‘I have, my father. I have been Anakha, for it was needful.’
Sparhawk struggled for a way to put his feelings into archaic
Elenic. ‘When I did as Anakha confront the Styric Zalasta, I
did feel a great detachment within myself, and that detachment
abideth within me still. It seemeth me that thy gift hath altered
me, making me more – or less – than a man. I would, an it
please thee, no longer be “patient Anakha” or “curious Anakha”
or “implacable Anakha”. Anakha’s task is finished. Now, with
all my heart, I would be Sparhawk again. To be “loving Sparhawk”
or even “irritated Sparhawk” would please me far more
than the dreadful emptiness which is Anakha.’
There was a long pause. ‘Know that I am well-pleased with
thee, my son.’ There was pride in the silent voice in Sparhawk’s
mind. ‘I find more merit in thee in this moment than in any
other. Be well, Sparhawk.’ And the voice was gone.
The wedding ceremony was strange in some ways and very
familiar in others. The celebration of the love that existed
between Vanion and Sephrenia was there, but the preaching
which so marred the Elene ritual was not. At the conclusion,
Xanetia gently laid her hands in loving benediction upon the
heads of the two she had just joined. The gesture seemed to
proclaim that the ceremony was at an end.
But it was not.
The second of the two figures which had accompanied Xanetia
across the luminous waters of the lake stepped forward, all glowing
blue, to add its own benediction. It raised its hands over the
man and the woman, and for a brief moment they shared its
azure incandescence. And when the light faded, Sephrenia had
subtly changed. The cares and weariness which had marked her
face in a dozen tiny ways were gone, and she appeared to be
no older than Alcan. The changes Bhelliom’s glowing touch had
wrought on Vanion were more visible and pronounced. His
shoulders, which had imperceptibly slumped over the years,
were straight again. His face was unlined, and his silvery hair
and beard were now the dark auburn Sparhawk dimly
remembered from the days of his novitiate. It was Bhelliom’s
final gift, and nothing could have pleased Sparhawk more.
Aphrael clapped her hands together with a squeal of delight
and flew into the arms of the nebulous, glowing figure which
had just rejuvenated her sister and Vanion.
Sparhawk rather carefully concealed a smile. The Child Goddess
had finally maneuvered Bhelliom into a position where she
could unleash the devastating effects of her kisses upon it. The
kisses could, of course, have been pure, effusive gratitude – but
they probably weren’t.
The wedding was at an end, but the glowing Delphae did not
return to their empty city. Xanetia placed one supporting arm
around Anari Codon’s frail old shoulders and guided him
instead out onto the radiant surface of the lake, and the Shining
Ones followed, raising a different hymn as incandescent
Edaemus hovered in the air above them. The light of the lake
grew brighter and brighter, and the ethereal glow of the Delphae
seemed to merge, and individual figures were no longer distinguishable.
Then, like the point of a spear, Edaemus streaked
skyward, and all of his children streamed upward behind him.
When Sparhawk and his friends had first come to Delphaeus,
Anari Codon had told them that the Delphae journeyed toward
the light and that they would become the light, but that there
were yet impediments. Bhelliom had evidently removed those
barriers. The Delphae marked the starry sky like a comet as they
rose together on the first step of their inconceivable journey.
The pale, clear radiance of the lake was gone, but it was not
dark. An azure spark hung over it as Bhelliom surveyed what
it had wrought and found that it was good. Then it too rose
from the earth to rejoin the eternal stars.
They stayed that night in deserted Delphaeus, and Sparhawk
awoke early as usual. He dressed himself quietly and left the
simple bedroom and his tousled, sleeping wife to go outside to
check the weather.
Flute joined him when he reached the city gate. ‘Why don’t
you put some shoes on?’ he asked her, noting that her bare,
grass-stained little feet were sunk in the snow.
‘What do I need with shoes, Father?’ She held out her arms,
and he picked her up.
‘It was quite a night, wasn’t it?’ he said, looking up at the
cloudy sky.
‘Why did you do that, Sparhawk?’
