still leveled, watched his writhing son coldly for several endless
minutes.
‘Now do you understand?’ he demanded in a deadly voice,
speaking in Tamul this time.
‘Yes. yes! Father!’ Scarpa shrieked. ‘Stop! I beg you!’
Zalasta let him writhe and squirm for a while longer. Then he
lowered the staff. ‘You are not master here,’ he declared. ‘You are
no more than a brain-sick incompetent. Any one of a dozen
otherrs here could command this army, so do not try my patience “..
further. Next time, son or no son, I will let the spell follow its
natural course. Pain is like a disease, Scarpa. After a few days
_ or weeks – the body begins to deteriorate. A man can die from
pain. Don’t force me to prove that to you.’ And he turned his
back on his pale-faced, sweating son. ‘My apologies, your Majesty,’
he said to Ehlana. ‘This was not what I intended.’
‘And what did you intend, Zalasta?’ she asked coldly.
The dispute is between your husband and myself, Ehlana. It
was never in my mind to cause you such discomfort. This cretin
I must unfortunately acknowledge took it upon himself to mistreat’
you. I promise you that he will not live to see the sunset
of the day in which he does it again.’
I see. The humiliation and pain were not your idea, but the
.captivity was. Where’s the difference, Zalasta?’
He sighed and passed a weary hand over his eyes. ‘It is necessary,’
he told her.
for what reason? Sephrenia will never submit to you, you
know. Even if Bhelliom and the rings fall into your hands, you
cannot compel her love.’
There are other considerations as well, Queen Ehlana,’ he
said sorrowfully. ‘Please bring your maid and come with me.
I’ll see you to your quarters. ‘
‘Some dungeon, I suppose.’
He sighed. ‘No, Ehlana, the quarters are clean and comfortable.
I’ve seen to that myself. Your ordeal is at an end, I promise
you.”
“My ordeal, as you call it, will not be at an end until I’m
united with my husband and my daughter.’
That, we may pray, will be very soon. It is, however, in the
hands of Prince Sparhawk. All he must do is follow instructions.
YOUR quarters are not far. Follow me, please.’ He led them to a
nearby building and unlocked the door.
Their prison was very nearly luxurious, an apartment of sorts,
complete with several bedrooms, a dining hall, a large sittingroom
and even a kitchen. The building had evidently been the
palace of some nobleman and, although the upper stories had
since collapsed, the ground-floor rooms, their ceilings
supported by great arches, were still intact. The furnishings in
the rooms were ornate, though mis-matched, and there were rugs
on the floors and drapes to cover the windows – windows,
Ehlana noticed, which had recently been fitted with stout
iron bars.
The fireplaces were cavernous, and they were all filled with
blazing logs, not so much to ward off the minimal chill of the
Arjuni winter but to dry out rooms saturated with over a millennium
of dank humidity. There were beds and fresh linen and
clothing of an Arjuni cut, but most important of all, there was
a fair-sized room with a large marble bathtub set into the floor.
Ehlana’s eyes fixed longingly on that ultimate luxury. It so completely
seized her attention that she scarcely heard Zalasta’s
apologies. After a few vague replies from her, the Styric realized
that his continued presence was no longer appreciated, so he
politely excused himself and left.
‘Alcan, dear,’ Ehlana said in an almost dreamy voice, ‘that’s
quite a large tub – certainly large enough for the two of us,
wouldn’t you say?’
Alcan was also gazing at the tub with undisguised longing.
‘Easily, your Majesty,’ she replied.
‘How long do you think it might take us to heat enough water
to fill it?’
‘There are plenty of large pots and kettles in that kitchen, my
Queen,’ the gentle girl said, ‘and all the fireplaces are going. It
shouldn’t take very long at all.’
‘Wonderful,’ Ehlana said enthusiastically. ‘Why don’t we get
started?’
“Just exactly who is this Klael, Zalasta?’ Ehlana asked the Styric
several days later when he came by to call. Zalasta came to their
prison often, as if his visits in some way lessened his guilt, and
he always talked, long, rambling, sometimes disconnected talk
that often revealed far more than he probably intended for her
to know.
