CHAPTER 9

The town of Beresa on the southeastern Arjuni coast was a low, unlovely place squatting toadlike on the beach lying between the South Tamul Sea and the swampy green jungle behind it. The major industry of the region was the production of charcoal, and acrid smoke hung in the humid air over Beresa like a curse. Captain Sorgi dropped his anchor some distance out from the wharves and went ashore to consult with the harbor master. Sparhawk, Stragen, and Talen, wearing their canvas smocks, leaned on the port rail staring across the smelly water toward their destination.

‘I have an absolutely splendid idea, From,’ Stragen said to Sparhawk.

‘Oh?’ Sparhawk replied.

‘Why don’t we jump ship?’

‘Nice try, Vymer,’ Talen laughed. They were all more or less at ease with the assumed names by now.

Sparhawk looked around carefully to make sure that none of the rest of the crew was near.

‘An ordinary sailor wouldn’t leave without collecting his pay. Let’s not do anything to attract attention.

All that’s really left to do is the unloading of the cargo.’

‘Under the threat of the bo’sun’s whip,’ Stragen added glumly.

‘That man really tests my self-control. just the sight of him makes me want to kill him.’

‘We can endure him this one last time,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘This town’s going to be full of unfriendly eyes. Krager’s note told me to come here, and he’ll have people here to make sure I’m not trying to sneak in reinforcements behind his back.

‘That might just be the flaw in this whole plan, From,’ Stragen said. ‘Sorgi knows that we’re not ordinary sailors. Is he the kind to let things slip?’ Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Sorgi knows how to keep his mouth shut. He was paid to get us to Beresa unnoticed, and Sorgi always does what he’s paid to do.’

The captain returned late that afternoon, and they raised anchor and eased up to one of the long wharves protruding out into the harbor. They unloaded the cargo the next morning. The bo’sun cracked his whip only sparingly, and the unloading proceeded rapidly. Then, when the cargo holds were all emptied, the sailors lined up and filed along the quarterdeck where Sorgi sat at a small table with his account book and his stacks of coins. The captain gave each sailor a little speech as he paid him. The speeches varied slightly, but the general message was the same: ‘Stay out of trouble, and get back to the ship on time. I won’t wait for you when the time comes to sail.’ He did not alter the speech when he paid Sparhawk and his friends, and his face did not in any way betray the fact they were anything other than ordinary crew members. Sparhawk and his two friends went down the gangway with their seabags on their shoulders and with a certain amount of anticipation.

‘Now I see why sailors are so rowdy when they reach port,’ Sparhawk said. ‘That wasn’t really much of a voyage, and I still feel a powerful urge to kick over the traces.’

‘Where to?’ Talen asked when they reached the street.

‘There’s an inn called the Seaman’s Rest,’ Stragen replied. ‘It’s supposed to be a clean, quiet place out

beyond the main battle zone here along the waterfront. It should give us a base of operations to work from.’

The sun was just going down as they passed through the noisy, reeking streets of Beresa. The buildings were constructed for the most part of squared-off logs, since stone was rare here on the vast, soggy delta of the Arjun River, and the logs appeared to have been attacked by damp rot almost before they were in place. Moss and fungus grew everywhere, and the air was thick with the chill damp and the acrid wood smoke from the charcoal yards outside of town. The Arjunis in the streets were noticeably more swarthy than their Tamul cousins of the north, their eyes were shifty, and even their most casual gait through the muddy streets of their unlovely town seemed somehow furtive. Sparhawk muttered the spell under his breath as they passed along the shabby street, and he released it carefully to avoid alerting the watchers he was sure were there.

‘Well?’ Talen asked. Talen had been around Sparhawk long enough to know the signs that the big Pandion was using magic.

‘They’re out there,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Three of them that I can pick up.’

‘Are they concentrating on us?’ Stragen asked tensely.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Their attention’s sort of generalized. They aren’t Styrics, so they won’t know I’ve gone looking for them. Let’s just move along. If they start to follow us, I’ll let you know.’

