‘I had to go to Lamorkand.’
‘Was that your idea? or somebody else’s?’
‘Dolmant sent me.’
‘Make sure Ehlana understands that right from the start. If she thinks you went there on your own, the fight will last for weeks, and all that wrangling gets on my nerves.’ She produced the key to the royal apartment and gave Sparhawk a blunt, direct look. ‘Be very attentive, Sparhawk. She’s missed you a great deal, and she needs some tangible evidence of your affection. And don’t forget to bolt the bedroom door. Your daughter might be just a little young to be learning about certain things.’ She unlocked the door.
‘Mirtai, do you really have to lock us all in every night?’
‘Yes, I do. I can’t get to sleep until I know that none of you is out wandering around the halls.’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he added, ‘Kring was in Chyrellos. I imagine he’ll be along in a few days to propose marriage to you again.’
‘It’s about time,’ she smiled. ‘It’s been three months since his last proposal. I was beginning to think he didn’t love me any more.’
‘Are you ever going to accept him?’
‘We’ll see. Go wake up your wife, Sparhawk. I’ll let you out in the morning.’ She gently pushed him on through the doorway and locked the door behind him.
Sparhawk’s daughter, Princess Danae, was curled up in a large chair by the fire. Danae was six years old now. Her hair was very dark, and her skin as white as milk. Her dark eyes were large, and her mouth a small pink bow. She was quite the little lady, her manner serious and very grown-up. Her constant companion, nonetheless, was a battered and disreputable-looking stuffed toy animal named Rollo. Rollo had descended to Princess Danae from her mother. As usual, Princess Danae’s little feet had greenish grass-stains on them. ‘You’re late, Sparhawk,’ she said flatly to her father.
‘Danae,’ he said to her, ‘you know you’re not supposed to call me by name like that. If your mother hears you, she’s going to start asking questions.’
‘She’s asleep,’ Danae shrugged.
‘Are you really sure about that?’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Of course I am. I’m not going to make any mistakes. I’ve done this many, many times before, you know. Where have you been?’
‘I had to go to Lamorkand.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you to send word to mother? She’s been absolutely unbearable for the last few weeks.’
‘I know. Any number of people have already told me about it. I didn’t really think I’d be gone for so long. I’m glad you’re awake. Maybe you can help me with something.’
‘I’ll consider it – if you’re nice to me.’
‘Stop that. What do you know about Drychtnath?’
‘He was a barbarian, but he was an Elene, after all, so it was probably only natural.’
‘Your prejudices are showing.’
‘Nobody’s perfect. Why this sudden interest in ancient history?’
‘There’s a wild story running through Lamorkand that Drychtnath’s returned. They’re all sitting around sharpening swords with exalted expressions on their faces. What’s the real significance of that?’
‘He was their king several thousand years ago. It was shortly after you Elenes discovered fire and came out of your caves.’
‘Be nice.’
‘Yes, father. Anyway, Drychtnath hammered all the Lamorks into something that sort of resembled unity and then set out to conquer the world. The Lamorks were very impressed with him. He worshipped the old Lamork Gods, though, and your Elene Church was a little uncomfortable with the notion of a pagan sitting on the throne of the whole world, so she had him murdered.’
‘The Church wouldn’t do that,’ he said flatly.
‘Did you want to listen to the story? or did you want to argue theology? After Drychtnath died, the Lamork priests disembowelled a few chickens and fondled their entrails in order to read the future. That’s really a disgusting practice, Sparhawk. It’s so messy.’ She shuddered.
‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t think it up.’
‘The “auguries”, as they called them, said that one day Drychtnath would return to take up where he’d left off and that he’d lead the Lamorks to world domination.’
‘You mean they actually believe that?’
‘They did once.’
‘There are some rumours up there of backsliding – reversion to the worship of the old Pagan Gods.’
‘It’s the sort of thing you’d expect. When a Lamork starts thinking about Drychtnath, he automatically hauls the old Gods out of the closet. It’s so foolish. Aren’t there enough real Gods for them?’
‘The old Lamork Gods aren’t real, then?’
‘Of course not. Where’s your mind, Sparhawk?’
‘The Troll-Gods are real. What’s the difference?’
‘There’s all the difference in the world, father. Any child can see that.’
‘Why don’t I just take your word for it? And why don’t you go back to bed?’
‘Because you haven’t kissed me yet.’
‘Oh. Sorry. I had my mind on something else.’
‘Keep your eye on the important things, Sparhawk. Do you want to have me wither away?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then give me a kiss.’
He did that. As always she smelled of grass and trees. ‘Wash your feet,’ he told her.
‘Oh bother,’ she said.
‘Do you want to spend a week explaining those grass-stains to your mother?’
‘That’s all I get?’ she protested. ‘One meagre little kiss and bathing instructions?’
He laughed, picked her up and kissed her again – several times. Then he put her down. ‘Now scoot.’
