in Render, and Dolmant’s not very enthusiastic about a
second front.’ He paused. “I ran across something else,
though,’ he added. “I overheard a conversation I wasn’t
supposed to. The name Drychtnath came up. Do you
know anything about him?’
Kalten shrugged. ‘He was the national hero of the
Lamorks some three or four thousand years ago. They
say he was about twelve feet tall, ate an ox for breakfast
every morning and drank a hogshead of mead every
evening. The story has it that he could shatter rocks by
scowling at them and reach up and stop the sun with
one hand. The stories might be just a little bit exaggerated,
though.’
‘Very funny. The group I overheard were all telling
each other that he’s returned.’
‘That’d be a neat trick. I gather that his closest friend
killed him. Stabbed him in the back and then ran a spear
through his heart. You know how Lamorks are.’
‘That’s a strange name,’ Khalad noted. ‘What does it
mean?’
‘Drychtnath?’ Kalten scratched his head. “‘Dreadnought”,
I think. Lamork mothers do that sort of thing
to their children.’ He drained his cup and tipped his
flagon over it. A few drops came out. ‘Are we going to
be much longer at this?’ he asked. ‘if we’re going to sit
up talking all night, I’ll get more wine. To be honest
with you though, Sparhawk, I’d really rather go back to
my nice warm bed.’
‘And your nice warm chambermaid?’ Khalad added.
“She gets lonesome,’ Kalten shrugged. His face grew
serious. ‘if the Lamorks are talking about Drychtnath
again, it means that they’re starting to feel a little confined.
Drychtnath wanted to rule the world, and any
time the Lamorks start invoking his name, it’s a fair
indication that they’re beginning to look beyond their
borders for elbow room.’
Sparhawk pushed back his plate. “It’s too late at night
to start worrying about it now. Go back to bed, Kalten.
You too, Khalad. We can talk more about this tomorrow.
I really ought to go pay a courtesy call on my wife.’ He
stood up.
‘That’s all?’ Kalten said. ‘A courtesy call?’
‘There are many forms of courtesy, Kalten.’
The corridors in the palace were dimly illuminated by
widely-spaced candles. Sparhawk went quietly past the
throne-room to the royal apartments. As usual, Mirtai
dozed in a chair beside the door. Sparhawk stopped and
considered the Tamul giantess. When her face was in
repose, she was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Her skin
was golden in the candlelight, and her eyelashes were
so long that they touched her cheeks. Her sword lay in
her lap with her hand lightly enclosing its hilt.
‘Don’t try to sneak up on me, Sparhawk.’ She said it
without opening her eyes.
‘How did you know it was me?’
“I could smell you. All you Elenes seem to forget that
you have noses.’
‘How could you possibly smell me? I just took a bath.’
‘Yes. I noticed that too. You should have taken the
time to let the water heat up a little more.’
‘Sometimes you amaze me, do you know that?’
‘You’re easily amazed, Sparhawk.’ She opened her
eyes. ‘Where have you been? Ehlana’s been nearly
frantic.’
‘How is she?’
‘About the same. Aren’t you ever going to let her
grow up? I’m getting very tired of being owned by a
child.’ In Mirtai’s own eyes, she was a slave, the property
of the Queen Ehlana. This in no way hindered her
in ruling the royal family of Elenia with an iron fist,
arbitrarily deciding what was good for them and what
was not. She had brusquely dismissed all the queen’s
attempts to emancipate her, pointing out that she was
an Atan Tamul, and that her race was temperamentally
unsuited for freedom. Sparhawk tended strongly to
agree with her, since he was fairly certain that if she
were left to follow her instincts, Mirtai could depopulate
several fair-sized towns in short order.
She stood up, rising to her feet with exquisite grace.
She was a good four inches taller than Sparhawk, and
he felt again that odd sense of shrinking as he looked
up at her. ‘What took you so long?’ she asked him.
“I had to go to Lamorkand.’
‘Was that your idea? or somebody else’s?’
“Dolmant sent me.”
