply hands over the Bhelliom. We all know what'll happen to Scarpa as soon as he touches it.'

‘You're equating insanity with feeble-mindedness, Oscagne,' Sarabian disagreed, ‘and that's simply not the way it works. Zalasta knows that the rings would protect him if he ever managed to get his hands on Bhelliom, and if he knows, then we have to assume that Scarpa does, too. He'll demand the rings before he even tries to touch the jewel.'

‘We have three possibilities then,' Patriarch Emban summed it all up. ‘Either Cyrgon instructed Zalasta to arrange for the abduction, or Zalasta came up with the notion on his own, or Scarpa's so crazy that he thinks he can just pick up Bhelliom and start giving it commands with no instruction or preparation at all.'

‘There's one more possibility, your Grace,' Ulath said. ‘Klæl could already be in charge, and this could be his way to force Bhelliom to come to
him
for their customary contest.'

‘What difference does it make at this point?' Sparhawk asked suddenly. ‘We won't know whose idea it is until we see who shows up to make the exchange.'

‘We
should
have some plans in place, Prince Sparhawk,' Oscagne pointed out. ‘We should try to think our way through each situation so that we'll know what to do.'

‘I already know what I'm going to do, your Excellency,' Sparhawk told him bleakly.

‘At the moment, we can't do anything,' Vanion said, moving in rather quickly. ‘All we can do is wait for Krager's next note.'

‘Truly,' Ulath agreed. ‘Krager's going to give Sparhawk instructions. Those instructions might give us some clues about whose idea this
really
is,'

* * *

‘You noticed it, too, didn't you?' Berit said to Khalad that evening when the two of them were getting ready for bed.

‘Noticed what?'

‘Don't play the innocent with me, Khalad. You see everything that's going on around you.
Nothing
gets by you. Sparhawk and Sephrenia were behaving very peculiarly when Flute and Danae were talking to each other.'

‘Yes,' Khalad admitted calmly. ‘So what?'

‘Aren't you curious about why?'

‘Has it occurred to you that “why” might not be any of our business?'

Berit stepped round that. ‘Did you notice how much the two little girls resemble each other?'

Khalad shrugged. ‘You're the expert on girls.'

Berit suddenly blushed and silently cursed himself for blushing.

‘It isn't a secret, you know,' Khalad told him. ‘Empress Elysoun's fairly obvious. She doesn't hide her feelings any more than she hides – well, you know.'

‘She's a good girl,' Berit quickly came to her defense. ‘It's just that her people don't pay any attention to our kind of morality. They can't even comprehend the notion of fidelity.'

‘I'm not throwing rocks at her. If the way she behaves doesn't bother her husband, it certainly doesn't bother me. I'm a country boy, remember? We're more realistic about things like that. I just wouldn't get
too
attached to her, Berit. Her attention may wander in time.'

‘It already has,' Berit replied. ‘She doesn't want to discontinue
our
friendship, though. She wants to be friendly to me
and
to him – and to the half-dozen or so others she neglected to mention earlier.'

‘The world needs more friendliness, Berit,' Khalad
grinned. There wouldn't be so many wars if people were friendlier.'

Krager's next note arrived two days later, and it was authenticated by another lock of Ehlana's hair. The thought of the sodden drunkard violating his Queen's pale blonde hair enraged Berit for some obscure reason. Vanion once again read the note to them while Sparhawk sat somewhat apart, gently holding the lock of his wife's hair in his fingers.

‘ “Sparhawk, old boy,”' the note began. ‘ “You don't mind if I call you that, do you? I always admired the way Martel sort of tossed that off when everything was going his way. It was possibly the
only
thing about him that I admired.

‘ “Enough of these fond reminiscences. You're going to be making a trip, Sparhawk. We want you to take your squire and travel by the customary overland route to Beresa in southeastern Arjuna. You'll be watched, so don't take any side-trips, don't have Kalten and the other baboons trailing along behind you, don't have Sephrenia disguised as a mouse or a flea hidden in your pocket, and most
definitely
don't use Bhelliom for anything at all – not even for building campfires. I know we can depend on your absolute co-operation, old boy, since you'll never see Ehlana alive again if you misbehave.

‘ “It's always a pleasure to talk with you, Sparhawk, particularly in view of the fact that it's
your
hands that are chained
this
time. Now stop wasting time. Take Khalad and the Bhelliom and go to Beresa. You'll receive further instructions there. Fondly, Krager”.'

They talked and talked and talked, and every ‘maybe' or ‘possibly' or ‘probably' or ‘on the other hand' set Sparhawk's teeth on edge. It was all pure speculation, useless guessing that circled and circled and never got to the point. He sat slightly apart from them holding the lock of pale hair. The hair felt strangely alive, coiling round his fingers in a soft caress.

It was his fault, of course. He should never have permitted Ehlana to come to Tamuli. It went further than that, though. Ehlana had been in danger all her life, and it had all been because of him – because of the fact that he was Anakha. Xanetia had said that Anakha was invincible, but she was wrong. Anakha was as vulnerable as
any
married man. By marrying Ehlana, he had immediately put her at risk, a risk that would last for as long as she lived.

