moved my eyes, it was never where I could see it directly. It felt as if it
were standing just behind my head.’ Emban nodded. ‘And it made me feel
cold.’ He shuddered. ‘i’m still cold, as a matter of fact.’
‘It was unfriendly, too,’ Kalten added. ‘Not quite ready to attack, but
very nearly.’
‘Anything else?’ Sparhawk asked them. ‘Anything at all – no matter how
small.’
‘There was a peculiar odour,’ Oscagne told him. Sparhawk looked at him
sharply. He had never noticed that. ‘Could you describe it at all, your
Excellency?’
‘I seemed to catch the faintest smell of tainted meat a haunch or a side
that had been left hanging for perhaps a week too long.’ Kalten grunted. ‘I
caught that too, Sparhawk just for a second, and it left a very bad taste
in my mouth.’ Emban nodded vigorously. ‘i’m an expert on flavours. It was
definitely rotten meat.’
‘We were sort of standing in a semi-circle,’ Sparhawk mused, ‘and we all
saw – or sensed – it right behind us. Did any of you see it behind anybody
else?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Would you please explain this,
Sparhawk?’ Emban said irritably. ”In just a moment, your Grace.’ Sparhawk
crossed the deck to a sailor who was splicing a loop into the bight of a
rope. He spoke with the tar-smeared man for a few minutes and then
returned. ‘He saw it too,’ he reported. ‘Let’s spread out and talk with the
rest of the sailors on deck. I’m not being deliberately secretive,
gentlemen, but let’s get what information we can from the sailors before
they forget the incident entirely. I’d like to know just how widespread
this visitation was.’ It was about a half hour later when they gathered
again near the aft companionway, and they had all begun to exhibit a kind
of excitement. ‘One of the sailors heard a kind of crackling noise like a
large fire,’ Kalten reported. ‘I talked to one fellow, and he thought there
was a kind of reddish tinge to the shadow,’ Oscagne added. ‘No,’ Emban
disagreed. ‘It was green. The sailor I talked with said that it was
definitely green.’
‘And I spoke with a man who’d just come up on deck, and he hadn’t seen or
felt a thing,’ Sparhawk added. This is all very interesting, Sir Sparhawk,’
Oscagne said, ‘but could you please explain it to us?’
‘Kalten already knows, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It would
appear that we’ve just been visited by the Troll-Gods.’
‘Be careful, Sparhawk,’ Emban warned, ‘you’re walking on the edge of
heresy.’
‘The Church Knights are permitted to do that, your Grace. Anyway, that
shadow’s followed me before, and Ehlana’s seen it too. We’d assumed it was
because we were wearing the rings. The stones in the rings were fashioned
from shards of the Bhelliom. The shadow seems to be a little less selective
now.’
‘That’s all it is? just a shadow?’ Oscagne asked him. Sparhawk shook his
head. ‘It can also show up as a very dark cloud, and everybody can see
that.’
‘But not the things that are concealed in it,’ Kalten added. ‘Such as
what?’ Oscagne asked. Sparhawk gave Emban a quick sidelong glance. ‘It
would start an argument, your Excellency, and we don’t really want to spend
the morning in a theological debate, do we?’
‘i’m not all that doctrinaire, Sparhawk,’ Emban protested. ‘What would be
your immediate response if I told you
that humans and Trolls are related, your Grace?’
‘i’d have to investigate the condition of your soul.’
‘Then I’d probably better not tell you the truth about our cousins,
wouldn’t you say? Anyway, Aphrael told us that the shadow – and later the
cloud – were manifestations of the Troll-Gods.’
‘Who’s Aphrael?’ Oscagne asked. ‘We had a tutor in the Styric arts when we
were novices, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘Aphrael is her
Goddess. We thought that the cloud was somehow related to Azash, but we
were wrong about that. The reddish colour and the heat ‘that one sailor
sensed was Khwaj, the God of Fire. The greenish colour and that rotten
meat-smell was Ghnomb, the God of Eat.’ Kalten was frowning. ‘I thought it
was just one of those things you might expect from sailors,’ he said, ‘but
one fellow told me that he had some rather overpowering thoughts about
women while the shadow was lurking behind him. Don’t the Trolls have a God
of maiting?’
