stared down at the square lying between the ruins of the temple
and the only slightly less ruined palace.
The sun was above the eastern horizon now, and it filled the
ancient streets of Cyrga with harsh, unforgiving light. The
Queen of Elenia was exhausted, but the ordeal of her captivity
was over, and she yearned only to lose herself in her husband’s
embrace. She did not understand much of what she had just
witnessed, but that was not really important. She stood at the
battlements holding the Child Goddess in her arms, gazing
down at her invincible champion far below.
‘Do you think it might be safe for us to go down?’ she asked
the small divinity in her arms.
‘The stairway’s blocked, Ehlana,’ Mirtai reminded her.
‘I can take care of that,’ Flute said.
‘Maybe we’d better stay up here,’ Bevier said with a worried
frown. ‘Cyrgon and klael are gone, but Zalasta’s still out there
somewhere. He might try to seize the Queen again so that he
can use her to bargain his way out of here.’
‘He’d better not,’ the Child Goddess said ominously. ‘Ehlana’s
right. Let’s go down.’
They went back inside, reached the head of the stairs and
peered down through billowing clouds of dust. ‘What did you
do?’ Talen asked Flute. ‘Where did all the rocks go?’
She shrugged. ‘I turned them into sand,’ she replied.
The stairway wound downward along the inside of the tower
walls. Kalten and Bevier, swords in hand, led the way, prudently
investigating each level as they reached it. The top three
or four levels were empty, but as they began the descent to a
level about midway down the inside of the tower, Xanetia hissed
sharply, ‘Someone approaches!’
‘Where?’ Kalten demanded. ‘How many?’
‘Two, and they do mount the stairs toward us. ‘
‘i’ll deal with them,’ he muttered, gripping his sword-hilt even
more tightly.
‘Don’t do anything foolish,’ Alcan cautioned.
‘It’s the fellows coming up the stairs who are being foolish,
love. Stay with the Queen.’ He started on ahead.
‘i’ll go with him,’ Mirtai said. ‘Bevier, it’s your turn to guard
Ehlana.’
‘But
‘Hush!’ she commanded. ‘Do as you’re told.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he surrendered with a faint smile.
A murmured sound of voices came echoing up the stairs.
‘Santheocles.’ Ehlana identified one of the speakers in a short,
urgent whisper.
‘And the other?’ Xanetia asked.
‘Ekatas.”
‘Ah,’ Xanetia said. Her pale brow furrowed in concentration.
‘This is not exact,’ she apologized, ‘but it seemeth me that they
are unaware of thy release, Queen of Elenia, and they do rush
to thy former prison, hoping that by threatening thy life might
they gain safe conduct through the ranks of their enemies.’
There was a landing perhaps twenty steps down the narrow
stairway, and Kalten and Mirtai stopped there, stepping somewhat
apart to give themselves room.
Santheocles, wearing his gleaming breastplate and crested
helmet, came bounding up the stairs two at a time with his
sword in his hand. He stopped suddenly when he reached the
landing, staring at Kalten and Mirtai in stupefied disbelief. He
waved his sword at them and issued a peremptory command
in his own language.
‘What did he say?’ Talen demanded.
‘He ordered them to get out of his way,’ Aphrael replied.
‘Doesn’t he realize that they’re his enemies?’
“‘Enemy” is a difficult concept for someone like Santheocles,
Ehlana told him. ‘He’s never been outside the walls of Cyrga,
and I doubt that he’s seen more than ten people who weren’t
Cyrgai in his entire life. The Cyrgai obey him automatically, so
he hasn’t had much experience with open hostility.’
Ekatas came puffing up the stairs behind Santheocles. His
eyes were wide with shock and his wrinkled face ashen. He
spoke sharply to his king, and Santheocles placidly stepped
aside. Ekatas drew himself up and began speaking sonorously,
his hands moving in the air before him.
‘Stop him!’ Bevier cried. ‘He’s casting a spell!’
‘He’s trying to cast a spell,’ Aphrael corrected. ‘I think he’s in
for a nasty surprise.’
The High Priest’s voice rose in a long, slow crescendo and he
suddenly leveled one arm at Kalten and Mirtai.
Nothing happened.
Ekatas held his empty hand up in front of his face, gaping at
it in utter astonishment.
‘Ekatas,’ Aphrael called sweetly to him, ‘I hate to be the bearer
of bad tidings, but now that Cyrgon’s dead, your spells won’t
work any more.’
