‘Those people last night did glow, your Excellency,’ Kalten reminded him.
‘Yes, and I’m trying very hard to forget about that.’ Itagne looked back over his shoulder. Sephrenia had refused even to listen to a discussion of the Delphae, and she and Berit followed them at some distance. ‘Lady Sephrenia’s reaction to the Delphae isn’t really uncommon among Styrics, you know. The very name makes them irrational. Anyway, “Xadane” enjoyed enormous popularity, and there were the usual imitators. A whole body of literature grew up around the Delphae. It’s called, quite naturally, “Delphaeic literature”. Serious people don’t take it seriously, and foolish people take it foolishly. You know how that goes.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Bevier murmured. ‘I had to read whole libraries full of abominable verse when I was a student. Every professor had his favorite poet, and they all inflicted them on us without mercy. I think that’s what ultimately led me to take up a military career.’
Khalad came riding back to join them. ‘I wouldn’t want to seem critical of my betters, my Lords,’ he said dryly, ‘but the decision to abandon the road and cut across country may have been just a little ill-advised on a day when we can’t see the sun. Does anyone know which way we’re going?’
‘East,’ Vanion said firmly.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Khalad replied. ‘If you say it’s east, then it’s east – even if it really isn’t. Aren’t we supposed to be getting fairly close to the border?’
‘It shouldn’t be very far ahead.’
‘Doesn’t your map indicate that the River Sarna marks the boundary between Cynesga and Tamul proper?’
Vanion nodded.
‘Well, I just rode to the top of that hill on up ahead and took a look around. I could see for about ten leagues in every direction, and there aren’t any rivers out there. Do you suppose that someone might have stolen the Sarna?’
‘Be nice,’ Sparhawk murmured.
‘Cartography’s not an exact art, Khalad,’ Vanion pointed out. ‘The distances on any map are only approximate. We started out at dawn, and we rode toward the lightest place in the cloud-cover. Unless somebody’s changed things, that’s east. We’ve taken sightings on landmarks every hour or so, and we’re still riding in the same direction we were when we set out this morning.’
‘Where’s the river, then, my Lord?’ Khalad looked at Itagne. ‘How wide would you say the valley of the Sarna is, your Excellency?’
‘Sixty leagues, anyway. It’s the longest and widest river on the continent, and the valley’s very fertile.’
‘Grass? Trees? Lots of green crops?’
Itagne nodded.
‘There’s not a hint of green in any direction, my Lords,’ Khalad declared. ‘It’s all a brown wasteland.’
‘We’re riding east,’ Vanion insisted. ‘The mountains of Atan should be to the north – off to the left.’
‘They could be, my Lord, but they’re a little bashful today. They’re hiding themselves in the clouds.’
‘I’ve told you, Khalad, the map’s inaccurate, that’s all.’ Vanion looked back over his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you ride back and ask Sephrenia and Berit to join us? It’s about lunch-time, isn’t it, Kalten?’
‘Definitely, my Lord.’
‘I sort of thought so myself. Let’s dig into the packs and put together something to eat.’
‘Is Sir Kalten skilled at estimating the time?’ Itagne asked Sparhawk.
Sparhawk smiled. ‘We normally rely on Khalad – when the sun’s out. When it’s cloudy, though, we fall back on Kalten’s stomach. He can usually tell you to within a minute how long it’s been since the last time he ate.’
Late that afternoon, when they had stopped for the night, Khalad stood a short distance from where the rest of them were setting up their encampment. He was looking out over the featureless desert with a slightly smug expression on his face. ‘Sparhawk,’ he called, ‘could you come here a moment? I want to show you something.’
Sparhawk put down Faran’s saddle and walked over to join his squire. ‘Yes?’ he asked.
‘I think you’d better talk with Lord Vanion. He probably won’t listen to me, since he’s already got his mind made up, but somebody’s going to have to convince him that we haven’t been riding east today.’
‘You’re going to have to convince me first.’
‘All right.’ The husky young man pointed out across the desert. ‘We came from that direction, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘If we’ve been riding east, that would be west, right?’
‘You’re being obvious.’
‘Yes, I know. I have to be. I’m trying to explain something to a knight. The last time I looked, the sun went down in the west.’
‘Please, Khalad, don’t try to be clever. Just get to the point.’
