‘Are you sure you’re not part Troll, Ulath?’ Kalten asked.
‘Even Trolls and Ogres can have good ideas once in a while. A cave’s got a roof in case the weather turns sour, and nobody can come at you from behind. This one’s a good cave, and it’s been used before. Somebody spent quite a bit of time building a wall around that spring in there so that there’s plenty of water.’
‘What if he comes back and wants his cave again?’
‘I don’t think he’ll do that, Kalten.’ The big Thalesian held up a beautifully crafted flint spearhead. ‘He left this behind when he moved out. I’d say that he’d probably be too old to give us much to worry about – fifteen or twenty thousand years too old, at least.’ He touched a careful thumb to the serrated edge of the spearpoint. ‘He did very nice work, though. He drew pictures on the wall, too – animals, mostly.’
Kalten shuddered. ‘Wouldn’t it be sort of like taking up residence in a tomb?’
‘Not really. Time’s all one piece, Kalten. The past is always with us. The cave served the fellow who made this spearpoint very well, and the work he left behind inclines me to trust his judgement. The place has everything we need – shelter, water, plenty of firewood nearby, and then there’s that steep meadow a hundred yards off to the south, so there’s plenty of forage for the horses.’
‘What are we going to eat, though? After a couple of weeks when our supplies run out, we’ll be trying to boil rocks down for soup-stock.’
‘There’s game about, Sir Kalten,’ Khalad told him. ‘I’ve seen deer down by the river and a flock of feral goats higher up the slope.’
‘Goat?’ Kalten made a face.
‘It’s better than rock soup, isn’t it?’
‘Sir Ulath is right, gentlemen,’ Bevier told them. ‘The cave’s in a defensible position. So far as we know, the Delphae have to get close enough to touch us in order to do us any harm. Some breastworks and a wellplanted field of sharpened stakes on that steep slope leading down to the river will keep them at arm’s length. If Ambassador Itagne is right and the Delphae are pressed for time, that should encourage them to come to the bargaining table.’
‘Let’s do it,’ Vanion decided. ‘And let’s get right at it. The Delphae seem to come out at night, so we’ll want some defenses in place before the sun goes down.’
The overcast which had turned the sky into an oppressive leaden bowl for the past week was gone the following morning, and the autumn sunlight touching the turning leaves of the grove of aspens across the gorge from their cave filled the day with a vibrant, golden light. Everything seemed etched with a kind of preternatural clarity. The boulders in the stream-bed below were starkly white, and the swift-moving river was a dark, sun-illuminated green. The gorge was alive with bird song and the chatter of scolding squirrels.
The knights continued the labor of fortification, erecting a substantial, chest-high wall of loosely piled stones around the edge of the semi-circular shelf that extended out from the mouth of the cave, and planting a forest of sharpened stakes on the steep slope that led down to the river.
They pastured their horses in the adjoining meadow by day and brought them inside the makeshift fort as the sun went down. They bathed and washed their clothing in the river, and hunted deer and goats in the forest. They took turns standing watch at night, but there was no sign of the Delphae.
They stayed there for four nights, growing more restless with each passing hour. ‘If this is how the Delphae respond to something urgent, I’d hate to sit around waiting for them when they were relaxed,’ Talen said dryly to Itagne on the morning of the fourth day. ‘They don’t even have anybody out there watching us.’
‘They’re out there, Master Talen,’ Itagne replied confidently.
‘Why haven’t we seen them, then? They’d be fairly hard to miss at night.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Kalten disagreed. ‘I don’t think they glow all the time. We saw them shining out there in that fog the first time they came to call, but the second time they crept up to within twenty yards of us before they lit up. They seem to be able to control the light, depending on the circumstances.’
‘They’re out there,’ Itagne repeated, ‘and the longer they wait, the better.’
‘I didn’t follow that,’ Talen confessed.
‘They know by now that we’re not going to move from this spot, so they’re out there right now arguing among themselves about what they’re going to offer us. Some of them want to offer more than the others, and the longer we sit right here, the more we strengthen the position of that faction.’
‘Have you suddenly become clairvoyant, Itagne?’ Sephrenia asked him.
‘No, Lady Sephrenia, just experienced. This delay is fairly standard in any negotiation. I’m on familiar ground now. We’ve chosen the right strategy.’
