‘How did you come to know so much about this, Alcan?’
Ehlana asked her.
‘My father was apprenticed to a glazier when he was young,’
the doe-eyed girl replied. ‘He used to repair windows in our
village.’ She touched the tip of the glowing poker to the bead
of lead that held the cracked pane in place. ‘I’ll have to be very
careful,’ she said, frowning in concentration, ‘but if I do it right
I can fix it so that we can take out this little section of glass and
put it back inagain. That way, we’ll be able to hear what they’re
talking about out there in the street, and then we’ll be able to
put the glass back in again so that they’ll never know what we’ve
found out. I ththought you might want to be able to listen to them,
they always seem to gather just outside this window.’
“you’re an absolute treasure, Alcan!’ Ehlana exclaimed, imPulsively
embracing the girl.
be careful, my Lady.’ Alcan cried in alarm. ‘The hot iron!’
Alcan was right. The window with the small defective pane
was at the corner of the building, and Zalasta, Scarpa and the
Others were quartered in the attached structure. It appeared that
whenever they wanted to discuss something out of the hearing
of the soldiers, they habitually drifted to the walled-in cul-de-sac
just outside the window. The small panes of cheap glass leaded
%late the window-frame were only semi-transparent at best, and
so,’ with minimal caution, Alcan’s modification of the cracked
pane permitted Ehlana to listen and even marginally observe
without being seen.
On the day following her conversation with Zalasta, she saw
the white-robed Styric approaching with a look of bleakest melancholy
on his face and with Scarpa and Krager close behind
him. ‘You’ve got to snap out of this, Father,’ Scarpa said
urgently. ‘The soldiers are beginning to notice.’
‘Let them,’ Zalasta replied shortly.
no, Father,’ Scarpa said in his rich, theatrical voice, ‘we can’t
do that. These men are animals. They function below the level
of~thought. If you walk around through these streets with the
aiR of a little boy whose dog just died, they’re going to think
that something’s wrong and they’ll start deserting by the regiment.
I’ve spent too much time and effort gathering this army
to have you drive them away by feeling sorry for yourself. ‘
“you’d never understand, Scarpa,’ Zalasta retorted. ‘You can’t
even begin to comprehend the meaning of love. You don’t love
anything.”
“Oh, yes I do, Zalasta,’ Scarpa snaPPed. ‘I love me. That’s the
only kind of love that makes any sense.’
Ehlana just happened to be watching Krager. The drunkard’s
eyes were narrowed, shrewd. He casually moved his everpresent
tankard around behind him and poured most of the
, wine out. Then he raised the tankard and drank off the dregs
Then he belched. ‘Parn’me,’ he slurred, reaching out his
hand to the wall to steady himself as he weaved back and forth
on his feet.
Scarpa gave him a quick, irritated glance, obviously dismissing
him. Ehlana, however, rather quickly re-assessed Krager. He
was not always nearly as drunk as he appeared to be.
‘It’s all been for nothing, Scarpa,’ Zalasta groaned. ‘I’ve allied
myself with the diseased, the degenerate and the insane for
nothing. I had thought that once Aphrael was gone, Sephrenia
might turn to me. But she won’t. She’d die before she’ll have
anything to do with me.’
Scarpa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Let her die then,’ he said bluntly.
‘Can’t you get it through your head that one woman’s the same
as any other? Women are a commodity – like bales of hay or
barrels of wine. Look at Krager here. How much affection do
you think he has for an empty wine barrel? It’s the new ones,
the full ones, that he loves, right, Krager?’
Krager smirked at him owlishly and then belched again.
‘Parn’me,’ he said.
‘I can’t really see any reason for this obsession of yours anyway,’
Scarpa continued to grind on his father’s most sensitive
spot. ‘Sephrenia’s only damaged goods now. Vanion’s had her
dozens of times. Are you so poor-spirited that you’d take the
leavings of an Elene?’
Zalasta suddenly smashed his fist against the stone wall with
a snarl of frustration.
‘He’s probably so used to having her that he doesn’t even
waste his time murmuring endearments to her any more,’ Scarpa
went on. ‘He just takes what he wants from her, rolls over and
starts to snore. You know how Elenes are when they’re in rut.
