Eddings, David – Tamuli – 02 – The Shining Ones

‘They’re killing my children, Sephrenia!’ ~APhrael wailed. ‘All

over Eosia the Elenes are killing my children! I want to die!’

‘We have to go to Sarsos,’ Sephrenia said to Sparhawk and

Vanion a short while later when the three of them were alone.

“I have to talk with the Thousand.’

“I know that it’s breaking her heart,’ Vanion said, ‘but it can’t

really hurt her, can it?’

“It could kill her, Vanion. The younger Gods are so totally

involved with their worshipers that their very lives depend

on them. Please, Sparhawk, ask Bhelliom to take us to Sarsos

immediately. ‘

Sparhawk nodded bleakly and took out the box and touched

his ring to the lid. ‘Open!’ He said it more sharply than he’d

intended.

The lid snapped up.

‘Blue Rose,’ Sparhawk said, ‘a crisis hath arisen. The Child

Goddess is made gravely ill by reason of the murder of her

worshipers in far-off Eosia. We must at once to Sarsos that

Sephrenia might consult with the Thousand of Styricum regarding

a cure.’

“It shall be as thou dost require, Anakha.’ The words came

from Vanion’s mouth. The Preceptor’s expression turned

slightly uncertain. ‘is it proper for me to tell thee that I feel

sympathy for thee and thy mate for this illness of thine only

child?’

“I do appreciate thy kind concern, Blue Rose.’

‘My concern doth not arise merely from kindness, Anakha

Twice hath the gentle hand of the Child Goddess touched me,

and even I am not proof against the subtle magic of her touch.

For the love we all bear her, let us away to Sarsos that she may

be made whole again.’

The world seemed to shift and blur, and the three of them

found themselves outside the marble-sheathed council hall in

Sarsos. Autumn was further along here, and the birch forest

lying on the outskirts Of the city was ablaze with color.

‘You two wait here,’ Sephrenia told them. ‘Let’s not stir

up the hot-heads by marching Elenes into the council chamber

again.’

Sparhawk nodded and opened Bhelliom’s golden case to put

the jewel away.

‘nay, Anakha,’ Bhelliom told him, still speaking through

Vanion’s lips. “I would know how Sephrenia’s proposal is

received.’

‘An it please thee, Blue Rose,’ Sparhawk replied politely.

Sephrenia went on inside.

“It’s cooler here,’ Vanion noted pulling his cloak a little tighter

about him.

‘Yes,’ Sparhawk agreed. “It’s farther north.’

‘That more or less exhausts the weather as a topic. quit worrying,

Sparhawk. Sephrenia has a great deal of influence with the

Thousand. I’m sure they’ll agree to help.’

They waited as the minutes dragged by.

It was probably half an hour later when Sparhawk felt a sharp

surge, almost a shudderr pass through Bhelliom. ‘Come with

me, Anakha.’ Vanion’s voice was sharp, abrupt. ‘What is it?’

‘The Styric love of endless talk discontents me. I must needs

go past the Thousand to the Younger Gods themselves. These

babblers do talk away the life of Aphrael.’ Sparhawk was a bit

surprised by the vehemence in Vanion’s voice. He followed as

his Preceptor, walking in a gait that was peculiarly not his own,

stormed into the building. The bronze doors to the council

chamber may have been locked. The screech of tortured metal

that accompanied Vanion’s abrupt opening of them suggested

that they had been, at any rate.

Sephrenia was standing

before the council pleading for aid when Vanion came

through the door.

‘We don’t allow Elenes in here!’ one of the council members

on a back bench shrieked in Styric, rising to his feet and waving

his arms.

Then a sort of strangled silence filled the chamber. Vanion

began to swell, spreading upward and outward into enormity

even as an intensely blue aura flickered brighter and brighter

around him. Flickers of lightning surged through that aura, and

ripping peals of thunder echoed shockingly back from the

marble-clad walls. Sephrenia stared at Vanion in sudden awe.

Prompted by an unvoiced suggestion which only he could

hear, Sparhawk raised the glowing Sapphire Rose. ‘Behold Bhelliom!’

he roared. ‘And hearken unto its mighty voice!’

‘Hear my words, ye Thousand of Styricum!’ The voice coming

from the enormity which a moment before had been Vanion

was vast. It was a voice to which mountains would listen and

which waves and torrents would stop at once to hear. “I would

speak with your Gods! Too small are ye and too caught up in

endless babble to consider this matter!’