‘Make sure Ehlana understands that right from the
start. If she thinks you went there on your own, the
fight will last for weeks, and all that wrangling gets on
my nerves.’ She produced the key to the royal apartment
and gave Sparhawk a blunt, direct look. ‘Be very
attentive, Sparhawk. She’s missed you a great deal, and
she needs some tangible evidence of your affection. And
don’t forget to bolt the bedroom door. Your daughter
might be just a little young to be learning about certain
things.’ She unlocked the door.
‘Mirtai, do you really have to lock us all in every
night?’
‘Yes, I do. I can’t get to sleep until I know that none
of you is out wandering around the halls.’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he added, ‘Kring
was in Chyrellos. I imagine he’ll be along in a few days
to propose marriage to you again.’
“It’s about time,’ she smiled. “It’s been three months
since his last proposal. I was beginning to think he
didn’t love me any more.’
‘Are you ever going to accept him?’
‘We’ll see. Go wake up your wife, Sparhawk. I’ll let you out in the
morning.’ She gently pushed him on through the doorway and locked the door
behind him. Sparhawk’s daughter, Princess Danae, was curled up in a large
chair by the fire. Danae was six years old now. Her hair was very dark,
and her skin as white as milk. Her dark eyes were large, and her mouth a
small pink bow. She was quite the little lady, her manner serious and very
grown-up. Her constant companion, nonetheless, was a battered and
disreputable-looking stuffed toy animal named Rollo. Rollo had descended
to Princess Danae from her mother. As usual, Princess Danae’s little feet
had greenish grass-stains on them. ‘You’re late, Sparhawk,’ she said
flatly to her father. ‘Danae,’ he said to her, ‘you know you’re not supposed
to call me by name like that. If your mother hears you, she’s going
to start asking questions.’
‘She’s asleep,’ Danae shrugged.
‘Are you really sure about that?’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Of course I am.
I’m not going to make any mistakes. I’ve done this many, many times
before, you know. Where have you been?’
“I had to go to Lamorkand.’
‘Didn’t it occur to’ you to send word to mother? She’s been absolutely
unbearable for the last few weeks.’
“I know. Any number of people have already told me about it. I didn’t
really think I’d be gone for so long. I’m glad you’re awake. Maybe you can
help me with something. ‘
‘I’ll consider it – if you’re nice to me.’
‘Stop that. What do you know about Drychtnath?’
‘He was a barbarian, but he was’an Elene, after all, so it
was probably only natural.’
‘Your prejudices are showing.’
‘Nobody’s perfect. Why this sudden interest in ancient history?’
“There’s a wild story running through Lamorkand that Drychtnath’s returned.
They’re all sitting around sharpening swords with exalted expressions on
their faces. What’s the real significance of that?’
‘He was their king several thousand years ago. It was shortly after you
Elenes discovered fire and came out of your caves.’ ‘Be nice.’ ‘Yes,
father. Anyway, Drychtnath hammered all the Lamorks into something that
sort of resembled unity and then set out to conquer the world. The Lamorks
were very impressed with him. He worshipped the old Lamork Gods, though,
and your Elene Church was a little uncomfortable with the notion of a pagan
sitting on the throne of the whole world, so she had him murdered.’
‘The Church wouldn’t do that,’ he said flatly.
‘Did you want to listen to the story? or did you want to
argue theology? After Drychtnath died, the Lamork priests disembowelled a
few chickens and fondled their entrails in order to read the future. That’s
really a disgusting practice, Sparhawk. It’s so messy.’ She shuddered.
‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t think it up.’
“The “auguries”, as they called them, said that one day Drychtnath would
return to take up where he’d left off and that he’d lead the Lamorks to
world domination.’
“you mean they actually believe that?’
“They did once.’
“There are some rumours up there of backsliding reversion to the worship of
the old Pagan Gods.’
“It’s the sort of thing you’d expect. When a Lamork starts thinking about
Drychtnath, he automatically hauls the old Gods out of the closet. It’s so
foolish. Aren’t there enough real Gods for them?’
‘The old Lamork Gods aren’t real, then?’
‘Of course not. Where’s your mind, Sparhawk?’
‘The Troll-Gods are real. What’s the difference?’
‘There’s all the difference in the world, father. Any child can see that.’