‘Yes, my Lord. If that’s west, then why’s the sun going down over there?’ He turned and pointed off toward the left, where an angry orange glow stained the clouds.
Sparhawk blinked, and then he muttered an oath. ‘Let’s go talk to Vanion,’ he said, and led the way back across the camp to where the Pandion Preceptor was speaking with Sephrenia.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘We made a wrong turn somewhere today.’
‘Are you still riding that tired horse, Khalad?’ Vanion’s tone was irritable. His conversation with Sephrenia had obviously not been going well.
‘Our young friend here just pointed something out to me,’ Sparhawk said, ‘…speaking slowly, of course, because of my limited understanding. He says that unless somebody’s moved the sun, we’ve been riding north all day.’
‘That’s impossible.’
Sparhawk turned and pointed toward the ugly orange glow on the horizon. ‘That’s not the direction we came from, Vanion.’
Vanion stared at the horizon for a moment, and then he started to swear.
‘You wouldn’t listen to me, would you?’ Sephrenia accused. ‘Now will you believe me when I tell you that the Delphae will deceive you at every turn?’
‘It was our own mistake, Sephrenia – well, mine, anyway. We can’t just automatically blame the Delphae for everything that goes wrong.’
‘I’ve known you since you were a boy, Vanion, and you’ve never made this kind of mistake before. I’ve seen you find your way on a dark night in the middle of a snowstorm.’
‘I must have confused a couple of landmarks and taken my bearings on the wrong one.’ Vanion grimaced. ‘Thanks for being so polite about it, Khalad – and so patient. We could have ridden on until we ran into the polar ice. I tend to get pig-headed sometimes.’
Sephrenia smiled fondly at him. ‘I much prefer to speak of your singleness of purpose, dear one,’ she told him.
‘It means the same thing, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it sounds nicer.’
‘Set out some markers, Khalad,’ Vanion instructed. He looked around. There aren’t any sticks lying around, so pile up heaps of rock and mark them with scraps of colored cloth. Let’s get an absolute reference on the position of the sun this evening so that we don’t make the same mistake again tomorrow morning.’
‘I’ll take care of it, my Lord.’
‘They’re back,’ Kalten said, roughly shaking Sparhawk awake.
‘Who’s back?’ Sparhawk sat up.
‘Your glowing friends. They want to talk with you again.’
Sparhawk rose to his feet and followed his friend to the edge of the camp.
‘I was standing watch,’ Kalten said quietly, ‘and they just appeared out of nowhere. Itagne’s stories are entertaining enough, but I don’t think they’re all that accurate. The Shining Ones don’t shine all the time. They crept up on me in the dark, and they didn’t start to glow until they were in place.’
‘Are they still staying back a ways?’
Kalten nodded. ‘They’re keeping their distance. There’s no way we could rush them.’
There was no fog this time, and there were only two of the Shining Ones standing about twenty yards from the picketed horses. The eerie glow emanating from them still blurred their features, however.
‘Thy peril increases, Anakha,’ that same hollow, echoing voice declared. ‘Thine enemies are seeking thee up and down in the land.’
‘We haven’t seen anyone, neighbor.’
‘It is the unseen enemy which is most perilous. It is with their minds that thine enemies seek thee. We urge thee to accept our offer of sanctuary. It may soon be too late.’
‘I wouldn’t offend you for the world, neighbor, but we’ve only got your word for this unseen danger, and I think you may be exaggerating a bit. You said that Bhelliom’s directing my steps, and Bhelliom has unlimited power. I’ve tested that myself a few times. Thanks for your concern, but I still think I can take care of myself and my friends.’ He paused a moment and then plunged ahead on an impulse. ‘Why don’t we just cut across all this polite chit-chat? You’ve already admitted to a certain self-interest here. Why don’t you come right out and tell me what you want and what you’re prepared to offer in exchange? That might give us a basis for negotiation.’
‘Your charm’s positively blinding, Sparhawk,’ Kalten muttered.
‘We will consider thy proposal, Anakha.’ The echoing voice was cold.
‘Do that. Oh, one other thing, neighbor. Stop tampering with our direction. Deceit and trickery at the outset always seem to get negotiations off on the wrong foot.’
The glowing Delphae did not respond, but receded back into the desert and slipped out of sight.
