‘Komier sent word to Ulath. It seems that the Trolls have all left
Thalesia.’
‘The Trolls!’ she exclaimed. ‘They wouldn’t do that! Thalesia’s their
ancestral home.’
‘Maybe you’d better go tell the Trolls about that. Komier swears that
there’s not a single one of them left in Thalesia.’
‘Something very, very strange is going on here, Sparhawk.’
‘Ambassador Oscagne said more or less the same thing. Can the Styrics
there at Sarsos make any sense out of it yet?’
‘No. Zalasta’s at his wits’ end.’
‘Have you come up with any idea at all of who’s behind it?’
‘Sparhawk, we don’t even know what’s behind it. We can’t even make a guess
about the species of whatever it is.’
‘We sort of keep coming back to the idea that it’s the Troll-Gods again.
Something had to have enough authority over the Trolls to command them to
leave Thalesia, and that points directly at the Troll Gods. Are we
absolutely sure that they haven’t managed to get loose?’
‘It’s not a good idea to discount any possibility when you’re dealing with
Gods, Sparhawk. I don’t know the spell Ghwerig used when he put them inside
the Bhelliom, so I don’t know if it can be broken.’
‘Then it is possible.’
That’s what I just said, dear one. Have you seen that shadow – or the cloud
– lately?’
‘No.’
‘Has Aphrael ever seen it?’
‘No.’
‘She could tell you, but I’d rather not have her exposed to whatever it
is. Perhaps we can come up with a way to lure it out when you get here so
that I can take a look at it. When are you leaving?’
‘First thing tomorrow morning. Danae sort of told me that she can play
with time the way she did when we were marching to Acie with Wargun’s army.
That would get us there faster, but can she do it as undetectably now as
she did when she was Flute?’ The beL behind the motionless form of his
daughter gave a deep, soft-toned sound. ‘Why don’t you ask me, Sparhawk?’
Danae’s voice hummed in the bell-sound. ‘it’s not as if I weren’t here, you
know.’
‘How was I supposed to know that?’ He waited. well?’ he asked the
still-humming bell. ‘Can you?’
‘well, of course I can, Sparhawk.’ The Child Goddess sounded irritated.
‘Don’t you know anything?’ That will do,’ Sephrenia chided. ‘He’s such a
lump.’
‘Aphrael. I said that will do. you will not be disrespectful to your
father.’ A faint smile touched the lips of the apparently somnolent little
princess. ‘Even if he is a hopeless lump.’
‘If you two want to discuss my failings, I’ll go back downstairs so you can
speak freely,’ Sparhawk told them.
‘No, that’s all right, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael said lightly. ‘we’re all
friends, so we shouldn’t have any secrets from each other.’
They left Chyrellos the following morning and rode south on the Arcian side
of the Sarin river in bright morning sunshine with one hundred Church
Knights in full armour riding escort. The grass along the riverbank was
very green, and the blue sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds. After
some discussion, Sparhawk and Ehlana had decided that the attendants she
would need for the sake of appearances could be drawn for the most part
from the ranks of the Church Knights. ‘Stragen can coach them,’ Sparhawk
had told his wife. ‘He’s had a certain amount of experience, so he can make
honest knights look like useless butterflies.’ It had been necessary,
however, to include one ladyin-waiting, Baroness Melidere, a young woman of
Ehlana’s own age with honey-blonde hair, deep blue eyes and an apparently
empty head. Ehlana also took along a personal maid, a doe-eyed girl named
Alcan. The two of them rode in the carriage with the Queen, Mirtai, Danae
and Stragen, who, dressed in his elegant best, kept them amused with light
banter. Sparhawk reasoned that between them, Stragen and Mirtai could
provide his wife and daughter with a fairly significant defence if the
occasion arose. Patriarch Emban was going to be a problem. Sparhawk could
see that after they had gone no more than a few miles. Emban was not
comfortable on a horse, and he filled the air with complaints as he rode.
‘That isn’t going to work, you know,’ Kalten observed about mid-morning.
‘Churchman or not, if the knights have to listen to Emban feel sorry for
himself all the way across the Daresian continent, he’s likely to have some
kind of an accident before we get to Matherion. I’m ready to drown him
right now myself, and the river’s very handy.’ Sparhawk thought about it.
