CHAPTER 16

‘I know it’s him, my Lady,’ Alcan insisted.

‘Alcan, dear,’ Ehlana said gently, ‘he doesn’t look the least bit like Sir Kalten.’

‘I don’t know how they’ve done it, but that’s Kalten out there in the street,’ the girl replied. ‘My heart sings every time he walks by.’

Ehlana peered through the little opening in the window. The man looked like an Elene, there was no question about that, and Sephrenia was a magician, after all. The thought of Sephrenia filled the Queen’s eyes with tears again. She straightened, quickly wiping her eyes.

‘He’s gone by,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure, dear?’

‘A thousand things, my Lady - little things. It’s the way he holds his head, that funny way he rolls his shoulders when he walks, his laugh, the way he hitches up his sword-belt. They’ve changed his face somehow, but I know it’s him.’

‘You could be right, Alcan,’ Ehlana concluded a bit dubiously. ‘I could probably pick Sparhawk out of a crowd no matter whose face he happened to be wearing.’

‘Exactly, my Lady. Our hearts know the men we love.’ Ehlana began to pace the floor, her fingers absently adjusting the wimple that covered her head. ‘It’s not impossible,’ she conceded. ‘Sparhawk’s told me about all the times he disguised himself when he was in Render, and Styric magic might very well be able to change people’s faces. And of course, if Sephrenia hadn’t been able to do it, Bhelliom certainly could have. Let’s trust your heart and say that it is Sir Kalten out there.’

‘I know it is, my Lady.

‘It does stand to reason,’ Ehlana mused. ‘if Sparhawk’s somehow found out that we’re here, he’d most definitely want to have some of our friends close by when the rest of them come to rescue us.’ She frowned as a thought came to her. ‘Maybe he doesn’t know for sure, though. Kalten might just be here to look around. We have to come up with some way to let him know that we’re here before he gives up and moves on.’

‘But we’re imprisoned, my Lady,’ the girl with the huge eyes protested. ‘if we try to call out to him, we’ll put him in terrible danger.’ She bent and looked out at the street again. ‘He’s coming back,’ she said.

‘Sing, Alcan!’ Ehlana exclaimed suddenly.

‘What?’

‘Sing! ‘if anyone in the whole world would recognize your voice, Kalten would!’

Alcan’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘He would!’ she exclaimed.

‘Here. Let me watch his face. Sing your soul out, Alcan! Break his heart!’ Alcan’s voice throbbed as her clear soprano reached effortlessly up in aching song. She sang ‘My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy’, a very old ballad which Ehlana knew held special significance for her maid and the blond Pandion. The Queen looked out the window again. The roughly dressed man in the street was standing stock-still, frozen in place by Alcan’s soaring voice. All doubt vanished from Ehlana’s mind. It was Kalten. his eyes streamed tears, and his expression had become exalted, adoring. And then he did something so unexpected that Ehlana was forced to revise her long-held opinion about his intelligence. He sat down on the mossy cobblestones, removed one shoe, and began to whistle an accompaniment to Alcan’s song. He knew.

And he was whistling to let them know that he knew! Not even Sparhawk could have responded so quickly, or come up with so perfect a way to convey his understanding of the situation.

‘That’s enough, Alcan.’ Ehlana hissed. ‘He got our message.’

Alcan stopped singing.

‘What are you doing there?’ one of the Arjunis who guarded the door demanded, coming into view.

‘Stone in my shoe,’ Kalten explained, shaking the shoe he’d just removed. ‘It felt like a boulder.’

‘All right, move on.’ Kalten’s altered features took on a truculent look. He pulled his shoe back on and stood up. ‘Friend,’ he said in a pointed sort of way, ‘you’ll be getting off guard-duty before very long, and you might just decide to stop by Senga’s tavern for a few tankards of beer. I’m in charge of security there, and if you start pushing me around here, I might just decide that you’re too rowdy to be served when you get there. Understand?’

‘I’m supposed to keep people away from this building,’ the guard explained, quickly modifying his tone.

‘But politely, friend, politely. Every man in this whole place is armed to the teeth, so we all have to be polite to each other.’ Kalten threw a guarded glance at the barred window from which Ehlana watched.

‘I learned politeness when I took up with Shallag you know him, don’t you? The one-eyed fellow with the lochaber axe?’

The guard shuddered. ‘Is he as bad as he looks?’ he asked.

‘Worse. He’ll hack your head off if you even sneeze on him.’ Kalten squared his shoulders. ‘Well, I guess I’d better be getting back to the tavern. As my friend Ezek says, “Tain’t hardly likely that I’ll make no profit lollygaggin’ around in the street.” Come on by the tavern when you get off work, friend. I’ll buy you a tankard of beer. ‘ And he went off down the street, still whistling

‘My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy’.

