‘I’ll talk with Faran,’ Aphrael promised.
‘You won’t need to limp on your way to Sepal,’ Ulath told Khalad. ‘Ghnomb’s going to see to it that Tynian and I are there long before you arrive. You might be able to see us when you get there, but you might not. I’m having a little trouble explaining some things to the Troll-Gods. We’ll be able to see you, though. If I can’t make Ghnomb understand, I’ll slip a note in your pocket.’
‘If we do come out in the open, you’ll just love our traveling companion,’ Tynian laughed.
Berit gave him a puzzled look. ‘Who’s that, Sir Tynian?’
‘Bhlokw. He’s a Troll.’
‘It’s Ghnomb’s idea,’ Ulath explained. ‘I have to go through a little ceremony before I can talk with the Troll-Gods. Bhlokw doesn’t. It speeds up communication. Anyway, we’ll be there and out of sight. If Scarpa and Zalasta try to make the trade there in Sepal, we’ll step out of No-Time, grab the lot of you, and disappear again.’
‘That’s assuming that they’re taking Queen Ehlana to Sepal to make the exchange,’ Itagne said. ‘We’ve got some things that don’t match up, though. Sir Kalten picked up a rumor that Scarpa’s holding the Queen and her maid in Natayos.’
‘I wouldn’t want to wager the farm on it, your Excellency, Kalten said. ‘It’s second-hand information at best. The fellow I talked with probably isn’t bright enough to make up stories, and he didn’t have any reason to lie to me. He got his information from somebody else, though, and that makes the whole thing a little wormy.’
‘You’ve put your finger on the problem, Sir Kalten,’ Sarabian said. ‘Soldiers gossip worse than old women.’ He tugged at one earlobe and looked up at the rainbow-colored sky. ‘The other side knows that I wasn’t entirely dependent on the Ministry of the Interior for information, so they’ll expect me to have ears in Natayos. This story Sir Kalten heard could have been planted for our benefit. Prince Sparhawk, is there any way at all you could use Bhelliom to confirm the rumor?’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ Sephrenia said flatly. ‘Zalasta would know immediately if Sparhawk did that.’
‘I’m not so sure, little mother,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘It was just recently that we found out that the gold box doesn’t totally isolate Bhelliom. I’m getting a strong feeling that a great deal of what we think we know about Bhelliom is pure misdirection. The rings evidently don’t really mean anything at all—except possibly as a means of communication, and the gold box doesn’t appear to be relevant either. It could be an idea Bhelliom planted to keep us from enclosing it in iron. I’m guessing, but I’d say that the touch of iron is still painful to it, but whether it’s painful enough to actually confine it isn’t all that certain.’
‘He’s right, you know,’ Aphrael told her sister. ‘A great deal of what we think we know about Bhelliom came from Ghwerig, and Bhelliom had absolute control of Ghwerig. Our mistake was believing that Ghwerig knew what he was talking about.’
‘That still doesn’t answer the question about using Bhelliom to investigate things in Natayos,’ Sparhawk said, ‘and it’s not the sort of thing I’d want to experiment with.’
‘I will go to Natayos,’ Xanetia said quietly. ‘It had been mine intent to go unseen to Sepal, but Sir Tynian and Sir Ulath will be there already, and well able to determine if the Queen be truly there. I will go to Natayos and seek her there instead.’
‘Absolutely not!’ Sarabian said. ‘I forbid it.’
‘I am not subject to thee, Sarabian of Tamuli,’ she reminded him. ‘But fear not. There is no peril involved for me. None will know that I am there, and I can reach out to those who are about me and share their thoughts. I will soon be able to determine whether or no the Queen and her maidservant are in Natayos. This is precisely the kind of service we offered when we concluded our pact with Anakha.’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ he said stubbornly.