He looked at the queen’s carriage. ‘That landau’s not quite big enough,’ he
told his friend. ‘I think we need something grander. Six horses are more
impressive than four anyway. See if you can find Bevier.’
When the olive-skinned Arcian rode forward, Sparhawk explained the
situation. ‘if we don’t get Emban off that horse, it’s going to take us a
year to cross daresia. Are you still on speaking terms with your cousin
Lycien?’
‘Of course. We’re the best of friends.’
‘why don’t you ride on ahead and have a chat with him? We need a large
carriage – roomy enough for eight with six horses probably. We’ll put Emban
and Ambassador Oscagne in the carriage with my wife and her entourage. Ask
your cousin to locate one for us.’
‘That might be expensive, Sparhawk,’ Bevier said dubiously. That’s all
right, Bevier. The Church will pay for it. After a week on horseback, Emban
should be willing to sign for anything that doesn’t wear a saddle. Oh, as
long as you’re going there anyway, have our ships moved upriver to Lycien’s
docks. Madel’s not so attractive a city that any of us would enjoy a stay
there all that much, and Lycien’s docks are more conveniently arranged.’
‘Do we need anything else, Sparhawk?’ Bevier asked. ‘Not that I can think
of. Feel free to improvise, ‘though. Add anything you can think of on your
way to Madel. ‘For once, we have a more or less unlimited budget at our
disposal. The coffers of the Church are wide open to us.’
‘I wouldn’t tell that to Stragen or Talen, my friend,’ Bevier laughed.
‘i’ll be at Lycien’s house. I’ll see you when you get there.’ He wheeled
his horse and rode south at a gallop. ‘Why didn’t you just have him pick up
another carriage for Emban and Oscagne?’ Kalten asked. ‘Because I don’t
want to have to defend two when we get to Tamuli.’
‘Oh. That makes sense – sort of.’ They arrived at the house of Sir
Bevier’s cousin the Marquis Lycien, late one afternoon, and met Bevier and
his stout, florid-faced kinsman in the gravelled court in front of Lycien’s
opulent home. The Marquis bowed deeply to the Queen of Elenia and insisted
that she accept his hospitality during her stay in Madel. Kalten dispersed
the knights in Lycien’s park-like grounds. ‘Did you find a carriage?’
Sparhawk asked Bevier. Bevier nodded. ‘It’s large enough for our purposes,’
he said a bit dubiously, ‘but the cost of it may turn Patriarch Emban’s
hair white.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s ask him.’ They crossed the
gravelled court to where the Patriarch of Ucera stood beside his horse,
clinging to his saddle-horn with a look of profound misery on his face.
‘Pleasant little ride, wasn’t it, your Grace?’ Sparhawk asked the fat man
brightly. Emban groaned. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for
a week.’
‘Of course we were only strolling,’ Sparhawk continued. ‘We’ll have to
move along much faster when we get to Tamuli.’ He paused. ‘May I speak
frankly, your Grace?’
‘You will anyway, Sparhawk,’ Emban said sourly. ‘Would you really pay any
attention to me if I objected?’
‘Probably not. You’re slowing us down, you know.’
‘Well, excuse me.’
‘You’re not really built for horseback riding, Patriarch Emban. Your
talent’s in your head, not your backside. Emban’s eyes narrowed with
hostility. ‘Go on,’ he
said in an ominous tone of voice. ‘Since we’re in a hurry, we’ve decided to
put wheels under you. Would you be more comfortable in a cushioned
carriage; your Grace?’
‘Sparhawk, I could kiss you!’
‘i’m a married man, your Grace. My’ wife might misunderstand. For security
reasons, one carriage is far better than two, so I’ve taken the liberty of
locating one that’s somewhat larger than the one Ehlana rode down from
Chyrellos. You wouldn’t mind riding with her, would you? We thought we’d
put you and Ambassador Oscagne in the carriage with my queen and her
attendants. Would that be satisfactory?’
‘Did you want me to kiss the ground you’re standing on, Sparhawk?’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary, your Grace. All you really have to do is
sign the authorisation for the carriage. This is urgent Church business,
after all, so the purchase of the carriage is fully justified, wouldn’t you