‘Treasure him, Alcan,’ Ehlana said, her heart still soaring, ‘and don’t let that face deceive you. He gave me more information in two minutes than Sparhawk could have in an hour.’

‘My Lady?’ Alcan looked baffled. ‘He knows that we’re here. He started to whistle along while you were singing. He also told me that Sir Bevier and Caalador are here with him.’

‘How did he do that?’

‘He was talking with the guard. Bevier’s probably the only man in Daresia right now with a lochaber axe, and his other friend sounds just like Caalador. They know we’re here, Alcan, and if they know, Sparhawk knows. We might as well start packing. We’ll be leaving here shortly and going back to Matherion.’ She laughed delightedly and threw her arms round her maid.

Kalten tried very hard to keep his face expressionless as he walked back along the moss-covered streets toward Senga’s tavern, but the excitement kept bubbling up in him, and it was very difficult to keep from laughing out loud. Scarpa’s army had cleared the northern quarters of Natayos and restored the buildings there to some degree of habitability when they had first arrived, but most of the city was still a vine-choked ruin. Senga had considered several possible sites for his tavern and had rather shrewdly decided to set up operations some distance deeper into the old city to avoid interference from officious sergeants or junior Elene officers with deep convictions and not much sense. He had chosen a low, squat

building with thick walls but no roof, a deficiency easily overcome with tent-canvas. He had considered hiring off-duty soldiers to clear the brush out of the street leading from Scarpa’s main camp to the tavern door, but Caalador had persuaded him to save his money.

‘Then ain’t no need, Senga,’ the disguised Cammorian had told the harried businessman, reverting to his dialect. ‘Them thirsty soldiers’ll clear the street fer us then very ownselfs ‘thout no money changin’ hands a-tall.’

The tavern crouched in the ruins, indistinguishable from nearby buildings except for its canvas roof and the crudely lettered sign reading ‘Senga’s’ out front. Kalten entered the tavern through the side door and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The place was moderately crowded, even at midday, and the six aproned outlaws from Narstil’s camp hustled back and forth behind a rough plank counter, drawing foamy beer and collecting money. Kalten pushed through the noisy crowd, looking for Bevier and Caalador. He found them sitting at a table on the near side of the room. Bevier’s sawed-off lochaber and Caalador’s stout cudgel lay in plain sight on the table as a sort of constant reminder to the assembled revelers that while having a good time was encouraged, there were strictly enforced limits. Kalten carefully lowered himself onto the bench, keeping his exuberance tightly bottled in. He leaned forward, motioning his friends closer.

‘They’re here,’ he said quietly. Caalador looked around the tavern. ‘Wal,’ he drawled, ‘not quite all of

‘em, but most likely ever’body who’s off-duty.’

‘ I’m not talking about this crowd, Ezek. I’m talking about the house with the barred windows. The people we’ve been looking for are definitely inside that house.’

‘How do you know?’ Bevier demanded in an intense whisper.

‘Did you see them?’

‘I didn’t have to. One of them is a very special friend of mine, and this friend recognized me - even with this face. Don’t ask me how.’

‘Are you sure?’ Bevier pressed. ‘Oh, yes. This friend started to sing in a voice I’d recognize in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was a very old song that has a personal meaning for the two of us. Our friends inside recognized me, there’s no question about it. This friend I was just talking about only sings that song for me.’

‘I don’t suppose there was any way you could let them know that you’d received their message?’

Caalador asked. ‘Short of tearing down the door, I mean?’

‘No, I didn’t have to tear down the door. I whistled along. I’ve done that before, so my friend knew what I was trying to say. Then I struck up a conversation with one of the guards, and I slipped in enough hints to let our friends inside know the things they ought to be aware of.’ Caalador leaned back in his chair.

‘Yer idee ‘bout this yore tavern’s workin’ out real good, Shallag. We bin a-pickin’ up all sorts o’ useful information since we settled in.’

Kalten looked around the tavern. ‘Things are quiet right now,’ he said quietly. ‘The fights probably won’t start until after the sun goes down. Why don’t we take a stroll back into the ruins? I think we’d better have another chat with that certain little girl. This time we’ve got some good news for her.’

‘Let’s get at it,’ Caalador said, rising to his feet. He pushed his way through to the counter, spoke briefly with one of the foam-soaked outlaws and then led the way outside. They went around behind the tavern and pushed their way along a vine-choked side-street that ran on past some fallen buildings where bright-colored birds perched, squawking raucously. They went into a partially collapsed ruin, and Kalten and Caalador stood watch while Bevier cast the spell.

The Cyrinic was grinning when he came out. ‘You’d better brace yourself, Kalten,’ he said.

‘What for?’ ‘Aphrael plans to kiss you into insensibility the next time she sees you.’

