‘ ‘It’s not unheard of, your Majesty. Your own kingdom gives evidence of that. The great families in northern Tolnedra are still infuriated about the way the Borunes and Anadiles pulled a march on them and put Varana on the imperial throne. If something happens to Varana and he’s succeeded by a Vordue or a Honeth or a Horbite, all assurances go out the window. An alliance between Mal Zeth and Tol Honeth could be an absolute disaster for Murgo and Alorn alike. More than that, though, if such an alliance were kept a secret and you had Tblnedran legions in force here in Cthol Murgos and they received sudden instructions to change sides, you’d be caught between an army of Tolnedrans and an army of Malioreans. That isn’t my idea of a pleasant way to spend a summer.”
Urgit shuddered.
“Under the circumstances, your Majesty,” Javelin went on smoothly, “I’d advise the following course.” He began ticking items off on his fingers. “One: There’s a vastly diminished Mal-lorean presence here in Cthol Murgos. Two: An Alom force inside your borders would be neither necessary nor advisable. You have enough troops of your own to drive the Malioreans out, and we’d be ill-advised to risk any accidental confrontations between your people and ours. Three: The rather murky political situation in Tolnedra makes it extremely risky to contemplate bringing the legions down here.”
“Waitaminute, Khendon,” Urgit objected. “You came here to Rak Urga with all sorts of glowing talk about alliances and commonality of interests, but now when it’s time to put troops into the field, you back down. Why have you been wasting my time?”
‘ ‘The situation has changed since we began our negotiations, your Majesty,” Javelin told him. “We did not anticipate a Mal-lorean withdrawal of such magnitude, and we certainly didn’t expect instability in Tolnedra.”
‘ ‘What am / going to get out of this then?”
‘ ‘What is Kal Zakath likely to do the minute he gets word that you’re marching on his strongholds?”
“He’ll turn around and send his whole stinking army back to Cthol Murgos.”
“Through a Cherek fleet?” Javelin suggested. “He tried that after Thull Mardu, remember? King Anheg and his berserkers sank most of his ships and drowned his troops by the regiment.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Urgit mused. “Do you think Anheg
might be willing to blockade the east coast to keep Zakath’s army from returning?”
“I think he’d be delighted. Chereks take such childlike pleasure in sinking other people’s boats.”
‘ ‘He’d need charts in order to make his way around the southern tip of Cthol Murgos, though,” Urgit said thoughtfully.
Javelin coughed. “Ah—we already have those, your Majesty,” he said deprecatingly.
Urgit slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne. ‘ ‘Hang it all, Khendon! You’re here as an ambassador, not as a spy.”
“Just keeping in practice, your Majesty,” Javelin replied blandly. “Now,” he went on, “in addition to a Cherek fleet in the Sea of the East, we’re prepared to line the northern and western borders of Goska and the northwestern border of Araga with Algar cavalry and Drasnian pikemen. That would effectively cut off escape routes for the Malioreans trapped in Cthol Murgos, block Kal Zakath’s favorite invasion route down through Mishrak ac Thull, and seal off the Tolnedran legions in the event of an accommodation between Tol Honeth and Mal Zeth. That way, everybody defends more or less his own territory, and the Chereks keep the Mailoreans off the continent so that we can settle it all to our own satisfaction.”
“It also totally isolates Cthol Murgos.” Urgit pointed out the one fact that Javelin had hoped to gloss over. “I exhaust my kingdom pulling your chestnuts out of the fire, and then the Alorns, Tolnedrans, Arends, and Sendars are free to march in and eliminate the Angarak presence on the western continent.”
“You have the Nadraks and Thulls as allies, your Majesty.”
“I’ll trade you,” Urgit said dryly. “Give me the Arends and the Rivans, and I’ll gladly give you the Thulls and Nadraks.”
“I think it’s time for me to contact my government on these matters, your Majesty. I’ve already overextended my authority. I’ll need further instructions from Boktor.”
“Give Porenn my regards,” Urgit said, “and teil her that I join with her in wishing a mutual relative well.”
Javelin felt a lot less sure of himself as he left.
The Child of Dark had smashed all die mirrors in her quarters in the Grolim Temple at Balasa that morning. It had begun to touch her face now. Dimly she had seen the swirling lights beneath the skin of her cheeks and forehead and then had broken the mirror that had revealed the fact to her—and all the others, as well. When it was done, she stared in horror at the gash in
52
SEERESS OF KELL
KELL
the palm of her hand. The lights were even in her blood. Bitterly she recalled the wild joy that had filled her when she had first read the prophetic words: “Behold: the Child of Dark shall be exalted above all others and shall be glorified by the light of the stars.’ * But the light of the stars was no halo or glowing nimbus. The light was a creeping disease that encroached upon her inch by inch.
It was not only the swirling lights, however, that had begun to consume her. Increasingly her thoughts, her memories, and even her dreams were not her own. Again and again she awoke screaming as the same dream came again and again. She seemed to hang bodiless and indifferent in some unimaginable void, watching all unconcerned as a giant star spun and wobbled on its course, swelling and growing redder as it shuddered toward inevitable extinction. The random wobble of the off-center star was of no real concern until it became more and more pronounced. Then the bodiless and sexless awareness drifting in the void felt a prickle of interest and then a growing alarm. This was wrong. This had not been intended. And then it happened. The giant red star exploded in a place where that explosion was not supposed to happen; and, because it was in the wrong place, other stars were caught up in it. A vast, expanding ball of burning energy rippled outward, engulfing sun after sun until an entire galaxy had been consumed.
The awareness in the void felt a dreadful wrench within itself as the galaxy exploded, and for a moment it seemed to exist in more than one place. And then it was no longer one. “This must not be,” the awareness said in a soundless voice.
“Truly,” another soundless voice responded.
And that was the horror that brought Zandramas bolt upright and screaming in her bed night after night—the sense of another presence when always before there had been the perfect solitude of eternal oneness.
The Child of Dark tried to put those thoughts—memories, if you will—from her mind. There was a knock at the door of her chamber, and she pulled up the hood of her Grolim robe to hide her face. “Yes?” she said harshly.
The door opened, and the archpriest of this temple entered. “Naradas has departed, Holy Sorceress,” he reported. “You wanted to be told.”
“All right,” she said in a flat voice.
“A messenger has arrived from the west,” the Archpriest continued. “He brings news that a western Grolim, a Hierarch,
53
has landed on the barren west coast of Finda and now moves across Dalasia toward Kell.”
Zandramas felt a faint surge of satisfaction. “Welcome to Mallorea, Agachak,” she almost purred. “IVe been waiting for you.”
It was foggy that morning along the southern tip of the Isle of Verkat, but Gait was a fisherman and he knew the ways of these waters. He pushed out at first light, steering more by the smell of the land behind him and the feel of the prevailing current man by anything else. From time to time he would stop rowing, pull in his net, and empty the struggling, silver-sided fish into the large box beneath his feet. Then he would cast out his net again and resume his rowing while the fish he had caught thumped and flapped beneath him.
It was a good morning for fishing. Gart did not mind the fog. There were other boats out, he knew, but the fog created the illusion that he had the ocean to himself, and Gart liked that.
It was a slight change in the pull of the current on his boat that warned him. He hastily shipped his oars, leaning forward, and began to clang the bell mounted in the bow of his boat to warn the approaching ship that he was here.
And then he saw it. It was like no other ship Gart had ever seen before. It was long and it was big and it was lean. Its high bowsprit was ornately carved. Dozens of oars propelled it hissing through the water. There could be no mistaking the purpose for which that ship had been built. Gart shivered as the ominous vessel slid past.