‘Don’t do it again, your Grace,’ Sparhawk pleaded. ‘I’ve seen what Gods can do to people, and I don’t want to be around if you really insult them.’
‘Our God protects me.’
‘Annias was praying to our God when Azash wrung him out like a wet rag, your Grace. It didn’t do him all that much good, as I recall.’
‘That was really stupid, you know,’ Emban said then.
‘I’m glad you realise that.’
‘Not me, Sparhawk. I’m talking about our adversary. Why did it reveal itself at this particular moment? It should have kept its flamboyant demonstration to itself and just listened. It could have found out what our plans are. Not only that, it revealed itself to Monsel. Until it appeared, he only had our word for the fact of its existence. Now he’s seen it for himself.’
‘Will someone please explain this?’ Monsel burst out.
‘It was the Troll-Gods, your Grace,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as a Troll, so how can they have Gods?’
‘This may take longer than I’d thought,’ Sparhawk muttered half to himself. ‘As a matter of fact, your Grace, there are Trolls.’
‘Have you ever seen one?’ Monsel challenged.
‘Only one, your Grace. His name was Ghwerig. He was dwarfed, so he was only about seven feet tall. He was still very difficult to kill.’
‘You killed him?’ Monsel gasped.
‘He had something I wanted,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Ulath’s seen a lot more of them than I have, your Grace. He can tell you all about them. He even speaks their language. I did for a while myself, but I’ve probably forgotten by now. Anyway, they have a language, which means that they’re semi-human, and that means that they have Gods, doesn’t it?’
Monsel looked helplessly at Emban.
‘Don’t ask me, my friend,’ the fat Patriarch said. ‘That’s a long way out of my theological depth.’
‘For the time being, you’ll have to take my word for it,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘There are Trolls, and they do have Gods – five of them – and they aren’t very nice. That shadow Patriarch Emban just so casually dismissed was them – or something very much like them – and that’s what we’re up against. That’s what’s trying to bring down the empire and the Church – both our churches, probably. I’m sorry I have to put it to you so abruptly, Archimandrite Monsel, but you have to know what you’re dealing with. Otherwise, you’ll be totally defenceless. You don’t have to believe what I just told you, but you’d better behave as if you did, because if you don’t, your Church doesn’t have a chance of surviving.’
The Atans arrived a few days later. A hush fell over the city of Darsas as the citizens scurried for cover. No man is so entirely guiltless in his own soul that the sudden appearance of a few thousand police does not give him a qualm or two. The Atans were superbly conditioned giants. The two thousand warriors of both sexes ran in perfect unison as they entered the city four abreast. They wore short leather kirtles, burnished steel breastplates and black half-boots. Their bare limbs gleamed golden in the morning sun as they ran, and their faces were stern and unbending. Though they were obviously soldiers, there was no uniformity in their weapons. They carried a random collection of swords, short spears and axes, as well as other implements for which Sparhawk had no names. They all had several sheathed daggers strapped tightly to their arms and legs. They wore no helmets, but had slender gold circlets about their heads instead.
‘Lord,’ Kalten breathed to Sparhawk as the two of them stood on the palace battlements to watch the arrival of their escort, ‘I’d really hate to come up against that lot on a battlefield. Just looking at them makes my blood cold.’
‘I believe that’s the idea, Kalten,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Mirtai’s impressive all by herself, but when you see a couple of thousand of them like this, you begin to understand how the Tamuls were able to conquer a continent without any particular difficulty. I’d imagine that whole armies simply capitulated when they saw them coming.’
The Atans entered the square in front of the palace and formed up before the residence of the Tamul Ambassador. A huge man went to Ambassador Fontan’s door, his pace quite clearly indicating that if the door were not opened for him, he would walk right through it.
‘Why don’t we go down?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘I expect that Fontan will be bringing that fellow to call in a few moments. Watch what you say, Kalten. Those people strike me as a singularly humourless group. I’m sure they’d miss the point of almost any joke.’
‘Really,’ Kalten breathed his agreement.