Sparhawk winced. Diplomacy, he saw, was not one of

Bhelliom’s strong suits.

One of the white-robed councillors drew himself up, spluttering

indignantly. ‘This is outrageous! We don’t have to…’ He

was suddenly gone, and in his place stood a confused-looking

personage who appeared to have been interrupted in the middle

of his bath. Naked and dripping, he gaped at the huge, bluelighted

presence and at the glowing jewel in Sparhawk’s hand.

‘Well, really…’ he protested.

‘Setras,’ the profound voice said sharply. ‘How deep is thy

love for thy cousin Aphrael?’

‘This is most irregular,’ the youthful God protested.

‘How deep is thy love?’ The voice was inexorable.

“I adore her, naturally. We all do, but… ‘

‘What wouldst thou give to save her life?’

‘Anything she asks, of course, but how could her life be in

danger?’

‘Thou knowest that Zalasta of Styricum is a traitor dost thou

not?’

There were gasps from the council.

‘Aphrael said so,’ the God replied, ‘but we thought she might

have been a little excited. You know how she is sometimes.’

‘She told thee truly, Setras. Even now do Zalasta’s minions

slaughter her worshipers in far-off Eosia. With each death is

she made less. If this be permitted to continue, soon she will be

no more.’

The God Setras stiffened, his eyes suddenly blazing. ‘Monstrous!’

‘What wilt thou give that she may live?’

‘Mine own life, if need be,’ Setras replied with archaic formalism.

‘Wilt thou lend her of thine own worshipers?’

Setras stared at the glowing Bhelliom, his face filled with

chagrin.

‘Quickly, Setras! Even now doth the life of Aphrael ebb away!’

The God drew in a deep breath. ‘There is no alternative?’ he

asked plaintively.

‘None. The life of the Child Goddess is sustained only by love.

Give her the love of certain of thy children for a time that she

may be made whole again.’

Setras straightened. “I will,’ he declared. ‘Though it doth rend

mine heart.’ A determined look crossed that divine face. ‘And

I do assure thee, World-Maker, that mine shall not be the only

children who will sustain the life of our beloved cousin with

their love. All shall contribute equally.’

‘Done, then.’ bhelliom seemed fond of that exPression.

‘Ah…’ Setras said then, his tone slightly worried and his

speech slipping into less formal colloquialism. ‘She will give

them back, won’t she?’

‘Thou hast mine assurance, Divine Setras,’ Sephrenia

promised with a smile.

The Younger God looked relieved. Then his eyes narrowed

slightly. ‘Anakha,’ he said crisply.

‘Yes, Divine One?’

‘Measures must be taken to protect Aphrael’s remaining children.

How might that best be accomplished?’

‘Advise them to go to the chapterhouses of the Knights of the

Church of Chyrellos,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘There will they be kept

from all harm.’

‘And who doth command these knights?’

‘Archprelate Dolmant, I suppose,’ Sparhawk replied doubtfully.

“It is he who doth exercise ultimate authority.’

“I will speak with him. Where may I find him?’

‘He will be in the Basilica in Chyrellos, Divine One.’

“I will go there and seek him out that we may consult together

regarding this matter.’

Sparhawk nearly choked on the theological implications of

that particular announcement. Then he looked somewhat more

closely at Sephrenia’s face. She was still regarding Vanion with

a certain amount of awe. Then, so clearly that he could almost

hear the click in her mind, Sephrenia made a decision. Her

whole face, her entire being, announced it louder than words.

‘Ulath,’ Kalten said irritably, ‘pay attention. You’ve been woolgathering

for the past two weeks. What’s got you so distracted?’

“I don’t like the reports we’ve been getting back from Atan,’

the big Genidian replied, shifting the Princess Danae, rollo and

Mmrr around in his lap. The little princess had been confined

to her room for ten days by her illness, and this was her first

day back among them. She was engaging in one of her favorite

pastimes – lap-switching. Sparhawk knew that most of his

friends really didn’t pay that much attention, responding automatically

to her mute, wan little appeals to be picked up and

held. In actuality, however, Aphrael, with toy and with cat, was

very busily going from lap to lap to re-establish contact with

those who might have drifted out of her grasp during her illness.

As always, there were kisses involved, but those kisses were

not really the spontaneous little demonstrations of affection they

seemed. Aphrael could change minds and alter moods with a

touch. With a kiss, however, she could instantly take possession

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