He should never have married her. He loved her, of course, but was it an act of love to put her in danger? He silently cursed the weakness that had led him to even consider the ridiculous notion when she had first raised it. He was a soldier, and soldiers should never marry – particularly not scarred, battered old veterans with too many years and too many battles behind them and too many enemies still about. Was he some selfish old fool? Some disgusting, half-senile lecher eager to take advantage of a foolish young girl's infatuation? Ehlana had extravagantly declared that she would die if he refused her, but he knew better than that. People die from a sword in the belly, or from old age, but they
do not die from love. He should have laughed in her face and rejected her absurd command. Then he could have arranged a proper marriage for her, a marriage to some handsome young nobleman with good manners and a safe occupation. If he had, she would still be safely back in Cimmura instead of in the hands of madmen, degenerate sorcerers and alien Gods to whom her life meant nothing at all.

And still they talked on and on and on. Why were they wasting all their breath? There wasn't any choice in the matter. Sparhawk would obey the instructions because Ehlana's life depended on it. The others were certain to argue with him about it, and the arguments would only irritate him. The best thing would probably be just to take the Bhelliom and Khalad and slip out of Matherion without giving them the chance to drive him mad with their meaningless babble.

It was the touch of a springlike breeze on his cheek and a soft nuzzling on his hand that roused him from his gloomy reverie.

‘It was not mine intent to disturb thy thought, Sir Knight,' the white deer apologized, ‘but my mistress would have words with thee.'

Sparhawk jerked his head round in astonishment. He no longer sat in the blue-draped room in Matherion, and the voices of the others had faded away to be replaced by the sound of the gentle lapping of waves upon a golden strand. His chair now sat on the marble floor of Aphrael's temple on the small verdant island that rose gem-like from the sea. The breeze was soft under the rainbow-colored sky, and the ancient oaks around the alabaster temple rustled softly.

‘Thou hast forgotten me,' the gentle white hind reproached him, her liquid eyes touched with sorrow.

‘Never,' he replied. ‘I shall remember thee always, dear creature, for I do love thee, even as I did when
first we met.' The extravagant expression came to his lips unbidden.

The white deer sighed happily and laid her snowy head in his lap. He stroked her arched white neck and looked around.

The Child Goddess Aphrael, gowned in white and surrounded by a glowing nimbus, sat calmly on a branch of one of the nearby oaks. She lifted her many-chambered pipes and blew an almost mocking little trill.

‘What are you up to now, Aphrael?' he called up to her, deliberately forcing away the flowery words that jumped to his lips.

‘I thought you might want to talk,' she replied, lowering the pipes. ‘Did you want some more time for self-mortification? Would you like a whip so that you can flog yourself with it? Take as much time as you want, Father. This particular instant will last for as long as I want it to.' She reached out with one grass-stained little foot, placed it on nothing at all and calmly walked down a non-existent stairway to the alabaster floor of her temple. She sank down on it, crossed her feet at the ankles and lifted her pipes again. ‘Will it disturb your sour musings if I play?'

‘Just what do you think you're doing?' he demanded.

She shrugged. ‘You seem to have this obscure need for penance of some kind, and there's no time for it. I wouldn't be much of a Goddess if I couldn't satisfy both needs at the same time, now would I?' She raised her pipes. ‘Do you have any favorites you'd like to hear?'

‘You're actually serious, aren't you?'

‘Yes.' She breathed another little trill into the pipes.

He glared at her for a moment, and then he gave up. ‘Can we talk about this?' he asked her.

‘You've come to your senses? Already? Amazing.'

He looked around at the island. ‘Where is this place?' he asked curiously.

The Child Goddess shrugged. ‘Wherever I want it to be. I carry it with me everyplace I go. Were you serious about what you were just thinking, Sparhawk? Were you really going to snatch up Bhelliom, grab Khalad by the scruff of the neck, leap onto Faran's back and try to ride off in three directions at the same time?'

‘All Vanion and the others are doing is talking, Aphrael, and the talk isn't going anywhere.'

‘Did you speak with Bhelliom about this notion of yours?'

‘The decision is
mine,
Aphrael. Ehlana's
my
wife.'

‘How brave you are, Sparhawk. You're making a decision that involves the Bhelliom without even consulting it. Don't be misled by its seeming politeness, Father. That's just a reflection of its archaic speech. It
won't
do something it knows is wrong, no matter how sorry you're feeling for yourself, and if you grow
too
insistent, it might just decide to create a new sun – about six inches from your heart.'

‘I have the rings, Aphrael. I'm still the one giving the orders.'

She laughed at him. ‘Do you
really
think the rings mean anything, Sparhawk? They have no control over Bhelliom at all. That was just a subterfuge that concealed the fact that it has an awareness – and a will and purpose of its own. It can ignore the rings any time it wants to.'

‘Then why did it need me?'

‘Because you're a necessity, Sparhawk – like wind or tide or rain. You're as necessary as Klæl is – or Bhelliom – or me, for that matter. Someday we'll have to come back here and have a long talk about necessity, but we're a little pressed for time right now.'

‘And was that little virtuoso performance of yours yesterday another necessity as well? Would the world have come to an end if you hadn't held that public conversation with yourself?'

‘What I did yesterday was useful, Father, not necessary. I am who I am, and I can't change that. When I'm going through one of these transitions, there are usually people around who know both of the little girls, and they start noticing the similarities. I always make it a point to have the girls meet each other in public. It puts off tiresome questions and lays unwanted suspicions to rest.'

‘You terrified Mmrr, you know.'

She nodded. ‘I'll make it up to her. That's always been a problem. Animals can see right through my disguises. They don't look at us in the way that we look at each other.'

He sighed. ‘What am I going to do, Aphrael?'

‘I was hoping that a visit here would bring you back to your senses. A stopover in reality usually has that effect.'

He looked up at her private, rainbow-colored sky.
‘This
is your notion of reality?'

‘Don't you like my reality?'