The Seaman’s Rest was a square, tidy inn festooned with fish nets and other nautical decorations. It was run by a burly retired sea captain and his equally burly wife. They brooked no nonsense under their roof and they recited a long list of house rules to each prospective tenant before they would accept his money.

Sparhawk had not even heard of some of the things that were prohibited.

‘Where to now?’ Talen asked after they had stowed their seabags in their room and come back out into the muddy street.

‘Back to the waterfront,’ Stragen replied. ‘The chief of the local thieves is a man named Estokin. He deals extensively with smugglers and with sailors who pilfer things from cargo holds. I’ve got a letter from Caalador. Ostensibly, we’re here to make sure that he got his money’s worth during the Harvest Festival.

Arjunis aren’t generally trusted, so Estokin won’t be too surprised to see us.’

Estokin the Arjuni was a man who had clearly been destined for a life of crime from the day he was born.

He had what was perhaps the most evil face Sparhawk had ever seen. His left eye peered perpetually off in a northeasterly direction, and he had a pronounced squint. His beard was sparse and straggly, and his skin was blotched with a scaly disease. He scratched at his face almost continually, showering white flakes like a winter sky. His high-pitched, nasal voice was very much like the whine of a hungry mosquito, and he reeked of garlic, cheap wine and pickled herring.

‘Is Caalador accusing me of cheating him, Vymer?’ he demanded with some show of indignation.

‘Of course not.’ Stragen leaned back in the rickety chair in the back room of the smelly waterfront dive.

‘If he thought you’d done that, you’d already be dead. He wants to know if we missed anybody, that’s all.

Were any local people particularly upset when the bodies started to turn up?’

Estokin squinted at Stragen with his good eye. ‘What’s it worth to him?’ he haggled.

‘We’ve been instructed to let you live if you cooperate,’ Stragen countered in a cool voice.

‘You can’t threaten me like that, Vymer,’ Estokin blustered.

‘I wasn’t threatening you, old boy. I was just letting you know how things stand. Let’s get to the point here. Who got excited here in Beresa after the killings?’

‘Not very many, really.’ Stragen’s chilly manner had evidently persuaded Estokin to behave himself.

‘There was a Styric here who was fairly free with his money before the Harvest Festival.’

‘What was he buying?’

‘Information, mostly. He was on the list Caalador gave me, but he managed to get away - rode off into the jungle. I’ve got a couple of local cut-throats on his trail.’

‘I’d sort of like to talk with him before they put him to sleep.’

‘Not much chance, Vymer. They’re a long way out in the bush by now.’ Estokin scratched at his forehead, stirring up another snow flurry. ‘I’m not sure why Caalador wanted all those people killed,’ he said, ‘and I don’t really want to know, but I’m getting a whiff or two of politics, and here in Arjuna that

means Scarpa. You might want to warn Caalador to be very careful. I’ve talked with a few deserters from that rebel army in the jungle. We’ve all heard stories about how crazy Scarpa is, but let me tell you, my friend, the stories don’t even come close. If only half of what I’ve heard is true, Scarpa’s the craziest man who ever lived.’

Sparhawk’s stomach gave a lurch, and then it settled into a cold knot.

‘Father?’

Sparhawk sat up in bed quickly.

‘Are you awake?’ the Child Goddess asked, her voice roaring in his mind.

‘Of course. Please lower your voice a bit. You’re jarring my teeth.’

‘I wanted to be sure I had your attention. Some things have happened. Berit and Khalad got some new instructions from Krager. They’re supposed to go to Sepal now instead of coming here to Beresa.’

Sparhawk swore. ‘Please don’t use that kind of language, Father. I am just a little girl, you know.’

He ignored that. ‘Is the trade going to take place in Sepal?’

‘It’s hard to say. Bevier’s been in touch with me too. Kalten talked with an outlaw who’s been selling beer to the soldiers in Natayos, and he says that Scarpa’s gone back there. Then the outlaw told Kalten that Scarpa had two Elene women with Him when he returned.’

Sparhawk’s heart leaped. ‘Was he sure?’

