themselves will still be locked up inside Bhelliom. Their
spirits have always been free to roam around, except when
Bhelliom’s encased in gold – or steel. They have a certain limited
amount of power in that condition, I guess, but their real power’s
locked up with them inside the Bhelliom.’
‘Wouldn’t it be safer just to get them to agree to use that
limited power rather than to unleash them entirely?’ Vanion
asked.
“It wouldn’t work, dear one,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘The TrollGods
may encounter Cyrgon, and if they do, they’ll need their
full power.’
‘Moreover,’ Xanetia added, “I do strongly believe that they
will sense our need and bargain stringently.’
‘Are you going to do the talking, Sparhawk?’ Vanion asked.
Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Ulath knows Trolls – and the TrollGods better
than I do, and his Trollish is better than mine. I’ll
hold Bhelliom and call the Troll-Gods out and then let him do
the talking.’ He looked out the window. “It’s almost dawn,’ he
said. ‘We’d better get started. Ulath and Stragen are going to
meet us down in the courtyard.’
‘Turn your backs,’ Danae told them.
‘What?’ her father asked.
‘Turn around, Sparhawk. You don’t have to watch this.
“It’s one of her quirks,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘She doesn’t want
anybody to know what she really looks like.’
“I already know what Flute looks like.’
‘There’s a transition, Sparhawk. She doesn’t go directly from
Danae to Flute. She passes through her real person on the way
from one little girl to the other.’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘How many of her are there?’
‘Thousands, I’d imagine.’
‘That’s depressing. I’ve got a daughter I don’t really know.”
‘Don’t be silly,’ Danae said. ‘Of course you know me.’
‘But only one of you, a several thousandth part of who you
really are – such a tiny part.’ He sighed again and turned his
back.
“It’s not a tiny part, father.’ Danae’s voice changed as she
spoke, becoming richer, more vibrant. It was no longer a child’s
voice, but a woman’s.
There was a mirror on the far side of the room, a flat sheet of
polished brass. Sparhawk glanced at it and saw the wavering
reflection of a figure standing behind him. He quickly averted
his eyes.
‘Go ahead and look, Sparhawk. It’s not a very good mirror,
so you won’t see all that much.”
He raised his eyes and stared at the gleaming brass. The
reflection was distorted. About all he could really see was the
general size and shape. Aphrael was somewhat taller than
Sephrenia. Her hair was long and very dark, and her skin was
pale. Her face was hardly more than a blur in that imperfect
reflection, but he could see her eyes quite clearly for some
reason. There was an ageless wisdom in those eyes and a kind
of eternal joy and love. “I wouldn’t do this for just anybody,
Sparhawk,’ the woman’s voice told him, ‘but you’re the best
father I’ve ever had, so I’m stretching the rules for you.’
‘Don’t you wear any clothes?’ he asked her.
‘What on earth for? I don’t get cold, you know.
‘i’m talking about modesty, Aphrael. I am your father, after
all, and things like that are supposed to concern me.’
She laughed and reached around from behind him to caress
his face. It was not a little girl’s hand which touched his cheek.
He caught the faint scent of crushed grass, but the rest of the
familiar fragrance that lingered about both Danae and Flute had
been subtly changed. The person standing behind him was
definitely not a little girl.
‘is this the way you appear to the rest of your family?’ he
asked her.
‘Not very often. I prefer to have them think of me as a child.
I can get my own way a lot easier in that form – and I get a lot
more kisses.’
‘Getting your own way is very important to you, isn’t it,
Aphrael?’
‘Of course. It’s important to all of us, isn’t it? I’m just better
at it than most.’ She laughed, a deep, rich laugh. ‘i’m probably
the best there is at getting my own way.’
‘I’ve noticed that,’ he said dryly.
‘Well,’ she said then, ‘i’d love to talk more with you about it,
but I suppose we shouldn’t keep Ulath and Stragen waiting.’
The reflection wavered and began to shrink, sliding back into
childhood. ‘All right, then Flute’s familiar voice said, ‘let’s go
have it out with the Troll-Gods. ‘
It was blustery that morning, and dirty gray clouds scudded in
off the Tamul Sea. There were few citizens abroad in fire-domed
Matherion as Sparhawk and his friends rode out of the palace compound
and down the long, wide street leading to the west gate.
