have discovered, were powerless by reason of their lack of worshipers.
The Troll-Gods were confined, and the Elene God was
inaccessible, as was Edaemus of the Delphae. The Tamul Gods
were too frivolous, and the God of the Atans too inhospitable
to save all his own children. That left only Cyrgon, and Zalasta
and his cohorts did immediately perceive a means by which he
might strike a bargain with the God of the Cyrgai. With Bhelliom,
might Cyrgon lift the Styric curse which confined his chil-dren
and unleash them upon the world. In return, Zalasta
believed, might Cyrgon be persuaded to permit him to use
Bhelliom to destroy Aphrael, or, at the very least, to raiSe it
against Aphrael with his own divine hand.’
“it would have been a reasonable basis for opening negotiations,’
Oscagne conceded. ‘i’d take that kind of bargain to the
table and expect a hearing at least.’
‘Perhaps,’ Itagne said dubiously, ‘but you’d have to live long
enough to get to the table first. I don’t imagine that the appearance
of a Styric in Cyrga would have moved the population
there to enthusiastic demonstrations of welcome.’
“it was in truth a perilous undertaking, Itagne of Matherion.
By diverse means did Zalasta gain entrance into the Temple of
Cyrgon in the heart of the hidden city, and there did he confront
the blazing spirit of Cyrgon himself, and there did he stay the
God’s vengeful hand with his offer of the liberation of the Cyrgai.
The enemies at once became allies by reason of their mutual
desires, and concluded they that Anakha must be lured to Daresia,
for in no wise would they risk confrontation with the God
of the Elenes, whose power, derived from his countless worshipers,
is enormous. Conceived they then their involuted plan
to disrupt all of Tamuli by insurrection and by apparition so that
the imperial government must seek aid, and Zalasta’s position
of trust would easily enable him to direct the attention of the
government to Anakha and to suggest accommodation with the
Church of Chyrellos. The apparitions to be raised were no great
chore for Zalasta of Styricum and his outcast comrades, nor was
the deceit whereby Cyrgon persuaded the Trolls that their Gods
had commanded them to march across the polar ice to the north
coast of Tamuli an impossible task for the God of the Cyrgai.
More central to their plans, however, were the insurrections
which have so sorely marred the peace of Tamuli in recent years.
Insurrection, to be successful, must be tightly controlled. Spontaneous
uprisings seldom succeed. history had persuaded Zalasta
that central to the success of their plan would be the character
and personality of him who would unite the diverse populations
of the kingdoms of the Tamul Empire and fire them with his
force and zeal. Zalasta did not have far to seek in order to find
such an one. Straightway upon his departure from Cyrga, did
he journey to Arjuna, and there presented he his plan to one
known as Scarpa.’
‘Hold it,’ Stragen objected. ‘Zalasta’s plan involved high
treason at the very least. It probably involved crimes they
haven’t even named as yet – “consorting with ye powers of
Darknesse” and the like. How did he know he could trust
Scarpa?’
‘He had every reason, Stragen of Emsat,’ she replied. ‘Zalasta
knew that he could trust Scarpa as he could trust none other on
life. Scarpa, you see, is Zalasta’s own son.’
PART THREE
Xanetia
chapter 21
Sephrenia sat alone on the bed in her room. Her self-imposed
isolation, she sadly concluded, would probably continue for the
rest of her life. She had spoken in anger and haste, and this
empty solitude was the consequence. She sighed.
Sephrenia of Ylara. It was strange that both Xanetia and Codon
had reached into the past for that archaic name, and stranger
still that it should touch her heart so deeply.
Ylara had not been much of a village, even by Styric standards.
Styrics had long sought to divert the hostility of Elenes by posing
as the poorest of the poor, living in hovels and wearing garments
of the roughest home-spun. But Ylara, with its single muddy
street and clay and wattle huts, had been home. Sephrenia’s
childhood there had been filled with love, and that love had
reached its culmination with the birth of her sister. At the
moment of Aphrael’s birth, Sephrenia had found at once fulfilment
and life-long purpose.