‘I suppose I can live with that. I gather she was pleased?’

She almost ruptured my eardrums.’ ‘Well, as she always says, “We only live to please those we love.”’

Scarpa was screaming even before he came through the door. His voice was high and shrill, his eyes

bulged, and his makeshift crown was askew. He was clearly in the throes of hysterical rage. His lips and beard were flecked with foam as he burst into the room.

‘Your husband has betrayed you, woman!’ he shrieked at Ehlana. ‘You will pay for his perfidy! I will have your life for this!’ He started toward her, his hands extended like claws. Then Zalasta was in the doorway. ‘No!’ he barked in an icy

tone. Scarpa spun on his father. ‘Stay out of this!’ he shrieked. ‘She is my prisoner. I will punish her for Sparhawk’s treachery!’

‘No, actually you won’t. You’ll do as I tell you to do.’ Zalasta spoke in Elenic, and all traces of his accent were gone now.

‘He disobeyed my orders. I will make him pay!’

‘Are you so stupid that you didn’t expect this? I told you how devious the man was, but your mind’s so clogged with cobwebs that you wouldn’t listen.’

‘I gave him an order!’ Scarpa’s voice had risen to a squeal. He stamped his foot. Then he stamped the other. Then he began jumping up and down on the floor, quite literally dancing with rage. ‘I am the emperor! He must obey me!’

Zalasta did not even bother to use magic this time. He simply swung his staff and knocked his hysterical son to the floor, sending his crown rolling. ‘You sicken me,’ he said in a voice loaded with contempt. ‘I have no patience with these tempertantrums. You are not the emperor. When you’re in this condition, you’re not even meaningful.’ His face was unemotional, and his eyes were remote. ‘Have a care, Scarpa,’

he said in a dreadful voice. ‘There’s nothing in this world that I love now. You have freed me from all human attachments. If you annoy me, I’ll squash you like a bug.’

Scarpa scrambled away from the terrible old man, his eyes suddenly rational and filled with fear.

‘What’s happened?’ Ehlana asked anxiously.

‘One of my associates - Cyzada of Esos - just arrived from Cynesga,’ Zalasta replied calmly. ‘He brought us some news that we probably should have expected. Your husband’s a devious man, Ehlana. We thought that we had him, but he managed to wriggle free.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘We left him instructions when we abducted you. He was supposed to take his squire and set out on horseback for the town of Beresa in southern Arjuna. We had people watching, and he seemed to be obeying. He was not, however. Evidently he’s not as fond of you as we’d thought he was.’

‘He was simply following my orders, Zalasta. I told him that under no circumstances was he to give up the Bhelliom.’

‘How did you manage that?’ Zalasta seemed actually startled.

‘Your lunatic son here told Elron to kill Baroness Melidere. Elron’s a hopeless incompetent, so Melidere was able to deflect his sword-thrust. I have some remarkable people working for me, Zalasta. Melidere was able to play dead very convincingly. I feigned hysteria and managed to whisper instructions to her while I covered her with a blanket.’ She gave him a rather malicious sidelong glance. ‘Your mind must be slipping, Zalasta. You didn’t even notice that I no longer had my ring. I left that with Melidere as well.’

‘Very resourceful, Ehlana,’ he murmured. ‘You and your husband are stimulating opponents.’

‘I’m so glad you approve. How did Sparhawk trick you?’

‘We’re not entirely sure. We had people watching him from the moment he left the imperial compound in Matherion, and he followed our orders to the letter. We even diverted him a couple of times to prevent any tricks. Then Klael escaped again and went looking for Bhelliom. The man we thought was Sparhawk was on a ship crossing the Sea of Arjun with his squire, Khalad. Klael took one look and instantly knew that the man who appeared to be your husband was not Anakha. That’s the news that Cyzada just brought to us.’

She smiled almost beatifically at him. ‘And so now Sparhawk’s out there somewhere - with Bhelliom in his fist and murder in his heart - and you haven’t the faintest idea of where he might be, and quite probably not even what he looks like. You’ve got a big problem, Zalasta.’

‘You’re very quick, your Majesty. You think even faster than my colleagues.’

‘That isn’t very difficult. You’re surrounded with defectives. Which particular stroke of my genius is it that you admire?’

He smiled faintly. ‘I rather like you, Ehlana,’ he told her. ‘You have spirit. My assorted defectives haven’t yet fully grasped the implications of your husband’s ploy. If he’s somehow managed to make someone resemble him, he’s surely able to alter his own features as well.’

‘He does it all the time, Zalasta. He had a great deal of experience with disguises when he was in Render.

It’s all falling apart on you, isn’t it? I’d suggest that you start running immediately.’

‘I’ll be leaving shortly, right enough, but you’ll be going with me. Tell your maid to start making preparations for a journey.’

‘What are you saying?’ Scarpa scrambled to his feet. ‘She can’t leave here!’ he shrieked. ‘We’re going to make the exchange here!’

‘You imbecile,’ Zalasta sneered. ‘You didn’t really think I was going to let you go through with that, did you? I never had any intention of letting you get within five miles of Bhelliom.’

Scarpa gaped at him. ‘It was a misguided attempt to save your life, idiot. Bhelliom would have destroyed you in the instant that you touched it.’

‘Not if I had the rings. They would have protected me.’ Scarpa’s eyes were wild again.

‘The rings are a fraud,’ Zalasta sneered. ‘They have no power over Bhelliom whatsoever.’

‘You’re lying!’

‘You desperately want to believe that, don’t you, Scarpa? You thought that all you had to do to gain control of the most powerful force in the universe was to put on a pair of rings. Ghwerig the Troll-Dwarf made the rings at Bhelliom’s instruction. They were designed to deceive a Troll into thinking he had some power over the jewel. Bhelliom induced Ghwerig to make the rings, and then it tricked Aphrael into stealing them. Everyone’s attention was so fixed on the rings that we didn’t even bother trying to steal Bhelliom from the royal crown of Thalesia.’

Scarpa suddenly sneered. ‘You just outsmarted yourself, old boy. If Bhelliom’s so deadly, how is it that the kings of Thalesia could touch it and not die?’

‘Because Bhelliom’s alive, you dolt. It has an awareness. It kills only those it wants to kill - and that would certainly include you. You’re my son, and even I want to kill you most of the time. You had some deranged, half-formed notion that you could just pick up Bhelliom and start giving it commands, didn’t you?’

Scarpa flushed guiltily.

‘Can’t you get it through your sick head that only a God - or Anakha - can safely take up Bhelliom and start giving it orders? I realized that over a century ago. Why do you think I made an alliance with Azash

- or with Cyrgon? Did you think I was having religious yearnings?’ He smiled a cruel smile. ‘Did you really think Bhelliom would have made you a match for me, Scarpa? You were going to put on the rings, snatch up the Bhelliom, and order it to kill me, weren’t you? I almost wish the situation were different. I’d have loved to see the expression on your face as Bhelliom slowly turned you to stone.’ Zalasta straightened. ‘Enough of this,’ he said. He went to the door.

‘Come in here,’ he barked, ‘all of you.’

The men who entered were fearful and hesitant as they sidled through the door. Krager appeared to have been frightened to the point that he was sober, and Elron was actually cringing. The third man was a stringy-looking Styric with a long beard, shaggy eyebrows, and sunken, burning eyes.

‘All right, gentlemen,’ Zalasta said, ‘this new development calls for a change of plans. My son and I have discussed the matter, and he’s evidently decided that he wants to go on living, because he’s agreed to follow my instructions. I’m going to take the Queen and her maid to a safe place. Natayos is no longer secure. Sparhawk could literally be anywhere. For all I know, he’s already here. I want you three to stay here with Scarpa. Keep sending those letters of instruction to this counterfeit Sparhawk. Don’t let our enemies know that we’re on to them. Give me a couple of days and then send instructions to Panem-Doa. Tell them to prepare suitable quarters for two very important ladies. Then wait two more days and send a closed carriage down there. Security’s an alien concept to those cretins at Panem-Doa, so word of your message will be all over southern Arjuna almost before your messenger arrives. Cyzada,

I want you to keep a close watch over my deranged son here. If he doesn’t follow my instructions to the letter, I want you to summon one of the servants of Azash from the nether world to kill him. Be creative, old boy. Pick the cruelest and most hideous demon you can find. If Scarpa disobeys me again, I want him to take a long, long time to die, and I want them to be able to hear him screaming all the way from here to Matherion.’

Cyzada’s dead eyes came alight with a sudden cruel anticipation. He fixed a ghastly smile on the now totally rational Scarpa. ‘I’ll see to it, Zalasta,’ he promised in a hollow voice. ‘I know just the one to call on.’

Scarpa shrank back fearfully.

‘Where are you going to take the prisoners, Lord Zalasta?’ Elron quavered. ‘Where can you be safe from that vengeful monster they call Anakha?’

‘You don’t need to know that, Elron,’ Zalasta replied. ‘The Pandions have a reputation for severity when they interrogate prisoners. You won’t be able to tell them what you don’t know - even when they start to torture you.’

‘Torture?’ Elron’s eyes widened, and his voice came out in a terrified squeak.

‘This is the real world, Elron, not some romanticized daydream. The posturing and play-acting are over now, but I’m sure we’ll all be impressed by how heroically you endure the agonies they’ll surely inflict on you when they catch you.’

Elron fell back in a near faint.