The party accompanying the Queen of Elenia gathered in her Majesty’s private quarters and stood about rather nervously awaiting the arrival of the Tamul Ambassador and his general. Sparhawk watched Mirtai rather closely to see what her reaction might be upon being re-united with her people after so many years. She wore clothing he had not seen her wear before, clothing which closely resembled that worn by her countrymen. In place of the steel breastplate, however, she wore a tight-fitting, sleeveless black leather jerkin, and the band about her brow was of silver rather than gold. Her face was serene, seeming to show neither anticipation nor nervous apprehension. She merely waited.
Then Fontan and Oscagne arrived with the tallest man Sparhawk had ever seen. They introduced him as Atan Engessa. The word ‘Atan’ appeared to be not only the name of the people, but some kind of title as well. Engessa was well over seven feet tall, and the room seemed to shrink as he entered. His age, probably because of his race, was indeterminate. He was lean and muscular, and his expression sternly unyielding. His face showed no evidence that he had ever smiled.
Immediately upon his entrance into the room, he went directly to Mirtai, as if none of the rest of them were even in the room. He touched the fingertips of both hands to his steel-armoured chest and inclined his head to her. ‘Atana Mirtai,’ he greeted her respectfully.
‘Atan Engessa,’ she replied, duplicating his gesture of greeting. Then they spoke to each other at some length in the Tamul tongue.
‘What are they saying?’ Ehlana asked Oscagne, who had crossed to where they all stood.
‘It’s a ritual of greeting, your Majesty,’ Oscagne replied. ‘There are a great many formalities involved when Atans meet. The rituals help to hold down the bloodshed, I believe. At the moment, Engessa’s questioning Mirtai concerning her status as a child – the silver headband, you understand. It’s an indication that she hasn’t yet gone through the Rite of Passage.’ He stopped and listened for a moment as Mirtai spoke. ‘She’s explaining that she’s been separated from humans since childhood and hasn’t had the opportunity to participate in the ritual as yet.’
‘Separated from humans?’ Ehlana objected. ‘What does she think we are?’
‘Atans believe that they are the only humans in the world. I’m not sure exactly what they consider us to be.’ The ambassador blinked. ‘Has she really killed that many people?’ he asked with some surprise.
‘Ten?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘She said thirty-four.’
‘That’s impossible!’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘She’s been a member of my court for the past seven years. I’d have known if she’d killed anyone while she was in my service.’
‘Not if she did it at night, you wouldn’t, my Queen,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘She locks us in our rooms every night. She says that it’s for our own protection, but maybe it’s really so that she can go out looking for entertainment. Maybe we should change the procedure when we get home. Let’s start locking her up for the night instead of the other way around.’
‘She’ll just kick the door down, Sparhawk.’
‘That’s true, I suppose. We could always chain her to the wall at night I guess.’
‘Sparhawk!’ Ehlana exclaimed.
‘We can talk about it later. Here comes Fontan and General Engessa.’
‘Atan Engessa, Sparhawk,’ Oscagne corrected. ‘Engessa wouldn’t even recognise the title of general. He’s a warrior – an “Atan”. That’s all the title he seems to need. If you call him “General”, you’ll insult him, and that’s not a good idea.’
Engessa had a deep, quiet voice, and he spoke the Elenic language haltingly and with an exotic accent. He carefully repeated each of their names when Fontan introduced them, obviously committing them to memory. He accepted Ehlana’s status without question, although the concept of a queen must have been alien to him. He recognised Sparhawk and the other knights as warriors, and respected them as such. The status of Patriarch Emban, Talen, Stragen and Baroness Melidere obviously baffled him. He greeted Kring, however, with the customary Peloi salute. ‘Atana Mirtai advises me that you seek marriage with her,’ he said.
‘That’s right,’ Kring replied a bit pugnaciously. ‘Have you any objections?’
‘That depends. How many have you killed?’
‘More than I can conveniently count.’
‘That could mean two things. Either you have slain many, or you have a poor head for figures.’
‘I can count past two hundred,’ Kring declared.
‘A respectable number. You are Domi among your people?’
‘I am.’
‘Who cut your head?’ Engessa pointed at the scars on Kring’s scalp and face.
‘A friend. We were discussing each others’ qualifications for leadership.’
