‘I just put it together myself.’
‘What did you put together? Try to make a little sense, Kalten.’
‘Didn’t you hear her singing on the day we left?’
‘Of course I did. She has a beautiful voice.’
‘I’m not talking about her voice. I’m talking about the song she was singing. It was “My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy”.’
‘So?’
‘It’s Berit, Sparhawk. She’s in love with Berit.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I just noticed it when we sat down to supper.’ Kalten buried his face in his hands again. ‘I never paid any attention before, but when I looked into his face while we were talking, I saw it. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yourself.’
‘Seen what?’
‘Berit’s got blue eyes.’
Sparhawk stared at him. Then, being careful not to laugh, he said, ‘So do you – when they’re not bloodshot.’
Kalten shook his head stubbornly. ‘His are bluer than mine. I know it’s him. I just know it! God’s punishing me for some of the things I’ve done in the past. He made me fall in love with a girl who loves somebody else. Well, I hope He’s satisfied. If He wants to make me suffer, He’s doing a good job of it.’
‘Will you be serious?’
‘Berit’s younger than I am, Sparhawk, and God knows he’s better looking.’
‘Kalten.’
‘Look at the way every girl who gets to within a hundred yards of him starts to follow him around like a puppy. Even the Atan girls were all falling in love with him.’
‘Kalten.’
‘I know it’s him. I just know it. God’s twisting His knife in my heart. He’s gone and made the one girl I’ll ever feel this way about fall in love with one of my brother-knights.’
‘Kalten.’
Kalten sat up and squared his shoulders. ‘All right, then,’ he said weakly, ‘if that’s the way God wants it, that’s the way it’s going to be. If Berit and Alean really, really love each other, I won’t stand in their way. I’ll bite my tongue and keep my mouth shut.’
‘Kalten.’
‘But I swear it to you, Sparhawk,’ the blond Pandion said hotly, ‘if he hurts her, I’ll kill him!’
‘Kalten!’ Sparhawk shouted at him.
‘What?’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘Why don’t we go out and get drunk?’ he suggested, giving up entirely.
It was cloudy the following morning. It was a low, dirtygray cloud-cover which seethed and tattered in the stiff wind aloft. It was one of those peculiar days when the murk raced overhead, streaming in off the gulf lying to the west, but the air at the surface was dead calm.
They set out early and clattered along the narrow, cobbled streets where sleepy-eyed shopkeepers were opening their shutters and setting out their wares. They passed through the city gates and took the road that followed the north coast of the gulf.
After they had gone a mile or so, Vanion leaned over in his saddle. ‘How far do we have to go?’ he asked Flute, who nestled, as always, in her sister’s arms.
‘What difference does it make?’ the Child Goddess shrugged.
‘I’d like to know how long it’s going to take.’
‘What does “how far” have to do with “how long”?’
‘They’re the same thing, Aphrael. Time and distance mean the same thing when you’re traveling.’
‘Not if you know what you’re doing, they don’t.’
Sparhawk had always admired Vanion, but never quite so much as in that moment. The silvery-bearded preceptor did not even raise his voice. ‘All I’m really getting at, Divine One, is that nobody knows we’re here. Shouldn’t we keep it that way? I don’t mind a good fight now and then, but would bashing our way through crowds of drunken Edomish peasants serve any real purpose right now?’
‘You always take so long to get to the point, Vanion,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me to speed things up?’
‘I was trying to be polite. I think we’ll all feel much better about this when Sparhawk’s got Bhelliom in his hands again. It’s up to you, though. If you want the road from here to wherever it is you’ve got Bhelliom hidden awash with blood and littered with corpses, we’ll be happy to oblige you.’
‘He’s hateful,’ Aphrael said to her sister.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’
‘You wouldn’t. Sometimes you two are worse than Sparhawk and Ehlana.’
Sparhawk moved in rather quickly at that point. Aphrael was coming very close to saying things which she shouldn’t be saying in the presence of the others. ‘Shall we move right along?’ he suggested quite firmly. ‘Vanion’s right, Aphrael, and you know he is. If Rebal finds out that we’re here, we’ll have to wade through his people by the score.’
‘All right,’ she gave in quite suddenly.