‘What else should we be doing?’ Kalten asked.
‘Nothing, Sir Knight. It’s their move.’
She came from the river in broad daylight, climbing easily up the rocky path that ascended the steep slope. She wore a gray, hooded robe and simple sandals. Her features were Tamul, but she did not have the characteristic golden skin-tone of her race. She was not so much pale as she was colorless. Her eyes were gray and seemed very wise, and her hair was long and completely white, though she appeared to be scarcely more than a girl.
Sparhawk and the others watched her as she came up the hill in the golden sunlight. She crossed the steep meadow where the horses grazed. Ch’iel, Sephrenia’s gentle white palfrey, approached the colorless woman curiously, and the stranger gently touched the mare’s face with one slim hand.
‘That’s probably far enough,’ Vanion called to her. ‘What is it that you want?’
‘I am Xanetia,’ the young woman replied. Her voice was soft, but there was a kind of echoing timbre to it that immediately identified her as one of the Delphae. ‘I am to be thy surety, Lord Vanion.’
‘You know me?’
‘We know thee, Lord Vanion – and each of thy companions. Ye are reluctant to come to Delphaeus, fearing that we mean ye harm. My life will serve as pledge of our good faith.’
‘Don’t listen, Vanion,’ Sephrenia said, her eyes hard.
‘Art thou afeared, Priestess?’ Xanetia asked calmly. Thy Goddess doth not share thy fear. Now do I perceive that it is thy hatred which doth obstruct that which must come to pass, and thus it shall be into thy hands that I shall place my life – to do with as thou wilt. If thou must needs kill me to quench this hatred of thine, then so be it.’
Sephrenia’s face went deathly pale. ‘You know I wouldn’t do that, Xanetia.’
‘Then put the implement of death into the hands of another. Thus thou mayest command my dying and put no stain of blood upon thine own hands. Is this not the custom of thy race, Styric? Thou shalt remain undefiled – even as this thirst of thine is slaked. All unsmirched mayest thou face thy Goddess and protest thine innocence, for thou shalt be blameless. My blood shall be upon the hands of thine Elenes, and Elene souls are cheap, are they not?’ She reached inside her robe and drew out a jewel-like stone dagger. ‘Here is the implement of my death, Sephrenia,’ she said. ‘The blade is obsidian, so thou shalt not contaminate thy hands – or thy soul – with the loathsome touch of steel when thou spillest out my life.’ Xanetia’s voice was soft, but her words cut into Sephrenia like hard, sharp steel.
‘I won’t listen to this!’ the small Styric woman declared hotly.
Xanetia smiled. ‘Ah, but thou wilt, Sephrenia,’ she said, still very calm. ‘I know thee well, Styric, and I know that my words have burned themselves into thy soul. Thou wilt hear them again and again. In the silence of the night shall they come to thee, burning deeper each time. Truly shalt thou listen, for my words are the words of truth, and they shall echo in thy soul all the days of thy life.’
Sephrenia’s face twisted in anguish, and with a sudden wail she fled back into the cave.
Itagne’s face was troubled as he came back along the narrow path from the meadow to the open area in front of the cave. ‘She’s very convincing,’ he told them. ‘I get no sense of deceit from her at all.’
‘She probably doesn’t know enough about the real motives of the leaders of her people to have anything to hide,’ Bevier said doubtfully. ‘She could very well be nothing more than a pawn.’
‘She is one of the leaders of her people, Sir Bevier,’ Itagne disagreed. ‘She’s the equivalent of the crown princess of the Delphae. She’s the one who’ll be Anarae when the Anari dies.’
‘Is that a name or a title?’ Ulath asked.
‘It’s a title. The Anari – or in Xanetia’s case, the Anarae – is both the temporal and spiritual leader of the Delphae. The current Anari is named Cedon.’
‘She’s not just making it up?’ Talen asked. ‘She could be just pretending to be their crown princess, you know. That way, we’d think she was important, when she’s actually nothing more than a shepherdess or somebody’s housemaid.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Itagne said. ‘It may sound immodest, but I don’t really believe anyone can lie to me for very long and get away with it. She says that she’s the one who’ll be Anarae, and I believe her. The move’s consistent with standard diplomatic practice. Hostages have to be important. It’s another indication of just how desperate the Delphae are in this business. I think Xanetia’s telling the truth, and if she is, she’s the most precious thing they possess.’ He made a wry face. ‘It definitely goes against everything I’ve been trained to believe about the Shining Ones since childhood, but I think we almost have to trust them this time.’