‘Kalten thinks so. The fellow didn’t have any reason to lie about it. Of course, Kalten’s beer merchant didn’t actually see them for himself, so don’t get your hopes up too much. It could be a very carefully planted story. Zalasta’s in Natayos, and he could be trying to lure you there or trying to trick you into giving away any secrets you might have tucked up your sleeve. He knows you well enough to know that you’ll try to do something he doesn’t expect.’

‘Is there any way you could find out for sure if your mother’s in Natayos?’

‘I’m afraid not. I could slip around Scarpa easily enough, but Zalasta would sense me immediately. It’s too risky.’

‘What else is going on?’

‘Ulath and Tynian have reached the Troll-Gods. Ghnomb’s going to take them to Sepal in that frozen time he’s so fond of, and they’ll be there when Berit and Khalad arrive. Ghnomb knows another way to play around with time, so he’s going to skip Ulath and Tynian from moment to moment. It’s a little complicated, but they’ll be there and watching and nobody will be able to see them. If Scarpa and Zalasta try to make the trade in Sepal, Tynian and Ulath will be right on top of them to rescue Mother and Alcan.’

‘Zalasta can follow them into that frozen moment, you know.’

‘That wouldn’t really pay him, Father. Khwaj was outraged when he heard about Mother, so he’s going to be lurking in no time. If Zalasta tries to follow Ulath and Tynian, Khwaj will set him on fire - and the fire won’t ever go out.’

‘I could learn to grow fond of Khwaj.’

‘Sephrenia and Xanetia are in Delphaeus,’ Aphrael continued. ‘Edaemus is being tiresome, but the news about Klael shook his tree, so I’ll probably be able to coax him down out of the branches. He knows that Mother’s captivity puts the arrangement you have with Codon at risk, so he’s agreed to help us rescue her. I’ll keep working on him. If I can push him just a little further, he might agree to let the Delphae come out of their valley. They could be enormously helpful to us.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about all of this earlier?’

‘What would you have done if I had, Sparhawk? Jumped over the side of Sorgi’s ship and swum ashore?’

‘I need to know these things when they happen, Aphrael.’

‘Why? Let me take care of the fretting and worrying, Sparhawk. All it does is make you foul-tempered.’

He let that pass. ‘I’ll tell this to Bhelliom.’

‘Absolutely not! We don’t dare open that box. Cyrgon or Klael will feel Bhelliom instantly if we do.’

‘Didn’t you know?’ he asked her mildly. ‘I don’t have to open the box to speak with Bhelliom. We can talk with each other right through the gold.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘What would you have done if I had? Jumped into the sea and come swimming after Sorgi’s ship?’

There was a long moment of silence. ‘You really enjoy turning my own words around and throwing them back in my teeth like that, don’t you, Sparhawk?’

‘Naturally. Was there anything else you’d like to share with me, Divine One?’ But the sense of her presence was gone, leaving only a slightly huffy silence behind.

‘Where’s - ah - Vymer?’ Sparhawk asked Talen as the boy entered the room a few minutes later.

‘He’s out attending to something,’ Talen replied evasively.

‘Attending to what?’

‘He asked me not to tell you.’

‘All right. I’m asking you to ignore him - and I’m right here where I can get my hands on you.’

‘That’s a crude way to put it.’

‘Nobody’s perfect. What’s he up to?’

Talen sighed. ‘One of Estokin’s men stopped by - just after you came up to go to bed. He said that there are three Elenes in town who are letting it be known they’ll pay good money for information about any strangers who seem to be settling in for a long stay. Vymer decided to look them up.’ Talen glanced meaningfully at the walls of their small room. ‘I’d guess that he probably wants to find out just exactly what they mean by “good money”. You know Vymer when there’s some profit to be made.’

‘He should have told me,’ Sparhawk said cautiously. I’m not any more allergic to a quick profit than he is.’

‘Sharing isn’t one of Vymer’s strong points, From.’ Talen touched his ear and then laid a finger to his lips.

‘Why don’t we go out and see if we can find him?’

‘Good idea.’ Sparhawk quickly pulled on his clothes, and the two of them clattered down the stairs and out into the street.