‘That was quick,’ Talen said to Khalad. ‘I thought she was going to be stubborn about it.’
‘No, Talen,’ she smirked. ‘Actually, I’m sort of looking forward to hearing that vast cry of chagrin that’s going to echo from every mountain in Daresia when our enemies hear the sound of Anakha’s fist closing around Bhelliom again. Just lean back in your saddles, gentlemen, and leave the rest to me.’
Sparhawk awoke with a start. They were riding along the brink of a windswept cliff with an angry sea ripping itself to tattered froth on the rocks far below. Sephrenia rode in the lead, and she held Flute enfolded in her arms. The others trailed along behind, their cloaks drawn tightly around them and wooden expressions of endurance on their faces. The wind had risen, and it pushed at them and tugged at their cloaks.
There were some significant impossibilities involved here, but Sparhawk’s mind seemed somehow numb to them. Normally, Vanion rode protectively close to Sephrenia, but Vanion didn’t seem to be with them now.
Tynian, however, was. Sparhawk knew with absolute certainty that Tynian was a thousand leagues and more away, but there he was, his broad face as wooden as the faces of the others and his right shoulder as functional as ever.
Sparhawk did not turn round. He knew that another impossibility was riding behind him.
Their horses plodded up the winding trail that followed the edge of the long, ascending cliff toward a rocky promontory which thrust a crooked, stony finger out into the sea. At the outermost tip of the promontory stood a gnarled and twisted tree, its streaming branches flailing in the wind.
When she reached the tree, Sephrenia reined in. Kurik walked forward to lift Flute down. Sparhawk felt a sharp pang of bitter resentment. He knew about Aphrael’s need for symmetry, but this went too far.
Kurik set Aphrael down on her feet, and when he straightened, he looked Sparhawk full in the face. Sparhawk’s squire was unchanged. His features were rugged, and his black beard, touched with silver, was as coarse as ever. His bare shoulders were bulky, and his wrists were enclosed in steel cuffs. Without so much as changing expression, he winked at his lord.
‘Very well, then,’ Flute said to them in a crisp voice, ‘let’s get on with this before too many more of my cousins change their minds. I had to talk very fast and even throw a few tantrums to get them to agree, and many of them still have grave doubts about the whole notion.’
‘You don’t have to explain things to them, Flute,’ Kurik told her in that gruff voice of his, a voice so familiar that Sparhawk’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘Just tell them what to do. They’re Church Knights, after all, so they’re used to following orders they don’t understand.’
She laughed delightedly. ‘How very wise you are, Kurik. All right, then, gentlemen, come with me.’ She led them past the gnarled tree to the brink of the awful precipice. Even though they were very high above it, the roaring of the surf was much like heavy thunder.
‘All right,’ Aphrael told them, ‘I’m going to need your help with this.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ Tynian asked her.
‘Stand there and approve.’
‘Do what?’
‘Just approve of me, Tynian. You can cheer if you like, but it’s not really necessary. All I really need is approval – and love, of course – but there’s nothing unusual about that. I always need love.’ She smiled at them mysteriously.
Then she stepped off the edge of the cliff.
Talen gave a startled cry and plunged after her.
The Child Goddess, as unconcerned as if she were only taking a morning stroll, walked out across the empty air. Talen, however, fell like a stone.
‘Oh, bother!’ Aphrael exclaimed peevishly. She made a curious gesture with one hand, and Talen stopped falling. He sprawled in mid-air, his limbs straddled, his face pasty-white, and his eyes bulging with horror. ‘Would you take care of that, Sephrenia?’ the little girl said. ‘I’m busy right now.’ Then she glared down at Talen. ‘You and I are going to have a talk about this, young man,’ she said ominously. Then she turned and continued to walk out toward the open sea.
Sephrenia murmured in Styric, her fingers weaving the spell, and Talen rose with a curious fluttering movement, flaring from side to side like a kite on a taut string as Sephrenia pulled against the force of the gravity that was trying to dash him to the rocks below. When he had reached the edge of the cliff again, he scrambled across the wind-tossed grass on his hands and knees for several yards and then collapsed, shuddering violently.
Aphrael, all unconcerned, continued her stroll across the emptiness.