‘Klael is an eternal being,’ he replied. Ehlana noted almost
absently that the heavily accented Elenic which had so irritated
her when they had first met in Sarsos was gone now. Another
of his ruses, she concluded. ‘Klael is far more eternal than the
Gods of this world,’ he continued. ‘He’s in some way connected
to Bhelliom. They’re contending principles, or something along
those lines. I was a bit distraught when Cyrgon explained the
relationship, so I didn’t fully understand.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ she murmured. Her relationship with
Zalasta was peculiar. The circumstances made ranting and
denunciation largely a waste of time, so Ehlana was civil to him.
He appeared to be grateful for that, and his gratitude made
him more open with her. That civility, which cost her nothing,
enabled her to pick up much information from the Styric’s rambling
conversation.
‘Anyway,’ Zalasta continued, ‘Cyzada was terrified when
Cyrgon commanded him to summon Klael, and he tried very
hard to talk the God out of the notion. Cyrgon was implacable,
though, and he was filled with rage when Sparhawk neatly
plucked the Trolls right out of his grasp. We’d never even considered
the possibility that Sparhawk might release the TrollGods
from their confinement. ‘
That was Sir Ulath’s idea,’ Ehlana told him. ‘Ulath knows a
great deal about trolls.”
‘Evidently so. At any rate, Cyrgon forced Cyzada to summon
klael, but klael no sooner appeared than he went in search of
Bhelliom. That took Cyrgon aback. It had been his intention to
hold klael in reserve – in hiding, so to speak – and to unleash him
by surprise. That went out the window when Klael rushed off
to the North Cape to confront Bhelliom. Sparhawk knows that
Klael is here now – although I have no idea what he can do
about it. That was what made the summoning of klael such
idiocy in the first place. Klael can’t be controlled. I tried to explain
that to Cyrgon, but he wouldn’t listen. Our goal is to gain possession
of Bhelliom, and klael and Bhelliom are eternal enemies.
As soon as Cyrgon takes Bhelliom in his hands, Klael will attack
him, and I’m fairly certain that klael is infinitely more powerful
than he is.’ Zalasta glanced around cautiously. ‘The Cyrgai are
in many ways a reflection of their God, I’m afraid. Cyrgon
abhors any kind of intelligence. He’s frighteningly stupid
sometimes. ‘
I hate to point this out, Zalasta,’ she said insincerely, ‘but
you have this tendency to ally yourself with defectives. Annias
was clever enough, I suppose, but his obsession with the Archprelacy
distorted his judgment, and Martel’s drive for revenge
made his thinking just as distorted. From what I gather, Otha
was as stupid as a stump, and Azash was so elemental that all
he had on his mind were his desires. Coherent thought was
beyond him.’
‘You know everything, don’t you, Ehlana?’ he said. ‘How on
earth did you find all of this out?’
‘i’m not really at liberty to discuss it,’ she replied.
‘No matter, I suppose,’ he said absently. A sudden hunger
crossed his face. ‘How is Sephrenia?’ he asked.
‘Well enough. She was very upset when she first found out
about you, though – and your attempt on Aphrael’s life was
really ill-conceived, you know. That was the one thing that convinced
her of your treachery.’
‘I lost my head,’ he confessed. ‘That cursed Delphaeic woman
destroyed three hundred years of patient labor with a toss of
her head.’
‘I suppose it’s none of my business, but why didn’t you just
accept the fact that Sephrenia was wholly committed to Aphrael
and let it go at that? There’s no way you can ever compete with
the Child Goddess,’ you know.’
‘Could you have ever accepted the idea that Sparhawk was
committed to another, Ehlana?’ His tone was accusing.
‘No,’ she admitted, ‘I suppose I couldn’t have. We do strange
things for love, don’t we, Zalasta? I was at least direct about it,
though. Things might have worked out differently for you if
you hadn’t tried deceit and deception. Aphrael’s not completely
unreasonable, you know.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he replied. Then he sighed deeply. ‘But we’ll
never know, will we?’
‘No. It’s far too late now.’
‘The glazier cracked the pane when he was setting it into the
frame, my Queen,’ Alcan said quietly pointing at the defective
triangle of bubbled glass in the lower corner of the window. ‘He
was very clumsy.’