‘It seemeth me that thou hast forgot mine other gift, Sarabian of Tamuli,’ she told him quite firmly. ‘The curse of Edaemus is still upon me, and my touch is still death, an I choose it so. Fear not for me, Sarabian, for should necessity compel me to it, I can spread death and terror through Natayos. Though it doth cause me pain to confess it, I can make Natayos once more a waste, a weed-choked ruin populated only by the dead.’
10
The city of Sama in Western Tamul Proper lay just to the south of the Atan border in the deep gorge of the river from which it took its name. The surrounding mountains were steep and rugged and were covered with dark evergreens which sighed endlessly in the prevailing wind sweeping down out of the wilderness to the north. The weather was cold, and the leaden sky spat stinging pellets of snow as Vanion’s army of Church Knights slowly descended the long, steep road leading down into the gorge. Vanion and Itagne, muffled in their heavy cloaks, rode at the head of the column.
‘I’d have much preferred to stay on Aphrael’s island,’ Itagne said, shivering and pulling his cloak tighter. ‘I’ve never been particularly fond of this time of year.’
‘We’re almost there, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied.
‘Is it customary to campaign in the wintertime, Lord Vanion?’ Itagne asked. ‘In Eosia, I mean?’
‘We try to avoid it, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied. ‘The Lamorks attack each other in the winter, but the rest of us usually have better sense.’
‘It’s a miserable time to go to war.’
Vanion smiled faintly. ‘That it is, my friend, but that’s not why we avoid it. It’s a question of economics, really. It’s more expensive to campaign in winter because you have to buy hay for the horses. It’s the expense that keeps Elene kings peaceful when there’s snow on the ground.’ Vanion stood up in his stirrups to peer ahead. ‘Betuana’s waiting,’ he said. ‘We’d better ride down to meet her.’
Itagne nodded, and they pushed their horses into a jolting trot.
The Queen of Atan had left them at Dasan on the eastern edge of the mountains to come on ahead. She had several very good reasons, of course, but Vanion privately suspected that her decision had been influenced more by impatience than necessity. Betuana was too polite to speak of it, but she clearly had little use for horses, and she seldom missed an opportunity to outrun them. She and Engessa, both garbed in otter-skins, waited at the roadside about a mile outside the city.
‘Was there any trouble?’ the Atan Queen asked.
‘No, your Majesty,’ Vanion replied, his black armor clinking as he swung down out of his saddle. ‘We were watched, but there’s nothing unusual about that. Has anything been happening in Cynesga?’
‘They’re moving up to the border, Vanion-Preceptor,’ Engessa replied quietly. ‘They aren’t being very subtle about it. We’ve been disrupting their supply lines and ambushing their scouting parties just to keep them off-balance, but it’s fairly obvious that they plan to come across the line in force.’
Vanion nodded. ‘It’s more or less what we expected, then. If it’s all right with you, your Majesty, I’d like to get my men settled in before we get too involved in discussions. I can always think better after I’ve seen to all the details.’
‘Of course,’ Betuana agreed. ‘Engessa-Atan and I have arranged quarters for them. When will you be leaving for Samar?’
‘Tomorrow or the next day, Betuana-Queen. Tikume’s Peloi are probably spread a little thin down there. He has a lot of ground to cover.’
‘He sent back to Pela for more men, Vanion-Lord,’ Engessa advised. ‘You’ll have a sizeable force in Samar in a week or so.’
‘Good. Let me go back and hurry the knights along. We have much to discuss.’
Night settled early at the bottom of the gorge of the River Sama, and it was fully dark by the time Vanion joined the others in the headquarters of the city’s Atan garrison. Like all Atan structures, the building was severely utilitarian and devoid of any embellishment. The lone exception in the conference room in which they gathered was a very large map covering one entire wall. The map was brightly colored and dotted here and there with fanciful illustrations. Vanion had bathed hurriedly and now wore plain clothing. The years had taught him that armor was impressive and even useful at times, but that no one had yet devised a way to make it comfortable or to eliminate its characteristic smell.