And she’s probably no better. He’s made an Elene out of her,
Father. She’s not a Styric any more. She’s become an Elene – or
even worse, a mongrel. I’m really surprised to see you wasting
all this pure emotion on a mongrel.’ He sneered. ‘She’s no better
than my mother or my sisters, and you know what they were.’
Zalasta’s face twisted, and he threw back his head and actually
howled. ‘i’d rather see her dead!’
Scarpa’s pale, bearded face grew sly. ‘Why don’t you kill her
then, Father?’ he asked in an insinuating whisper. ‘Once a
decent woman’s been bedded by an Elene, she can never be
trusted again, you know. Even if you did persuade her to marry
you, she’d never be faithful.’ He laid an insincere hand on his
arm. ‘Kill her, Father,’ he advised. ‘At least your memory
of her will be pure, she never will be.’
Zalasta howled again and clawed at his beard with his long
nails. Then he turned quickly and ran off down the street.
Crager straightened, and his seeming drunkenness slid away.
“you took an awful chance there, you know,’ he said in a cautious
tone.
Scarpa looked sharply at him. ‘Very good, Krager,’ he murmmured.
“you played the part of a drunkard almost to perfection.’
I’ve had lots of practice,’ Krager shrugged. ‘You’re lucky
he didn’t obliterate you, Scarpa – or tie your guts in knots.”
he couldn’t,’ Scarpa smirked. ‘i’m a fair magician myself, you
know, and I’m skilled enough to know that you have to have a
clear head to work the spells. I kept him in a state of rage. He
~couldn’t have worked up enough magic to break a spider-web.
Lets hope that he does kill Sephrenia. That should really scatter
Sparhawk’s wits, not to mention the fact that as soon as the
desire of his life is no more than a pile of dead meat, Zalasta’s
very likely to conveniently cut his own throat.’
“you really hate him, don’t you?’
Wouldn’t you, Krager? He could have taken me with him
when I was a child, but he’d come to visit for a while, and he’d
show me what it meant to be a Styric, and then he’d go off alone,
leaving me behind to be tormented by whores. If he doesn’t have
the stomach to cut his own throat, I’d be more than happy to
lend him a hand.’ Scarpa’s eyes were very bright, and he was
smiling broadly. ‘Where’s your wine barrel, Krager?’ he asked.
right now I feel like getting drunk.’ And he began to laugh, a
long insane laugh empty of any mirth or humanity.
it’s no use!’ ~Ehlana said, flinging the comb across the room.
look at what they’ve done to my hair!’ She buried her face in
her hands and wept.
it’s not hopeless, my Lady,’ Alcan said in her soft voice.
there’s a style they wear in Cammoria.’ She lifted the mass of
blonde hair on the right side of Ehlana’s head and brought it
over across the top. ‘You see,’ she said. ‘It covers all the bare
parts, and it really looks quite chic.’
Ehlana looked hopefully into her mirror. ‘It doesn’t look too
bad, does it?’ she conceded.
‘And if we set a flower just behind your right ear, it would
really look very stunning.’
‘Alcan, you’re wonderful!’ the Queen exclaimed happily.
‘What would I ever do without you?’
It took them the better part of an hour, but at last the unsightly
bare places were covered, and Ehlana felt that some measure of
her dignity had been restored.
That evening, however, Krager came to call. He stood swaying
in the doorway, his eyes bleary and a drunken smirk on his
face. ‘Harvest-time again, Ehlana,’ he announced, drawing his
dagger. ‘It seems that I’ll need just a bit more of your hair.’
CHAPTER 6
The sky remained overcast, but as luck had it, it had not yet
rained. The stiff wind coming in off the Gulf of Micae was raw,
however, and they rode with their cloaks wrapped tightly about
them. Despite Khalad’s belief that it was to their advantage to
move slowly, Berit was consumed with impatience. He knew
that what they were doing was only a small part of the over-
all strategy, but the confrontation they all knew was coming
loomed ahead, and he desperately wanted to get on with it.
‘How can you be so patient?’ he asked Khalad about midafternoon