Sparhawk and Vanion looked at each other. ‘What do you think?’ Vanion asked.
‘I don’t see that we’ve got much choice, do you?’
‘Not really. Ulath was right. We can’t sit here all winter, and no matter which way we turn, we keep going toward Delphaeus. The fact that Xanetia’s here is some assurance of good faith.’
‘Is it enough, though?’
‘It’s probably going to have to be, Sparhawk. I don’t think we’re going to get anything better.’
‘Kalten!’ Sephrenia exclaimed. ‘No!’
‘Somebody has to do it,’ the blond knight replied stubbornly. ‘Good faith has to go both ways.’ He looked Xanetia full in the face. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me before I help you up onto that horse?’ he asked her. ‘Some warning, maybe?’
‘Thou art brave, Sir Kalten,’ she replied.
‘It’s what they pay me for.’ He shrugged. ‘Will I dissolve if I touch you?’
‘No.’
‘All right. You’ve never ridden a horse before, have you?’
‘We do not keep horses. We seldom leave our valley, so we have little need of them.’
‘They’re fairly nice animals. Be a little careful of the one Sparhawk rides, though. He bites. Now, this horse is a pack animal. He’s fairly old and sensible, so he won’t waste energy jumping around and being silly. Don’t worry too much about the reins. He’s used to following along after the others, so you don’t have to steer him. If you want him to go faster, nudge him in the ribs with your heels. If you want him to slow down, pull back on the reins a little bit. If you want him to stop, pull back a little harder. That pack saddle’s not going to be very comfortable, so let us know if you start getting stiff and sore. We’ll stop and get off and walk for a while. You’ll get used to it after a few days – if we’ve got that far to travel.’
She held out her hands, crossed at the wrist. ‘Wilt thou bind me now, Sir Knight?’
‘What for?’
‘I am thy prisoner.’
‘Don’t be silly. You won’t be able to hold on if your hands are tied.’ He set his jaw, reached out and took her by the waist. Then he lifted her easily up onto the patient pack horse. Then he held out his hands and looked at them. ‘So far so good,’ he said. ‘At least my fingernails haven’t fallen off. I’ll be right beside you, so if you feel yourself starting to slip, let me know.’
‘We always underestimate him,’ Vanion murmured to Sparhawk. ‘There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye, isn’t there?’
‘Kalten? Oh yes, my Lord. Kalten can be very complicated sometimes.’
They rode away from their fortified cave and followed the gorge the river had cut down through the rock. Sparhawk and Vanion led the way with Kalten and their hostage riding close behind them. Sephrenia, her face coldly set, rode at the rear with Berit, keeping as much distance as possible between herself and Xanetia.
‘Is it very far?’ Kalten asked the pale woman at his side. ‘I mean, how many days will it take us to get there?’
‘The distance is indeterminate, Sir Kalten,’ Xanetia replied, ‘and the time as well. The Delphae are outcast and despised. We would be unwise to make the location of the valley of Delphaeus widely known.’
‘We’re used to traveling, Lady,’ Kalten told her, ‘and we always pay attention to landmarks. If you take us to Delphaeus, we’ll be able to find it again. All we’d have to do is find that cave and start from there.’
‘That is the flaw in thy plan, Sir Knight,’ she said gently. ‘Thou couldst consume a lifetime in the search for that cave. It is our wont to conceal the approaches to Delphaeus rather than Delphaeus itself.’
‘It’s a little hard to conceal a whole mountain range, isn’t it?’
‘We noted that self-same thing ourselves, Sir Kalten,’ she replied without so much as a smile, ‘so we conceal the sky instead. Without the sun to guide thee, thou art truly lost.’
‘Could you do that, Sparhawk?’ Kalten raised his voice slightly. ‘Could you make the whole sky overcast like that?’
‘Could we?’ Sparhawk asked Vanion.
‘I couldn’t. Maybe Sephrenia could, but under the circumstances it might not be a good idea to ask her. I know enough to know that it’s against the rules, though. We’re not supposed to play around with the weather.’