The Hidden City

‘You don’t even have to ask, Sparhawk,’ Berit said.

‘Get some details before you volunteer like that, Berit,’ Khalad told his friend in a pained voice.

‘Your father used to say almost exactly the same thing,’ Berit recalled.

‘Why didn’t you listen to him?’

‘It’s an interesting plan, Prince Sparhawk,’ Oscagne said a bit dubiously, ‘but isn’t it extremely dangerous?’

‘I’m not afraid, your Excellency,’ Berit protested.

‘I wasn’t talking about your danger, young sir. I’m talking about the danger to Queen Ehlana. The moment someone penetrates your disguise – well …’ Oscagne spread his hands.

‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that his disguise is foolproof,’ Sephrenia said.

‘He can’t keep his visor down forever, Sephrenia,’ Sarabian objected.

‘I don’t think he’ll have to,’ Sephrenia replied. She looked speculatively at Xanetia. ‘Do we trust each other enough to co-operate, Anarae?’ she asked. ‘I’m talking about something a little deeper than we’ve gone so far.’

‘I will listen most attentively to thy proposal, my sister.’

‘Delphaeic magic is directed primarily inward, isn’t it?’

Xanetia nodded.

‘That’s probably why no one can hear or feel it. Styric magic is just the reverse. We alter things around us, so our magic reaches out. Neither form will work by itself in this particular situation, but if we were to combine them …’ She left it hanging in the air between them.

‘Interesting notion,’ Aphrael mused.

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ Vanion said.

‘The Anarae and I are going to have to experiment a bit,’ Sephrenia told him, ‘but if what I’ve got in mind works, we’ll be able to make Berit look so much like Sparhawk that they’ll be able to use each other for shaving mirrors.’

‘As long as each of us knows exactly what the other’s doing, it’s not too difficult, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia assured him later when he and Berit joined her, Vanion and the Anarae in the room she shared with Vanion.

‘Will it really work?’ he asked her dubiously.

‘They haven’t actually tried it yet, Sparhawk,’ Vanion told him, ‘so we’re not entirely positive.’

‘That doesn’t sound too promising. This isn’t much of a face, but it’s the only one I’ve got.’

‘There will be no danger to thee or to young Sir Berit, Anakha,’ Xanetia said. ‘In times past it hath oft been necessary for my people to leave our valley and to go abroad amongst others. This hath been our means of disguising our true identity.’

‘It works sort of like this, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘Xanetia casts a Delphaeic spell that would normally imprint your features on her own face, but just as she releases her spell, I release a Styric one that deflects the spell to Berit instead.’

‘Won’t every Styric in Matherion feel it when you release your spell?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘That’s the beauty of it, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him. ‘The spell itself originates with Xanetia, and others can’t feel or hear a Delphaeic spell. Cyrgon himself could be in the next room and he wouldn’t hear a thing.’

‘You’re sure it’s going to work?’

‘There’s one way to find out.’

Sparhawk, of course, did not feel a thing. He was only the model, after all. It was a bit disconcerting to watch Berit’s appearance gradually change, however.

When the combined spell had been completed, sparhawk carefully inspected his young friend. ‘Do I really look like that from the side?’ he asked Vanion, feeling a bit deflated.

‘I can’t tell the two of you apart.’

‘That nose is really crooked, isn’t it?’

‘We thought you knew.’

‘I’ve never looked at myself from the side this way before.’ Sparhawk looked critically at Berit’s eyes. ‘You should probably try to squint just a little,’ he suggested. ‘My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. ‘That’s one of the things you have to look forward to as you get older.’

‘I’ll try to remember that.’ Even Berit’s voice was different.

‘Do I really sound like that?’ Sparhawk was crestfallen.

Vanion nodded.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Seeing and hearing yourself as others do definitely lowers your opinion of yourself,’ he admitted. He looked at Berit again. ‘I didn’t feel anything, did you?’

Berit nodded, swallowing hard.

‘What was it like?’

‘I’d really rather not talk about it.’ Berit gently explored his new face with cringing fingertips, wincing as he did.

‘I still can’t tell them apart,’ Kalten marveled, staring first at Berit and then at Sparhawk.

‘That was sort of the idea,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘Which one are you?’

‘Try to be serious, Kalten.’

‘Now that we know how it’s done, we can make some other changes as well,’ Sephrenia told them. ‘We’ll give you all different faces so that you’ll be able to move around freely – and we’ll put men wearing your faces here in the palace. I think we can all expect to be watched, even after the Harvest Festival, and this should nullify that particular problem.’