‘Then you do believe me, don’t you, Sparhawk?’ Sephrenia said from just behind the two knights. ‘You realize how unprincipled and dishonest those creatures are.’
‘Let’s just say that I’m keeping an open mind on the subject, little mother. You were absolutely right about what you said earlier, though. We could blindfold Vanion, spin him around in circles for a day or so, and he’d still come out pointing due north.’ He looked around. ‘Is everybody awake? I think we’d better start considering options.’
They returned to the place where their beds were laid out on the hard, uncomfortable gravel. ‘You’re really very clever, Sparhawk,’ Bevier said. ‘The fact that our visitors didn’t deny that accusation you pulled out of the air suggests that Sephrenia’s been right about them all along. They have been misdirecting us.’
‘That doesn’t alter the fact that the Cyrgai are out there,’ Ulath reminded him, ‘and the Cyrgai are definitely our enemies. We may not know what the Delphae are really up to, but they ran off the Cyrgai for us last night, and that sort of inclines me to like them.’
‘Could that have been some sort of collusion?’ Berit asked.
‘That’s very unlikely,’ Itagne said. ‘The Cyrgai traditionally have a sublime belief that they’re the crown of creation. They’d never agree to any ruse that put them in a subservient position – not even for the sake of appearances. It’s just not in their racial make-up.’
‘He’s right,’ Sephrenia agreed, ‘and even though I hate to admit it, an alliance of that sort would be totally out of character for the Delphae as well. There could be no common ground between them and the Cyrgai. I don’t know what the Delphae are doing in this business, but they have their own agenda. They wouldn’t be cat’s paws for anyone else.’
‘Wonderful,’ Talen said sardonically, ‘now we’ve got two enemies to worry about.’
‘Why worry at all?’ Kalten shrugged. ‘Bhelliom can put us down on the outskirts of Matherion in the space between two heartbeats. Why don’t we just go away and leave the Cyrgai and the Delphae here in this wasteland to resolve their differences without us?’
‘No,’ Sephrenia said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because the Delphae have misdirected us already. We don’t want to go to Delphaeus.’
‘They’re not going to be able to fool the Bhelliom, Sephrenia,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘They might have been able to confuse me, but Bhelliom’s an entirely different matter.’
‘I don’t think we can take that chance, dear one. The Delphae want something from Sparhawk, and it’s obviously going to involve Bhelliom. Let’s not deliver them both into Delphaeic hands. I know that it’s tedious and dangerous, but let’s keep our feet on the ground. Bhelliom moves through a vast emptiness. If the Delphae can deceive it, we could come out of that emptiness almost any place.’
‘What’s an eclogue?’ Talen asked. They were riding toward what they hoped was the east the following morning, and Itagne was continuing his rambling discourse on Delphaeic literature.
‘It’s a sort of primitive drama,’ he replied. ‘It usually involves a meeting between two shepherds. They stand around discussing philosophy in bad verse.’
‘I’ve known a few sheep-herders,’ Khalad said, ‘and philosophy wasn’t their usual topic of conversation. They’re far more interested in women.’
‘There’s some of that involved in eclogues as well, but it’s so idealized that it’s hardly recognizable.’ Itagne tugged thoughtfully at one earlobe. ‘I think it’s some sort of disease,’ he mused. ‘The more civilized people become, the more they romanticize the simple bucolic life and ignore the dirt and grinding toil involved. Our sillier poets grow all weepy-eyed about shepherds – and shepherdesses, of course. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without the shepherdesses. The aristocracy periodically becomes enamored of the pastoral tradition, and they go to great lengths to act out their fantasies. Emperor Sarabian’s father even went so far as to have an idealized sheep-farm built down near Saranth. He and his court used to go there in the summer-time and spend months pretending to watch over flocks of badly over-fed sheep. Their rude smocks and kirtles were made of velvet and satin, and they’d sit around all moony-eyed composing bad verse and ignoring the fact that their sheep were wandering off in all directions.’ He leaned back in his saddle. ‘Pastoral literature doesn’t really hurt anything. It’s silly and grossly oversentimental, and the poets who become addicted to it tend to be a bit heavy-handed when they ladle on the moral lessons. That’s always been the problem with literature – finding a justification for it. It really doesn’t serve any practical purpose, you know.’