The Hidden City by David Eddings

‘And you don’t know that it has. If it bothers you all that

much, Emban, you can re-consecrate it after we finish.’

Emban’s face blanched. ‘Do you know what’s involved in that,

Vanion?’ he protested. ‘The hours of praying – the prostration

before the altar – the fasting?’ His chubby face went pale. ‘Good

God, the fasting!’

Sephrenia, Flute, and Xanetia had slipped into the chapel several

hours earlier, and they were sitting unobtrusively in one

corner listening to a choir of Church Knights singing hymns.

Emban and Vanion were still arguing when they joined the

ladies. ‘What’s the problem?’ Sephrenia asked.

‘Patriarch Emban and Lord Vanion are having a disagreement

about whether or not the chapel’s been consecrated, little

mother,’ Kalten explained.

‘it hasn’t,’ Flute told him with a little shrug.

‘How can you tell?’ Emban demanded.

She gave him a long-suffering look. ‘Who am I, your Grace?’

she asked him.

He blinked. ‘Oh. I keep forgetting that for some reason. Is

there actually a way you can tell whether or not a place has been

consecrated?’

‘Well of course there is. Believe me, Emban, this chapel’s never

been consecrated to your Elene God.’ She paused. ‘There was a

spot not far from here that was consecrated to a tree about eighteen

thousand years ago, though.’

‘A tree?’

‘it was a very nice tree – an oak. It’s always an oak for some

reason. Nobody ever seems to want to worship an elm. Lots of

people used to worship trees. They’re predictable, for one thing.’

‘How could anybody in his right mind worship a tree?’

‘Who ever said that religious people were in their right minds?

Sometimes you humans confuse us a great deal, you know.’

Since there was an exchange of features involved in most cases

here, Sephrenia and Xanetia had experimented a bit to alter the

spell which had imprinted Sparhawk’s face on Berit. No

exchange was necessary for Sparhawk, however, so they modified

him first. He sat beside his old friend, Sir Endrik, a veteran

with whom he, Kalten and Martel had endured their novitiates.

Xanetia approached them with the color draining from her features

and that soft radiance suffusing her face. She examined

Endrik meticulously, and then her voice rose as she began to

intone the Delphaeic spell in her oddly accented, archaic Tamul.

Sephrenia stood at her side simultaneously casting the Styric

spell.

Sparhawk felt nothing whatsoever as Xanetia released her

spell. Then at the crucial instant, Sephrenia extended her hand,

interposing it between Sir Endrik’s face and Xanetia’s and simultaneously

releasing the Styric spell. Sparhawk definitely felt that.

His features seemed to somehow soften like melting wax, and

he could actually feel his face changing, almost as wet clay is

changed and molded by the potter’s hand. The straightening of

his broken nose was a bit painful, and the lengthening of his

jaw made his teeth ache as they shifted in the bone.

‘What do you think?’ Sephrenia asked Vanion when the Process

had been completed.

‘I don’t think you could get them any closer,’ Vanion replied,

examining the two men closely. ‘How does it feel to be twins, Endrik?’

‘I didn’t feel a thing, my Lord,’ Endrik replied, staring curiously

at Sparhawk.

‘I did,’ Sparhawk told him, gingerly touching his re-shaped

nose. ‘Does the ache go away eventually, Anarae?’ he asked.

‘Thou wilt notice it less as time doth accustom thee to the

alteration, Anakha. I did warn thee that some discomfort is

involved, did I not?’

‘You did indeed.” Sparhawk shrugged. ‘it’s not unbearable.”

‘Do I really look like that?’ Endrik asked.

‘Yes,’ Vanion replied.

‘I should take better care of myself. The years aren’t being

good to me. ‘

‘Nobody stays young and beautiful forever, Endrik,’ Kalten

laughed. ‘is that all that needs to be done to these two, Anarae?’ Vanion

asked.

‘The process is complete, Lord Vanion,’ Xanetia replied.

‘We need to talk, Sparhawk,’ the Preceptor said. ‘Let’s go into

the vestry where we’ll be out of the way while the ladies modify

the others.’

Sparhawk nodded, stood up and followed his friend to the

small door to the left of the altar.

Vanion led the way inside and closed the door behind them.

‘You’ve made all the arrangements with Sorgi?’ he asked.

Sparhawk sat down. ‘I talked with him yesterday,’ he replied.