‘We can make more detailed plans later,’ Vanion said. ‘Let’s get Berit and Khalad on their way first. What’s the customary route when someone wants to go overland from here to Beresa?’ He unrolled a map and spread it out on the table.

‘Most travelers go by sea,’ Oscagne replied, but those who don’t usually cross the peninsula to Micae and then take a ship across the gulf to the mainland.’

‘There don’t seem to be any roads over there,’ Vanion frowned, looking at the map.

‘It’s a relatively uninhabited region, Lord Vanion,’ Oscagne shrugged, ‘salt marshes and the like. What few tracks there are wouldn’t show up on the map.’

‘Do the best you can,’ Vanion told the two young men. ‘Once you get past the Tamul Mountains, you’ll hit that road that skirts the western side of the jungle.’

‘I’d make a special point of staying out of those mountains, Berit,’ Ulath advised. ‘There are Trolls there now.’

Berit nodded.

‘You’d better have a talk with Faran, Sparhawk,’ Khalad suggested. ‘I don’t think he’ll be fooled just because Berit’s wearing your face, and Berit’s going to have to ride him if this is going to be convincing.’

‘I’d forgotten that,’ Sparhawk admitted.

‘I thought you might have.’

‘All right then,’ Vanion continued his instructions to the two young men, ‘follow that road down to Lydros, then take the road round the southern tip of Arjuna to Beresa. That’s the logical route, and they’ll probably be expecting you to go that way.’

That’s going to take quite a while, Lord Vanion,’ Khalad said.

‘I know. Evidently Krager and his friends want it to. If they were in a hurry, they’d have instructed Sparhawk to go by sea.’

‘Give Berit your wife’s ring, Sparhawk,’ Flute instructed.

‘What?’

‘Zalasta can sense the ring, and if he can, Cyrgon can, too – and Klæl will definitely feel it. If you don’t give Berit the ring, changing his face was just a waste of time.’

‘You’re putting Berit and Khalad in a great deal of danger,’ Sephrenia said critically.

‘That’s what we get paid for, little mother,’ Khalad shrugged.

‘I’ll watch over them,’ Aphrael assured her sister. She looked critically at Berit. ‘Call me,’ she told him.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Use the spell, Berit,’ she explained with exaggerated patience. ‘I want to be sure you’re doing it right.’

‘Oh.’ Berit carefully enunciated the spell of summoning, his hands moving in the intricate accompanying gestures.

‘You mispronounced “Kajerasticon”,’ she corrected him.

Sephrenia was trying without much success to suppress a laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Talen asked her.

‘Sir Berit’s pronunciations raised some questions about his meaning,’ Stragen explained.

‘What did he say?’ Talen asked curiously.

‘Just never mind what he said,’ Flute told him primly. ‘We’re not here to repeat off-color jokes about the differences between boys and girls. Practice on that one, Berit. Now try the secret summoning.’

‘What’s that?’ Itagne murmured to Vanion.

‘It’s used to pass messages, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied. ‘It summons the awareness of the Child Goddess, but not her presence. We can give her a message to carry to someone else by using that spell.’

‘Isn’t that just a little demeaning for the Child Goddess? Do you really make her run errands and carry messages that way?’

‘I’m not offended, Itagne.’ Aphrael smiled. ‘After all, we live only to serve those we love, don’t we?’

Berit’s pronunciation of the second spell raised no objections.

‘You’ll probably want to use that one most of the time anyway, Berit,’ Vanion instructed. ‘Krager warned Sparhawk about using magic, so don’t be too obvious about things. If you get any further instructions along the road, make some show of following them, but pass the word on to Aphrael.’

‘There’s no real point in decking him out in Sparhawk’s armor now, is there, Lord Vanion?’ Khalad asked.

‘Good point,’ Vanion agreed. ‘A mail-shirt should do, Berit. We want them to see your face now.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Now you’d better get some sleep,’ Vanion continued. ‘You’ll be starting early tomorrow morning.’

‘Not too early, though,’ Caalador amended. ‘We purely wouldn’t want th’ spies t’ oversleep therselfs an’ miss seein’ y’ leave. Gittin’ a new face don’t mean shucks iffn y’ don’t git no chance t’ show it off, now does it?’

It was chill and damp in the courtyard the following morning, and a thin autumn mist lay over the gleaming city. Sparhawk led Faran out of the stables. ‘Just be careful,’ he cautioned the two young men in mail-shirts and travelers’ cloaks.