They left the city and rode up the long hill to the place from
which they had first glimpsed the gleaming city. ‘How do you
plan to approach them?’ Stragen asked Ulath as they crested the
hill.
‘Carefully,’ Ulath grunted. ‘i’d rather not get eaten. I’ve talked
with them before, so they probably remember me, and the fact
that Sparhawk’s holding Bhelliom in his fist may help to curb
their urge to devour me right on the spot.’
‘Any particular sort of place you’d like?’ Vanion asked him.
‘An open field – but not too open. I want trees nearby – so I
can climb one – in case things turn ugly.’ Ulath looked around
at the rest of them. ‘One word of caution,’ he added. ‘Don’t any
of you stand between me and the nearest tree once I get started.
‘Over there?’ Sparhawk suggested, pointing toward a pasture
backed by a pine grove.
Ulath squinted. “It’s not perfect, but no place really would be.
Let’s get this over with. My nerves are strung a little tight this
morning for some reason.’
They rode out into the pasture and dismounted. ‘is there anything
anyone would like to tell me before we start?’ Sparhawk
asked.
‘You’re on your own, Sparhawk,’ Flute replied. “It’s all up to
you and Ulath. We’re just here to observe.’
‘Thanks,’ he said dryly.
She curtsied. ‘Don’t mention it.’
Sparhawk took the box out from inside his tunic and touched
his ring to it. ‘Open,’ he told it.
The lid popped up.
‘Blue Rose,’ Sparhawk said, speaking in Elenic.
“I hear thee, Anakha.’ The voice came from Vanion’s lips
again.
“I feel the Troll-Gods within thee. Can they understand my
words when I speak in this tongue?’
‘Nay, Anakha.’
‘Good. Cyrgon hath by deceit and subterfuge lured the Trolls
here to Daresia and doth hurl them against our allies, the Atans.
We would attempt to persuade the Troll-Gods to re-assert their
authority over their creatures. Thinkest thou that they might be
willing to give hearing to our request?’
‘Any God listens most attentively to words concerning his
worshipers, Anakha.’
“I had thought such might be the case. Dost thou agree with
mine assessment that the knowledge that Cyrgon hath stolen
their Trolls will enrage them?’
‘They will be discomfited out of all measure, Anakha.’
‘How thinkest thou we might best proceed with them?’
‘Advise them in simple words of what hath come to pass.
Speak not too quickly nor with obscured meaning, for they are
slow of understanding.’
“I have perceived as much in past dealings with them.’
‘Wilt thou speak with them? I say this not in criticism, but thy
Trollish is rude and uncouth.”
‘Did you put that in, Vanion?’ Sparhawk accused.
‘Not me.’ Vanion protested his innocence. “I wouldn’t know
good Trollish from bad.’
‘Forgive mine ineptitude, Blue Rose. Mine instructor was in
haste when she schooled my tongue in the language of the manbeasts.’
‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia objected.
‘wel, weren’t you?’ He addressed the stone again. ‘My comrade,
Sir Ulath, hath greater familiarity with Trolls and their
speech than do I. It is he who will advise the Troll-Gods that
Cyrgon hath stolen their creatures.’
“I will bring forth their spirits that thy comrade may address
them.’ The stone pulsed in his hand, and the gigantic presences
Sparhawk had sensed in the Temple of Azash were there, but
this time they were in front of him where he could see them.
He fervently wished that he could not. Because their reality was
still locked inside the Bhelliom, their forms were suffused with
an azure glow. They bulked enormous before him, their brutish
faces enraged and their fury held in check only by the power of
Bhelliom.
‘All right, Ulath,’ Sparhawk said. ‘This is a dangerous situation.
Try to be very, very convincing.’
The big Genidian knight swallowed hard and stepped forward.
“I am Ulath-from-Thalesia,’ he said in Trollish. “I speak
for Anakha, Bhelliom’s child. I bring word of your children. Will
you hear me?’
‘Speak, Ulath-from-Thalesia.’ Sparhawk judged from the
crackling roar mingled in the enormous voice that it was Khwaj,
the Troll-God of Fire, who spoke.
Ulath’s face took on an expression of mild reproach. ‘We are