‘I just had a religious experience,’ Sparhawk murmured as they walked into the noisy area near the docks.

‘Oh?’

‘One of those Divine visitations.’

‘Ah. What did your Divine visitor have to say?’

‘A broken-nosed friend of ours got another one of those notes. He’s been told to go to Sepal instead of coming here.’

Talen muttered a fairly vile oath.

‘My feelings exactly. Isn’t that Vymer coming up the street?’ Sparhawk pointed at a blond man in a tar-smeared smock who was lurching unsteadily toward them.

Talen peered at the fellow. ‘I think you’re right.’ He made a face. ‘The ladies who changed things around may have gone a little far. He doesn’t even walk the same any more.’

‘What are you two doing out this late?’ Stragen asked as he joined them.

‘We got lonesome,’ Sparhawk replied in a flat tone of voice.

‘For me? I’m touched. Let’s go for a walk on the beach, my friends. I find myself yearning for the smell of salt water - and the nice loud sound of waves crashing on the sand.’

They went on past the last of the wharves and then out onto the sand. The clouds had blown off, and there was a bright moon. They reached the water’s edge and stood looking out at the long combers rolling in off the south Tamul Sea to hammer noisily on the wet sand.

‘What have you been up to, Stragen?’ Sparhawk demanded bluntly.

‘Business, old boy. I just enlisted us in the intelligence service of the other side.’

‘You did what?’

‘The three you sensed when we first got here needed a few good men. I volunteered our services.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Of course not. Think about it for a while, Sparhawk. What better way is there to gather information?

Our celebration of the Harvest Festival thinned their ranks drastically, so they can’t afford to be choosy. I paid Estokin to vouch for us, and then I told them a few lies. They’re expecting a certain Sir Sparhawk to flood the town with sharp-eyed people. We’re supposed to report anybody we see who’s acting a little suspicious. I provided them with a prime suspect.’

‘Oh? Who was that?’

‘Captain Sorgi’s bo’sun - you know, the fellow with the whip.’

Sparhawk suddenly laughed. ‘That was a truly vicious thing to do, Stragen.’

‘I rather liked it, myself.’

‘Aphrael came by to call,’ Talen said. ‘She told Sparhawk that Berit and my brother have been ordered to change direction. Now they’re supposed to go to Sepal on the coast of the Sea of Arjun.’

Stragen swore.

‘I already said that,’ Talen told him.

‘We probably should have expected it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Krager’s working for the other side, and he knows us well enough to anticipate some of the things we might try to do.’ He suddenly banged his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘I wish I could talk with Sephrenia!’ he burst out.

‘You can, as I recall,’ Stragen said. ‘Didn’t Aphrael fix it once so that you and Sephrenia talked together when she was in Sarsos and you were in Cimmura?’

Sparhawk suddenly felt more than a little foolish. ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ he admitted.

‘That’s all right, old boy,’ Stragen excused him. ‘You’ve got a lot on your mind. Why don’t you have a word with her Divine little Whimsicality and see if she can arrange a council of war someplace? I think it might be time for a good, old-fashioned get-together. ’

Sparhawk knew where he was before he even opened his eyes. The fragrance of wildflowers and tree blossoms immediately identified the eternal spring of Aphrael’s own private reality.

‘Art thou now awake, Anakha?’ the white deer asked him, touching his hand with her nose.

‘Yea, gentle creature,’ he replied, opening his eyes and touching the side of her face. He was in the pavilion again and he looked out through the open flap at the flower-studded meadow, the sparkling azure sea, and the rainbow-colored sky above.

‘The others do await thy coming on the Eyot,’ the hind advised him.

‘We must hasten, then,’ he said, rising from his bed. He followed her from the pavilion out into the meadow where the white tigress indulgently watched the awkward play of her large-footed cubs. He rather idly wondered if these were the same cubs she had been tending when he had first visited this enchanted realm a half-dozen years ago.

‘Well, of course they are, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael’s voice murmured in his ear. ‘Nothing ever changes here.’