‘You’ve said that already, my Lord,’ Khalad reminded him. ‘Berit and I aren’t deaf, you know.’

‘You’d better forget that name, Khalad,’ Sparhawk said critically. ‘Start thinking of our young friend here as me. A slip of the tongue in the wrong place could give this all away.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Do you need money?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘You’re as bad as your father was.’ Sparhawk pulled a purse from under his belt and handed it to his squire. Then he firmly took Faran by the chin and looked straight into the big roan’s eyes. I want you to go with Berit, Faran,’ he said. ‘Behave exactly as you would if he were me.’

Faran flicked his ears and looked away.

‘Pay attention,’ Sparhawk said sharply. ‘This is important.’

Faran sighed.

‘He knows what you’re talking about, Sparhawk,’ Khalad said. ‘He’s not stupid – just bad-tempered.’

Sparhawk handed the reins to Berit. Then he remembered something. ‘We’ll need a password,’ he said. ‘The rest of us are going to have different faces, so you won’t recognize us if we have to contact you. Pick something ordinary.’

They all considered it.

‘How about “ramshorn”?’ Berit suggested. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard to work it into an ordinary conversation, and we’ve used it before.’

Sparhawk suddenly remembered Ulesim, most-favored-disciple-of-holy-Arasham, standing atop a pile of rubble with Kurik’s crossbow bolt sticking out of his forehead and the word Ramshorn still on his lips. ‘Very good, Berit – ah – Sir Sparhawk, that is. It’s a word we all remember. You’d better get started.’

They nodded and swung up into their saddles.

‘Good luck,’ Sparhawk said.

‘You too, my Lord,’ Khalad replied. And then the pair turned and rode slowly toward the drawbridge.

‘All we’ve really got to work with is the name Beresa,’ Sarabian mused, somewhat later. ‘Krager’s note said that Sparhawk would receive further instructions there.’

‘That could be a ruse, your Majesty,’ Itagne pointed out. ‘Actually, the exchange could take place at any time – and any place. That might have been the reason for the instructions to go overland.’

‘That’s true,’ Caalador agreed. ‘Scarpa and Zalasta might just be waiting on the beach on the west side of the Gulf of Micae wanting to make the trade right there, for all we know.’

‘We’re going to an awful lot of trouble here,’ Talen said. ‘Why doesn’t Sparhawk just have Bhelliom go rescue the Queen? It could pick her up and have her back here before Scarpa even knew she was gone.’

‘No,’ Aphrael said, shaking her head. ‘Bhelliom can’t do that any more than I can.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we don’t know where she is - and we can’t go looking for her, because they’ll be able to sense us moving around.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know that.’

Aphrael rolled her eyes upward. ‘Men!’ she sighed.

‘It was very resourceful of Ehlana to slip her ring to Melidere,’ Sephrenia said, ‘but locating her would be much easier if she still had it with her.’

‘I sort of doubt that, dear,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘Zalasta of all people knows that the rings can be traced. If Ehlana had still been wearing it, the first thing Scarpa would have done would have been to send Krager or Elron off in the opposite direction with it.’

‘You’re assuming that Zalasta’s involved in this,’ she disagreed. There is the possibility that Scarpa’s acting on his own, you know.’

‘It’s always better to assume the worst,’ he shrugged. ‘Our situation is much more perilous if Zalasta and Cyrgon are involved. If it’s only Scarpa, he’ll be relatively easy to dispose of.’

‘But only after Ehlana and Alean are safe,’ Sparhawk amended.

‘That goes without saying, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said.

‘Everything hinges on the moment of the exchange then, doesn’t it?’ Sarabian noted. ‘We can make some preparations, but we won’t be able to do anything at all significant until the moment that Scarpa actually produces Ehlana.’

‘And that means that we have to stay close to Berit and Khalad,’ Tynian added.

‘No.’ Aphrael was shaking her head. ‘You’ll give everything away if you all start hovering over those two. Let me do the staying close. I don’t wear armor, so no one will be able to smell me from a thousand paces off. Itagne’s right. The exchange could come at any time. I’ll let Sparhawk know the very instant Scarpa shows up with Ehlana and Alean. Then Bhelliom can set him down – with knife – right on top of them. Then we’ll have the ladies back, and we’ll be more or less in charge of things again.’