‘Do what?’
“you know what I mean. Do you realize what you could have
done? You could have turned this world into a paradise, but
you threw it all away.’
‘I don’t think that would have been a good idea, Aphrael. My
idea of paradise would probably have been different from other
people’s.’ He sniffed at the chill air. ‘I think we’ve got weather
coming,’ he observed.
‘Don’t change the subject. You had ultimate power. Why did
you give it up?’
He sighed. ‘I didn’t really like it all that much. There wasn’t
any effort involved in it, and when you get something without
working for it, it doesn’t really have any value. Besides, there
are people who have claims on me.’
What’s that got to do with it?’
“What could I have done if Ehlana had decided that she
wanted Arcium? Or if Dolmant had decided that he wanted to
convert Styricum? Or all of Tamuli? I have loyalties and obligations,
Aphrael, and sooner or later, i’d have made bad decisions
because of them. Trust me. I made the right choice.’
‘I think you’re going to regret it.’
‘i’ve regretted lots of things. You learn to live with it. Can
you get us to Matherion?’
‘You could have done it yourself, you know.
‘Don’t beat it into the ground, Aphrael. If you don’t want to,
then we’ll just plow our way through the snow. We’ve done it
before.’
‘You’re hateful, Sparhawk. You know I won’t let you do that.’
‘Now do you see what I mean about the power of loyalties
and obligations?’
‘Don’t start lecturing me. I’m in no mood for it. Go wake up
the others, and let’s get started.’
‘Whatever you say, Divine One.’
They located the rather large communal kitchen in which the
Delphae had prepared all their meals and the storerooms where
the food was kept. Despite their eons of enmity, the dietary
prejudices of the Styrics and Delphae were remarkably similar.
Sephrenia found the breakfast much to her liking, but Kalten
grumbled a great deal. He did eat three helpings, however.
‘Whatever happened to friend Bhlokw?’ Kring asked, pushing
back his plate. ‘I just realized that I haven’t seen him since
Zalasta took fire.’
‘He went off with his Gods, Domi,’ Tynian replied. ‘He did
what they sent him to do, and now he and the rest of the Trolls
are on their way back to Thalesia. He wished us all good hunting.
That’s about as close as a Troll can come to saying goodbye.’
‘It might sound a little strange,’ Kring admitted, ‘but I liked
him.’
‘He’s a good pack-mate,’ Ulath said. ‘He hunts well, and
he’s willing to share what he kills with the others in the
pack.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Tynian agreed with a shudder. ‘if it wasn’t a freshly-killed
dog, it was a haunch of raw Cyrgai.’
‘It was what he had, Tynian,’ Ulath defended his shaggy
friend, ‘and he was ready to share it. You can’t ask more than
that, can you?’
‘Sir Ulath,’ Talen said, ‘i’ve just eaten. Do you suppose we
could talk about something else?’
They saddled their horses and rode out of Delphaeus.
As he left, Khalad reined in, dismounted, and closed the gate.
‘Why did you do that?’ Talen asked him. ‘The Delphae aren’t
coming back, you know.’
‘It’s the proper thing to do,’ Khalad said as he remounted.
‘Leaving it open would have been disrespectful.’
Since they all knew who she really was, Flute made no attempt
to conceal her tampering this time. The horses plodded along,
as horses will if they aren’t being pushed, but every few minutes
the horizon flickered and changed. Once, somewhat east of
Dirgis, Sparhawk rose in his stirrups to look to the rear. Their
clearly visible trail stretched back to the middle of an open
meadow where it stopped abruptly, almost as if the horses and
riders had been dropped there out of the sky.
They reached the now-familiar hilltop overlooking fire-domed
Matherion and its harbor just as evening was approaching, and
they rode on down to the city gratefully. They had all been long
on the road, and it was good to be home again. Sparhawk rather
quickly amended that thought in his mind. Matherion was not
really home. Home was a dank, unlovely city on the Cimmura
River, half a world away.
There were some startled looks at the gate of the imperial