‘I think so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Ulath would know.’
‘This is all very interesting, Sir Sparhawk,’ Oscagne said dubiously) but
I don’t quite see its relevance.’
‘You’ve . been encountering supernatural incidents that seem to be
connected to the turmoil in Tamuli, your Excellency. There’s almost exactly
the same sort of disturbances cropping up in Lamorkand, and the same Sort
of unnatural events accompanying them. We were questioning a man who knew
some things about it once, and the cloud engulfed him and killed him before
he could talk. That strongly suggests some kind of connection. The shadow
may have been present in Tamuli as well, but no one would have recognised
it for what it really is.’
‘Zalasta was right then,’ Oscagne murmured. ‘You are the man for this
job.’
‘The Troll-Gods are following you again, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said. ‘What is
this strange fascination they seem to have with you? We can probably
discount your looks – but then again, maybe not. They’re used to Trolls,
after all.’ Sparhawk looked meaningfully at the ship rail. ‘How would you
like to run alongside the ship for a while, Kalten?’
‘No, that’s all right, Sparhawk. I got all the exertion I need for the day
when Mirtai decided to use me for a rug.’ The wind held, and the sky
remained clear. They rounded the southern tip of Zemoch and sailed up the
east coast in a northeasterly direction. Once, when Sparhawk and his
daughter were standing in the bow, he decided to satisfy a growing
curiosity. ‘How long have we actually been at sea, Danae?’ he asked her
directly. ‘five days,’ she replied. ‘It seems like two weeks or more.’
‘Thank you, father. Does that answer your question about how well I can
manage time?’
‘We certainly haven’t eaten as much in five days as we would have in two
weeks. Won’t our cooks get suspicious?’
‘Look behind us, father. Why do you suppose all those fish are gleefully
jumping out of the water? And what are all those seagulls doing following
us?’
‘Maybe they’re feeding.’
‘Very perceptive, Sparhawk, but what could possibly be out there for that
many of them to eat? Unless, of course, somebody’s been throwing food to
them off the aft deck.’
‘When do you do that?’
‘At night,’ she shrugged. ‘The fish are terribly grateful. I think they’re
right on the verge of worshipping me.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve never been
worshipped by fish before, and I don’t really speak their language very
well. It’s mostly bubbles. Can I have a pet whale?’
‘No. You’ve already got a kitten.’
‘I’ll pout.’
‘It makes you look silly, but go ahead if you feel like it. ‘
‘Why can’t I have a whale?’
‘Because they can’t be housebroken. They don’t make good pets.’
‘That’s a ridiculous answer, Sparhawk.’
‘It was a ridiculous request, Aphrael.’
The port of Salesha at the head of the Gulf of Daconia was an ugly city
that reflected the culture which had prevailed in Zemoch for nineteen
hundred years. The Zemochs appeared to be confused by what had happened in
their capital six years before. No matter how often they were assured that
Otha and Azash were no more, they still tended to start violently at sudden
loud noises, and they generally reacted to any sort of surprise by running
away. ‘i’d strongly advise that we spend the night on board our ships, your
Majesty,’ Stragen advised the queen after he had made a brief survey of the
accommodations available in the city. ‘I wouldn’t kennel dogs in the finest
house in Salesha.’
‘That bad?’ she asked. ‘Worse, my Queen.’ And so they stayed on board and
set out early the following morning. The road they followed north was truly
bad, and the cariage in which the queen and her entourage rode jolted and
creaked as their column wound up into the low range of mountains lying
between the coast and the town of Basne. After they had been travelling for
no more than an hour, Talen rode forward. As the queen’s page, it was , one
of the boy’s duties to carry messages for her. Talen was not alone on his
horse this time, however. Sparhawk’s daughter rode behind him, her arms
about his waist and her cheek resting against his back. ‘She wants to ride
with you,’ Talen told Sparhawk. ‘your wife, Emban and the ambassador are
talking politics. The princess kept yawning in their faces until the queen
gave her permission to get out of the carriage.’ Sparhawk nodded. The