Eddings, David – Tamuli – 02 – The Shining Ones

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

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