‘And that brings us right back to a purely military situation,’ Patriarch Emban mused. I think we’ll want to send word to Komier and Bergsten. We’re going to need the Church Knights in Cynesga and Arjuna, not in Edom or Astel – or here in Matherion. Let’s have them ride southeast after they come down out of the mountains of Zemoch. We’ll have the Atans in Sarna, the eastern Peloi and the Church Knights we’ve already got in Samar, the Trolls in the Tamul Mountains and Komier and Bergsten on the western side of the Desert of Cynesga. We’ll be able to squeeze the land of the Cyrgai like a lemon at that point.’

‘And see what kind of seeds come popping out,’ Kalten added bleakly.

Patriarch Emban, First Secretary of the Church of Chyrellos, was a man who absolutely adored lists. The fat little churchman automatically drew up a list when any subject was being discussed. There is a certain point in most discussions when things have all been settled, and the participants start going back over the various points. Inevitably, that was the point at which Emban pulled out his list. ‘All right then,’ he said in a tone that clearly said that he was summing up, ‘Sparhawk will take ship for Beresa, along with Milord Stragen and young master Talen, right?’

‘It puts him in place in case Berit and Khalad do, in fact, have to ride all the way down there, your Grace,’ Vanion said. ‘And Stragen and Talen have contacts in Beresa, so they’ll probably be able to find out just who else is in town.’

Emban checked that off his list. ‘Next. Sir Kalten, Sir Bevier and Master Caalador will sail south on a different ship and go into the jungles of Arjuna.’

Caalador nodded. ‘I’ve got a friend in Delo who has contacts with the robber bands in those jungles,’ he said. ‘We’ll join one of those bands, so we’ll be able to keep an eye on Natayos and pass the word if Scarpa’s army starts to move.’

‘Right.’ Emban checked that off. ‘Next. Sir Ulath and Sir Tynian will go to the Tamul Mountains to stay in touch with the Trolls.’ He frowned. ‘Why is Tynian going there?’ he asked. ‘He doesn’t speak Trollish.’

‘Tynian and I get along well,’ Ulath rumbled, ‘and I’ll get terribly lonely if there’s no one around to talk with but Trolls. You have no idea of how depressing it is to be alone with Trolls, your Grace.’

‘Whatever makes you happy, Sir Ulath.’ Emban shrugged. ‘Now then, Sephrenia and Anarae Xanetia will go to Delphaeus to advise Anari Cedon about all these recent developments and to explain what we’re doing.’

‘And to see what we can do to make peace between Styricum and the Delphae,’ Sephrenia added.

Emban checked off another item. He said, ‘Lord Vanion, Queen Betuana, Ambassador Itagne and Domi Kring will take the five thousand knights and go to Western Tamul Proper to join with the forces they have in place in Sarna and Samar.’

‘Where is Domi Kring?’ Betuana asked, looking around for the little man.

‘He’s standing guard over Mirtai,’ Princess Danae said. ‘He’s still about half afraid she might try to kill herself.’

‘We could have a problem there,’ Bevier observed. ‘Under those circumstances, Kring might not be willing to leave Matherion.’

‘We can get along without him if we have to,’ Vanion said. I can deal with Tikume directly. Having Kring around would make it easier, but I can make do without him if he really thinks that Mirtai might do something foolish.’

Emban nodded. ‘Emperor Sarabian, Foreign Minister Oscagne and I will stay here in Matherion to hold down the fort, and the Child Goddess will keep us all in touch with each other. Have I left anything out?’

‘What do you want me to do, Emban?’ Danae asked sweetly.

‘You’ll stay here in Matherion with us, your Royal Highness,’ Emban replied, ‘to brighten our gloomy days and nights with the sunshine of your smile.’

‘Are you making fun of me, your Grace?’

‘Of course not, Princess.’

To say that Mirtai was unhappy would have been the grossest of understatements. She was in chains when Kring brought her into the council chamber with a hopeless kind of look on his face. ‘Nothing I say even reaches her,’ the Domi told them. ‘I think she’s even forgotten that we’re betrothed.’

The golden Atan giantess would not look at any of them, but sank instead to the floor in abject misery.

‘She has failed her owner.’ Betuana shrugged. ‘She must either avenge or die.’

‘Not quite, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk’s daughter said firmly. She slipped down from the chair in the corner from which she had been watching the proceedings. She deposited Rollo in one corner of the chair and Mmrr in the other and crossed the room to Mirtai with a businesslike look on her small face. ‘Atana Mirtai,’ she said crisply, ‘get up off the floor.’

Mirtai looked sullenly at her, then slowly rose, her chains clinking.