He smiled. The white deer led him to that beautiful, impractical boat, a swan-necked craft with sails like wings, elaborate embellishment and so much of its main structure above the water line that a sneeze would have capsized it, had it existed in the real world.

‘Critic,’ Aphrael’s voice accused him.

‘It’s your dream, Divine One. You can put any impossibility in it that you want.’

‘Oh, thank you, Sparhawk!’ she said with effusive irony.

The emerald green Eyot, crowned with ancient oaks and Aphrael’s alabaster temple, nestled in the sapphire sea, and the swan-necked boat touched the golden beach in only minutes. Sparhawk looked around as he stepped out onto the sand. The disguises most of them wore in the real world had been discarded, and they all had their own features here in this eternal dream. Some of them had been here before. Those who had not had expressions of bemused wonderment as they all lounged in the lush grass that blanketed the slopes of the enchanted isle. The Child Goddess and Sephrenia sat side by side on an alabaster bench in the temple. Aphrael’s expression was pensive, and she was playing a complex Styric melody in a minor key on her many-chambered pipes.

‘What kept you, Sparhawk?’ she asked, lowering the rude instrument. ‘The person in charge of my travel arrangements took me on a little side-trip,’ he replied. ‘Are we all here?’

‘Everybody who’s supposed to be. Come up here, all of you, and let’s get started.’

They climbed up the slope to the temple.

‘Where is this place?’ Sarabian asked in an awed voice.

‘Aphrael carries it in her mind, your Majesty,’ Vanion replied. ‘She invites us here from time to time. She likes to show it off.’

‘Don’t be insulting, Vanion,’ the Child Goddess told him.

‘Well, don’t you?’

‘Of course, but it’s not nice to come right out and say it like that.’

‘I feel different here, for some reason,’ Caalador noted.

‘Better, somehow.’ Vanion smiled. ‘It’s a very healthy place, my friend,’ he said. ‘I was seriously ill at the end of the Zemoch war - dying, actually. Aphrael brought me here for a month or so, and I was disgustingly healthy by the time I left.’

They all reached the little temple and took seats on the marble benches lining the columned perimeter.

Sparhawk looked around, frowning. ‘Where’s Emban?’ he asked their hostess.

‘It wouldn’t have been appropriate for him to be here, Sparhawk. Your Elene God makes exceptions in the case of the Church Knights, but he’d probably throw a fit if I brought one of the Patriarchs of his Church here. I didn’t invite the Atans either - or the Peloi.’ She smiled. ‘Neither group is comfortable with the idea of religious diversity, and this place would probably confuse them.’ She rolled her eyes upward.

‘You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to persuade Edaemus to permit Xanetia to come. He doesn’t approve of me. He thinks I’m frivolous.’

‘You?’ Sparhawk feigned some surprise. ‘How could he possibly believe something like that?’

‘Let’s get at this,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Why don’t you start, Berit? We know generally what happened, but we don’t have any details.’

‘Yes, Lady Sephrenia,’ the young knight replied. ‘Khalad and I were coming down the coast, and we’d been watched from almost the moment we came ashore. I used the spell and identified the watcher as a Styric. He came to us after several days and gave us another one of those notes from Krager. The note told us to continue down the coast, but once we get past the Tamul Mountains, we’re supposed to cut across country to Sepal instead of continuing south. The note said that we’d get further instructions there.

It was definitely from Krager. It had another lock of Queen Ehlana’s hair in it.’

‘I’m going to talk with Krager about that when I catch up with him,’ Khalad said in a bleak tone of voice.

‘I want to be sure he understands just how much we resent his even touching the Queen’s hair. Trust me, Sparhawk. Before I’m done with him, he’s going to regret it - profoundly.’

‘I’ve got enormous confidence in you, Khalad,’ Sparhawk replied.

‘Oh,’ Khalad said then, ‘there’s something I almost forgot. Does anybody know of a way to make one of our horses limp without actually hurting him? I think Berit and I might want to be able to slow down from time to time without causing suspicion. An intermittently lame horse should explain it to the people who are watching us.’

‘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.’