‘You’re getting fat, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said critically. ‘You need more exercise.’
Sparhawk swallowed very hard. ‘Do you want to talk about this?’ he asked his old friend in a choked voice.
‘No, not really. You’re supposed to be paying attention to Aphrael right now.’ He looked out at the Child Goddess with a faint smile. ‘She’s showing off, but she’s only a little girl, after all, so I guess it’s sort of natural.’ He paused, and a note of yearning came into his voice. ‘How’s Aslade been lately?’
‘She was fine the last time I saw her. She and Elys are both living on your farm, you know.’
Kurik gave him a startled look.
‘Aslade thought it would be best. Your sons are all in training now, and she didn’t think it made much sense for her and Elys both to be alone. They adore each other.’
‘That’s fine, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said, almost in wonder. ‘That’s really fine. I always sort of worried about what was going to happen to them after I left.’ He looked out at the Child Goddess. ‘Pay close attention to her now, my Lord. She’s coming to the hard part.’
Aphrael was far out over the surging waves, and she had begun to glow with a brilliant incandescence. She stopped, hardly more than a glowing spark in the distance.
‘Help her, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia commanded. ‘Send all of your love to her. She needs you now.’
The fiery spark rose in a graceful little arc and then shot smoothly down through the murky air toward the long, lead-gray waves rolling ponderously toward the rocky shore. Down and down she plunged, and then she cut into the sea with no hint of a splash.
Sparhawk held his breath. It seemed that the Child Goddess stayed down for an eternity. Black spots began to appear before the big Pandion’s eyes.
‘Breathe, Sparhawk!’ Kurik barked, bashing his lord’s shoulder with his fist. ‘You won’t do her much good if you faint.’
Sparhawk blew out his breath explosively and stood gasping on the brink of the precipice.
‘Idiot,’ Kurik muttered.
‘Sorry,’ Sparhawk apologized. He concentrated on the little girl, and his thoughts became strongly jumbled. Aphrael was out there beneath those endlessly rolling waves certainly, but Flute was there as well – and Danae. That thought caught at his heart, and he felt suddenly icy-cold.
Then that glowing spark burst up out of the sullen water. The Child Goddess had been an incandescent white when she had made her plunge, but when she emerged from the sea she glowed a brilliant blue. She was not alone as she rose once more into the air. Bhelliom rose with her, and the very earth seemed to shudder with its re-emergence.
All glowing blue, Aphrael returned to them, bearing that same golden box Sparhawk had cast into the sea a half-dozen years ago. The little girl continued her stroll and reached solid ground once more. She went directly to Sparhawk and held up the gleaming golden box. ‘Into thy hands, for good or for ill, I deliver up the Bhelliom once more, Anakha,’ she intoned quite formally, placing the box in his hands. Then she smiled an impish little smile. ‘Try not to lose it again this time,’ she added.
Chapter 6
‘He looked well,’ Khalad said in a tight, controlled voice.
‘Aren’t you being just a little blase about all this?’ Talen asked his brother.
‘Did you want me to go into hysterics?’
‘You saw him, then?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Where were you? I couldn’t see you around any place.’
‘Lord Vanion and I were right over there,’ Khalad replied, pointing toward the far side of the trail. ‘We were told to just keep quiet and watch. We saw you all come riding up the hill. Why did you jump off the cliff like that?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Sparhawk was not really paying very much attention to the others. He stood holding the golden box in his hands. He could feel the Bhelliom inside and, as always, it was neither friendly nor hostile.
Flute was watching him closely. ‘Aren’t you going to open the box, Anakha?’
‘Why? I don’t need Bhelliom just now, do I?’
‘Don’t you want to see it again?’
‘I know what it looks like.’
‘Isn’t it calling to you?’
‘Yes, but I’m not listening. It always seems to complicate things when I let it out, so let’s not do that until I really need it.’ He turned the box over in his hands, closely examining it. Kurik’s work had been meticulous, though the box was unadorned. It was just that – a box. The fact that it was made of gold was largely irrelevant. ‘How do I open this? – when I need to, I mean? There isn’t any keyhole.’
‘Just touch the lid with one of the rings.’ She was watching him very closely.