‘In my mother’s absence, I am the queen,’ Danae declared.

Sparhawk blinked.

‘You’re not Ehlana,’ Mirtai said.

‘Im not pretending to be. I’m stating a legal fact. Sarabian, isn’t that the way it works? Isn’t my mother’s power mine while she’s away?’

‘Well – technically, I suppose.’

‘Technically my foot. I’m Queen Ehlana’s heir. I’m assuming her position until she returns. That means that I temporarily own everything that’s hers – her throne, her crown, her jewels, and her personal slave.’

‘I’d hate to have to argue against her in a court of law,’ Emban admitted.

Thank you, your Grace,’ Danae said. ‘All right, Atana Mirtai, you heard them. You’re my property now.’

Mirtai scowled at her.

‘Don’t do that,’ Danae snapped. ‘Pay attention. I am your owner, and I forbid you to kill yourself. I also forbid you to run off. I need you here. You’re going to stay here with Melidere and me, and you’re going to guard us. You failed my mother. Don’t fail me.’

Mirtai stiffened, and then she broke her chains with an angry wrench of her arms. ‘It shall be as you say, your Majesty,’ she snapped, her eyes blazing.

Danae looked around at the rest of them with a smug little smile. ‘See,’ she said. ‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Chapter 4

It was a small, single-masted coastal freighter with a leaky bottom and patched sails. It definitely did not skim the waves. Berit and Khalad wore their mail-shirts and travelers’ cloaks and they stood in the bow looking out across the leaden expanse of the Gulf of Micae as the wretched vessel wallowed along. ‘Is that coast up ahead?’ Berit asked hopefully.

Khalad looked out across the choppy water. ‘No, just a cloud-bank. We’re not moving very fast, my Lord. We won’t make the coast today, I’m afraid.’ He looked aft and lowered his voice. ‘Stay alert after the sun goes down,’ he instructed. ‘The crew of this tub is made up of waterfront sweepings, and the captain isn’t much better. I think we should take turns sleeping tonight.’

Berit glanced back along the deck at the assortment of ruffians loitering there. ‘I wish I had my axe,’ he muttered.

‘Don’t say things like that out loud, Berit,’ Khalad muttered. ‘Sparhawk doesn’t use a war-axe. Krager knows that, and one of these sailors may be working for him.’

‘Still? After the Harvest Festival?’

‘Nobody’s ever figured out a way to kill all the rats, my Lord, and it only takes one. Let’s both behave as if we’re being watched and every word we say is being overheard – just to be on the safe side.’

‘I’ll be a lot happier once we get ashore. Did we really have to make this leg of the trip by sea?’

‘It’s the custom.’ Khalad shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. We can hold off these sailors if we have to.’

‘That’s not what’s bothering me, Khalad. This scow waddles through the water like a whale with a sprained back. It’s making me queasy.’

‘Eat a piece of dry bread.’

‘I’d rather not. This is really miserable, Khalad.’

‘But we’re having an adventure, my Lord,’ Khalad said brightly. ‘Doesn’t the excitement make up for the discomfort?’

‘No. Not really.’

‘You’re the one who wanted to be a knight.’

‘Yes, I know – and right now I’m trying to remember why.’

Patriarch Emban was very displeased. ‘This is really outrageous, Vanion,’ he protested as he waddled along with the others toward the chapel in the west wing. ‘If Dolmant ever finds out that I’ve permitted the practice of witchcraft in a consecrated place of worship, he’ll have me defrocked.’

‘It’s the safest place, Emban,’ Vanion replied, ‘The pretense of “sacred rites” gives us an excuse to chase all the Tamuls out of the west wing. Besides, the chapel’s probably never really been consecrated anyway. This is an imitation castle built to make Elenes feel at home. The people who built it couldn’t have known the rite of consecration.’

‘You don’t know that it hasn’t been consecrated.’

‘And you don’t know that it has. If it bothers you all that much, Emban, you can re-consecrate it after we finish.’

Emban’s face blanched. ‘Do you know what’s involved in that, Vanion?’ he protested. ‘The hours of praying – the prostration before the altar – the fasting?’ His chubby face went pale. ‘Good God, the fasting!’

Sephrenia, Flute, and Xanetia had slipped into the chapel several hours earlier, and they were sitting unobtrusively in one corner listening to a choir of Church Knights singing hymns.

Emban and Vanion were still arguing when they joined the ladies. ‘What’s the problem?’ Sephrenia asked.