He stared up at her, comprehension and recognition slowly
dawning on his face. Then he spun and bolted through the
door on the left side of the landing and slammed it behind
him.
Mirtai moved quickly after him. She briefly tried the door,
then stepped back and kicked it to pieces.
Kalten advanced on the sneering King of the Cyrgai. Santheocles
struck a heroic pose, his oversized shield extended, his
sword raised, and his head held high.
‘He’s no match for Kalten,’ Bevier said. ‘Why doesn’t he run?’
‘He doth believe himself invincible, Sir Bevier,’ Xanetia
replied. ‘He hath slain many of his own soldiers on the practice-field,
and thus considers himself the paramount warrior in all
the world. In truth, however, his subordinates would not strike
back or even defend themselves, because he was their king.’
Kalten, grim-faced and vengeful, fell on the feeble-minded
monarch like an avalanche. The face of Santheocles was filled
with shock and outrage as, for the first time in his life, someone
actually raised a weapon against him.
It was a short, ugly fight, and the outcome was quite predictable.
Kalten battered down the oversized shield, parried a couple
of stiffly formal swings at his head and then buried his sword
up to the hilt in the precise center of the burnished breastplate.’
Santheocles stared at him in sheer astonishment. Then he
sighed, toppled backward off the blade, and clattered limply
back down the stairs.
‘Yes!’ Ehlana exulted in a savage voice as the most offensive
of her persecutors died.
From beyond the splintered door came a long, despairing
scream fading horribly away, and Mirtai emerged with an
expression of bleak satisfaction.
‘What did you do to him?’ Kalten asked curiously.
‘I defenestrated him,’ she replied with a shrug.
‘Mirtai!’ he gasped. ‘That’s aWfUl!’
She gave him a baffled look. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘That’s a terrible thing to do to a man!’
‘Throw him out of a window? I can think of much worse
things to do to somebody.’
‘is that what that word means?’
‘Of course. Stragen used to talk about it back in Matherion.’
‘Oh.’ Kalten flushed slightly.
‘What did you think it meant?’
‘Ah – never mind, Mirtai. just forget I said anything.’
‘You must have thought it meant something.’
!. ‘Can we just drop it? I misunderstood, that’s all.’ He looked
up at the others. ‘Let’s go on down,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t think
there’ll be anybody else in our way.’
Ehlana suddenly burst into tears. ‘I can’t!’ she wailed. ‘I can’t
face Sparhawk like this!’ She Put one hand on the wimPle that
%f” corv’tioeeodrohsueorsavtwiUfywaJJt)oerdrysjcnaglpabout thai?’ Aphrael asked
k”‘ Aphrael rolled her eyes upward. ‘Let’s go into that room,’ she
t suggested. ‘i’ll fix it for you – if it’s so important.’
‘Could you?’ Ehlana asked eagerly.
‘Of course.’ The Child Goddess squinted at her. ‘Would you
like to have me change the color?’ she asked. ‘Or maybe make
it curly?’
The Queen pursed her lips. ‘Why don’t we talk about that a
little?’ she said.
The Cynesgans who manned the outer wall of the Hidden City
were not particularly good troops in the first place, and when
the Trolls came leaping out of No-Time to scramble up the walls
toward them, they broke and ran.
‘Did you tell the Trolls to open the gates for us?’ Vanion asked
Ulath.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ the Genidian replied, ‘but it might be a little
while before they remember. They’re hungry right now. They’ll
eat breakfast first.’
‘We have to get inside, Ulath,’ Sephrenia said urgently. ‘We
have to protect the slave-pens.’
‘Oh, Lord,’ he said. ‘I forgot about that. The Trolls won’t be
able to distinguish slaves from Cynesgans.’
‘i’ll go have a look,’ Khalad volunteered. He swung down
from his horse and ran forward to the massively timbered gates.
After a couple of moments he came back. ‘It’s no particular
problem, Lady Sephrenia,’ he reported. ‘Those gates would fall
apart if you sneezed on them.’
‘What?’
The timbers are very old, my Lady, and they’re riddled with
dry-rot. With your permission, Lord Vanion, I’ll take some men
and rig up a battering-ram. We’ll knock down the gate so that
we can get inside.’
‘Of course,’ Vanion replied.
‘Come along then, Berit,’ Khalad told his friend.
‘That young man always manages to make me feel inadequate,’
Vanion muttered as they watched the pair ride back to
rejoin the knights massed some yards to the rear.
‘As I remember, his father had the same effect on you,’
Sephrenia said.