‘I wish I was dead,’ Talen groaned as Mirtai pulled him from the room.
Stragen and Ulath arrived from Emsat a few days later and were immediately escorted to the royal apartment. ‘You’re getting fat, Sparhawk,’ Ulath said bluntly, removing his ogre-horned helmet.
‘I’ve put on a few pounds,’ Sparhawk conceded.
‘Soft living,’ Ulath grunted disapprovingly.
‘How’s Wargun?’ Ehlana asked the huge blond Thalesian.
‘His mind’s gone,’ Ulath replied sadly. ‘They’ve got him locked up in the west wing of the palace. He spends most of his time raving.’
Ehlana sighed. ‘I always rather liked him – when he was sober.’
‘I doubt that you’ll feel the same way about his son, your Majesty,’ Stragen told her dryly. Like Platime, Stragen was a thief, but he had much better manners.
‘I’ve never met him,’ Ehlana said.
‘You might consider adding that to your next prayer of thanksgiving, your Majesty. His name’s Avin – a short and insignificant name for a short and insignificant fellow. He doesn’t show very much promise.’
‘Is he really that bad?’ Ehlana asked Ulath.
‘Avin Wargunsson? Stragen’s being generous. Avin’s a little man who spends all his time trying to make sure that people don’t overlook him. When he found out that I was coming here, he called me to the palace and gave me a royal communication to bring to you. He spent two hours trying to impress me.’
‘Were you impressed?’
‘Not particularly, no.’ Ulath reached inside his surcoat and drew out a folded and sealed sheet of parchment.
‘What does it say?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t read other people’s mail. My guess is that it’s a serious discussion of the weather. Avin Wargunsson’s desperately afraid that people might forget about him, so every traveller who leaves Emsat is loaded down with royal greetings.’
‘How was the trip?’ Sparhawk asked them.
‘I can’t really say that I’d recommend sea travel at this time of year,’ Stragen replied. His icy blue eyes hardened. ‘I want to have a talk with Platime. Ulath and I were set upon by some brigands in the mountains between here and Cardos. Bandits are supposed to know better than that.’
‘They aren’t professionals,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Platime knows about them, and he’s going to take steps. Were there any problems?’
‘Not for us,’ Ulath shrugged. ‘The amateurs out there didn’t have a very good day, though. We left five of them in a ditch, and then the rest all remembered an important engagement somewhere else.’ He went to the door and looked out into the hall. Then he closed the door and looked around, his eyes wary. ‘Are there any servants or people like that in any of your rooms here, Sparhawk?’ he asked.
‘Mirtai and our daughter is all.’
‘That’s all right. I think we can trust them. Komier sent me to let you know that Avin Wargunsson’s been in contact with Count Gerrich down in Lamorkand. Gerrich’s taking a run at King Friedahl’s throne, and Avin’s not quite bright. He doesn’t know enough to stay out of the internal squabbles in Lamorkand. Komier thinks there might just possibly be some sort of secret arrangement between them. Patriarch Bersten’s taking the same message to Chyrellos.’
‘Count Gerrich’s going to start to irritate Dolmant if he doesn’t watch what he’s doing,’ Ehlana said. ‘He’s trying to make alliances every time he turns around, and he knows that’s a violation of the rules. Lamork civil wars aren’t supposed to involve other kingdoms.’
‘That’s an actual rule?’ Stragen asked her incredulously.
‘Of course. It’s been in place for a thousand years. If the Lamork barons were free to form alliances with nobles in other kingdoms, they’d plunge the continent into war every ten years. That used to happen until the Church stepped in and told them to stop.’
‘And you thought our society had peculiar rules,’ Stragen laughed to Platime.
‘This is entirely different, Milord Stragen,’ Ehlana told him in a lofty tone. ‘Our peculiarities are matters of state policy. Yours are simply good common sense. There’s a world of difference.’
‘So I gather.’
Sparhawk was looking at all three of them when it happened, so there was no doubt that when he felt that peculiar chill and caught that faint flicker of darkness at the very outer edge of his vision, they did as well.
‘Sparhawk!’ Ehlana cried in alarm.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I know. I saw it too.’
Stragen had half-drawn his rapier, his hand moving with cat-like speed. ‘What is it?’ he demanded, looking around the room.
‘An impossibility,’ Ehlana said flatly. The look she gave her husband was a little less certain, however. ‘Isn’t it, Sparhawk?’ Her voice trembled slightly.
‘I certainly thought so,’ he replied.
‘This isn’t the time to be cryptic,’ Stragen said.
Then they all relaxed as the chill and the shadow passed.
Ulath looked speculatively at Sparhawk. ‘Was that what I thought it was?’ he asked.
‘So it seems.’
‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?’ Stragen demanded.
‘Do you remember that cloud that followed us up in Pelosia?’ Ulath said.
‘Of course. But that was Azash, wasn’t it?’
‘No. We thought so, but Aphrael told us that we were wrong. That was after you came back here, so you probably didn’t hear about it. That shadow we just saw was the Troll-Gods. They’re inside the Bhelliom.’
‘Inside?’
‘They needed a place to hide after they’d lost a few arguments with the Younger Gods of Styricum.’
Stragen looked at Sparhawk. ‘I thought you told me that you’d thrown Bhelliom into the sea.’
‘We did.’
‘And the Troll-Gods can’t get out of it?’
‘That’s what we were led to believe.’
‘You should have found a deeper ocean.’
‘There aren’t any deeper ones.’