The memory of that small, rude village and of its warmth and
all-encompassing love had sustained her through dark days.
Ylara, glowing in her memories, had always been a refuge to
which she could retreat when the world and all its ugliness
pressed in around her.
But now it was gone. Zalasta’s treachery had forever fouled
and profaned her most precious memories. Now, whenever she
remembered Ylara, Zalasta’s face intruded itself; and the feigned
affection that had seemed to mark it was a cruel lie. She now
saw his face for what it truly was – a mask of deceit and luSt
and a vile hatred for the Child Goddess who was at the core of
Sephrenia’s very being. Her memories had preserved Ylara, the revelation of
Zalasta’scorrupt duplicity had forever destroyed it.
Sephrenia buried her face in her hands and wept.
Sparhawk and Vanion found Princess Danae brooding alone in
a large chair in a darkened room. ‘No,’ she replied emphatically
to their urgent request, ‘I will not interfere.’
‘Aphrael,’ Vanion pleaded with tears standing in his eyes, ‘it’s
killing her.’
‘Then she’ll just have to die. I can’t help her. She has to do
this by herself. If I tamper in any way at all, it won’t mean
anything to her, and I love her too much to coddle her and steal
away the significance of what she’s suffering.’
‘You don’t mind if we try to help her, do you?’ Sparhawk
asked her tartly.
‘You can try if you want – as long as you don’t use Bhelliom.’
‘You’re a very cruel little girl, did you know that? I didn’t
really intend to raise a monster.’
‘You’re not going to change my mind by calling me names,
Sparhawk – and don’t try to sneak around behind my back,
either. You can hold her hand or give her flowers or kiss her
into insensibility if you want, but leave the Bhelliom right where
it is. Now go away and leave me alone. I’m not enjoying this.’
And she curled up in her chair with her arms tightly wrapped
around the battered rollo and a look of ancient pain in her dark,
luminous eyes.
‘Zalasta’s been interfering with us for a long time, hasn’t he,
Anarae?’ Bevier asked the following morning when they had
gathered once again in the blue-draped sitting room. They all
wore more casual clothing now, and the long table against the
far wall was set with a breakfast buffet. Queen Ehlana had discovered
a long time ago that meals did not necessarily have to
interfere with important matters. Bevier’s blue doublet was open
at the front, and he was sunk low in his chair with his legs
stretched out in front of him. ‘if he’s been behind that shadow
and the cloud, that would almost have to mean that he was
involved in the Zemoch war, wouldn’t it?’
Xanetia nodded. ‘Zalasta’s scheming is centuries old, Sir
Knight. His passion for Sephrenia dates back to his childhood,
as doth his hatred for Aphrael, whose birth did dash all his
hopes. Well he knew that should he confront the Child Goddess
directly, she could will away his very existence with a single
thought. He knew that his lust was unwholesome, and that no
God would be inclined to aid him in his struggle with Aphrael.
Long he pondered this, and he concluded that his design
required aid from some source with power, but without conscience
or will of its own.’
‘Bhelliom,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Or at least that’s how everyone
saw it. We know differently now.’
‘Truly,’ she agreed. ‘Zalasta did share the common misperception
of the jewel, thinking it to be a source of power only. He
did believe that Bhelliom, untouched by morality, would obey
him without question, and that it would destroy his mortal
enemy and thus he could come to possess his heart’s lust – for
mistake me not, Zalasta sought possession of Sephrenia, not her
love.’
‘That’s vile,’ Baroness Melidere said with a shudder.
Xanetia nodded her agreement. ‘Zalasta knew that he must
needs have the rings to command the Sapphire Rose,’ she went
on, ‘but all of Styricum knew that the nimble Child Goddess
herself had purloined the rings from Ghwerig the Troll-dwarf
to prevent the misshapen creature from raising Bhelliom ‘against
the Styrics. Thus did Zalasta feign continuing friendship for
Sephrenia and her sister, hoping to gain knowledge of the location
of the rings and thus the keys to Bhelliom. Now the Gods
had known, and some few humans as well, that one day Bhelliom’s