‘I told him that I had some friends that had to go to Beresa

without attracting attention. He’s had the usual desertions, and

he’s holding three berths open. Stragen, Talen and I’ll merge

with the crew. We should be able to slip into Beresa without

being noticed.’

‘I imagine that cost you. Sorgi’s prices are a little steep

sometimes. ‘

Sparhawk massaged the side of his aching jaw. ‘it wasn’t all

that bad,’ he said. ‘Sorgi owes me a couple of favors, and I gave

him time to pick up a cargo to cover most of the cost.’

‘You’ll be going directly to the harbor from here?’

Sparhawk nodded. ‘We’ll use that tunnel Caalador found

under the barracks. I told Sorgi that his three new crew members

would report to him about midnight.’

‘You’ll sail tomorrow then?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘The day after. We have to load

Sorgi’s cargo tomorrow.’

‘honest work, Sparhawk?’ Vanion smiled.

‘You’re starting to sound like Khalad.’

‘He does have opinions, doesn’t he?’

‘So did his father.’

“Quit rubbing your face like that, Sparhawk. You’ll make your

skin raw.’ Vanion paused. ‘What was it like?

‘Very strange.’

‘Painful?’

‘The nose was. It feels almost as if somebody broke it again.

Be glad you don’t have to go through it.’

There wouldn’t be much point in that. I won’t be sneaking

down alleys the way the rest of you will. ‘ Vanion looked sympathetically

at his friend. ‘We’ll get her back, Sparhawk,’ he said.

‘Of course. Was that all?’ Sparhawk’s tone was deliberately

unemotional. The important thing here was not to feel.

“Just be careful, and try to keep a handle on your temper.’

Sparhawk nodded. ‘Let’s go see how the others are coming.

The alterations were confusing, there was no question about

that. It was hard to tell exactly who was talking, and sometimes

Sparhawk was startled by just who answered his questions.

They said their goodbyes and quietly left the chapel with the

main body of the Church Knights. They went out into the

torch-lit courtyard, crossed the drawbridge, and proceeded

across the night-shrouded lawn to the barracks of the knights,

where Sparhawk, Stragen and Talon changed into tar-smeared

sailor’s smocks while the others also donned the mis-matched

clothing of commoners. Then they all went down to the cellar.

Caalador, who now wore the blocky face of a middle-aged

Deiran knight, led the way into a damp, cobweb-draped tunnel

with a smoky torch. When they had gone about a mile, he

stopped and raised the torch. ‘This yere’s yet exit, Sporhawk,’

he said, pointing at a steep, narrow stairway. ‘You’ll come out

in an alley – which it is oz don’t smell none too sweet, but is

S an’ dark.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, Stragen,’ he apologized. ‘I

wanted to give you something to remember me by.’

“you’re too kind,’ Stragen murmured.

“Good luck, Sparhawk,’ Caalador said then.

Thanks, Caalador.’ The two shook hands, and then Caalador

lifted his torch and led the rest of the party off down the musty-smelling

passageway toward their assorted destinations, leaving

Sparhawk, Talon, and Stragen alone in the dark.

‘They won’t be in any danger, Vanion,’ Flute assured the Preceptor

as the ladies were packing. ‘I’ll be going along, after all, and

I can take care of them.’

‘Ten knights then,’ he amended his suggestion downward.

‘They’d just be in our way, love,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘I do

want you to be careful, though. A body of armed men is far

more likely to be attacked than a small party of travelers.’

‘But it isn’t safe for ladies to travel alone,’ he protested. ‘There

are always robbers and the like lurking in the forest.’

‘We won’t be in one place long enough to attract robbers or

anybody else,’ Flute told him. ‘We’ll be in Delphaeus in two

days. I could do it in one, but I’ll have to stop and have a long

talk with Edaemus before I go into his valley. He might just take

a bit of convincing.’

‘When art thou leaving Matherion, Lord Vanion?’ Xanetia

asked.

‘About the end of the week, Anarae,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got

to spend some time on our equipment, and there’s always the

business of organizing the supply train.’

‘Take warm clothing,’ Sephrenia instructed. ‘The weather

could change at any time.’

‘Yes, love. How long will you be at Delphaeus?’

‘We can’t be sure. Aphrael will keep you advised. We have a

great deal to discuss with Anari Codon. The fact that Cyrgon

has summoned Klael complicates matters.’

‘Truly,’ Xanetia agreed. ‘We may be obliged to entreat edaemus

to return.’

‘Would he do that?’

Flute smiled roguishly. ‘I’ll coax him, Vanion,’ she said, ‘and

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *