what we think we know about Bhelliom is pure misdirection.
The rings evidently don’t really mean anything at all – except
possibly as a means of communication, and the gold box doesn’t
appear to be relevant either. It could be an idea Bhelliom planted
to keep us from enclosing it in iron. I’m guessing, but I’d say
that the touch of iron is still painful to it, but whether it’s painful
enough to actually confine it isn’t all that certain.’
‘He’s right, you know,’ Aphrael told her sister. ‘A great deal
of what we think we know about Bhelliom came from Ghwerig,
and Bhelliom had absolute control of Ghwerig. Our mistake was
believing that Ghwerig knew what he was talking about.’
‘That still doesn’t answer the question about using Bhelliom
to investigate things in Natayos,’ Sparhawk said, ‘and it’s not
the sort of thing I’d want to experiment with.’
‘I will go to Natayos,’ Xanetia said quietly. ‘it had been mine
intent to go unseen to Sepal, but Sir Tynian and Sir Ulath will
be there already, and well able to determine if the Queen be
truly there. I will go to Natayos and seek her there instead.’
‘Absolutely not!’ Sarabian said. ‘I forbid it.’
‘I am not subject to thee, Sarabian of Tamuli,’ she reminded
him. ‘But fear not. There is no peril involved for me. None will
know that I am there, and I can reach out to those who are
about me and share their thoughts. I will soon be able to determine
whether or no the Queen and her maidservant are in
Natayos. This is precisely the kind of service we offered when
we concluded our pact with Anakha.’
‘it’s too dangerous,’ he said stubbornly.
‘it seemeth me that thou hast forgot mine other gift, Sarabian
of Tamuli,’ she told him quite firmly. ‘The curse of Edaemus is
still upon me, and my touch is still death, an I choose it so. Fear
not for me, Sarabian, for should necessity compel me to it, I can
spread death and terror through Natayos. Though it doth cause
me pain to confess it, I can make Natayos once more a waste,
a weed-choked ruin populated only by the dead.’
CHAPTER 10
The city of Sama in Western Tamul Proper lay just to the south
of the Atan border in the deep gorge of the river from which it
took its name. The surrounding mountains were steep and rugged
and were covered with dark evergreens which sighed endlessly
in the prevailing wind sweeping down out of the
wilderness to the north. The weather was cold, and the leaden
sky spat stinging pellets of snow as Vanion’s army of Church
Knights slowly descended the long, steep road leading down
into the gorge. Vanion and Itagne, muffled in their heavy cloaks,
rode at the head of the column.
‘i’d have much preferred to stay on Aphrael’s island,’ Itagne
said, shivering and pulling his cloak tighter. ‘i’ve never been
particularly fond of this time of year.’
‘We’re almost there, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied.
‘is it customary to campaign in the wintertime, Lord Vanion?’
Itagne asked. ‘In Eosia, I mean?’
‘We try to avoid it, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied. ‘The
Lamorks attack each other in the winter, but the rest of us usually
have better sense.’
‘it’s a miserable time to go to war.’
Vanion smiled faintly. ‘That it is, my friend, but that’s not
why we avoid it. It’s a question of economics, really. It’s more
expensive to campaign in winter because you have to buy hay
for the horses. It’s the expense that keeps Elene kings peaceful
when there’s snow on the ground.’ Vanion stood up in his stirrups
to peer ahead. ‘betuana’s waiting,’ he said. ‘We’d better
ride down to meet her.’
Itagne nodded, and they pushed their horses into a jolting
trot.
The Queen of Atan had left them at Dasan on the eastern
edge of the mountains to come on ahead. She had several very
good reasons, of course, but Vanion privately suspected that
her decision had been influenced more by impatience than
necessity. Betuana was too polite to speak of it, but she clearly
had little use for horses, and she seldom missed an opportunity
to outrun them. She and Engessa, both garbed in otter-skins,
waited at the roadside about a mile outside the city.
‘Was there any trouble?’ the Atan Queen asked.
‘No, your Majesty,’ Vanion replied, his black armor clinking
as he swung down out of his saddle. ‘We were watched, but
there’s nothing unusual about that. Has anything been happening
in Cynesga?’
‘They’re moving up to the border, Vanion-Preceptor,’ Engessa
replied quietly. ‘They aren’t being very subtle about it. We’ve
been disrupting their supply lines and ambushing their scouting
parties just to keep them off-balance, but it’s fairly obvious that
they plan to come across the line in force.’
Vanion nodded. ‘it’s more or less what we expected, then. If
it’s all right with you, your Majesty, I’d like to get my men
settled in before we get too involved in discussions. I can always
think better after I’ve seen to all the details.’
‘Of course,’ Betuana agreed. ‘Engessa-Atan and I have
arranged quarters for them. When will you be leaving for
Samar?’
Tomorrow or the next day, Betuana-Queen. Tikume’s Peloi
are probably spread a little thin down there. He has a lot of
ground to cover.’
‘He sent back to Pela for more men, Vanion-Lord,’ Engessa
advised. ‘You’ll have a sizeable force in Samar in a week or so.’
‘Good. Let me go back and hurry the knights along. We have
much to discuss.’
Night settled early at the bottom of the gorge of the River
Sama, and it was fully dark by the time Vanion joined the others
in the headquarters of the city’s Atan garrison. Like all Atan
structures, the building was severely utilitarian and devoid of
any embellishment. The lone exception in the conference room
in which they gathered was a very large map covering one entire
wall. The map was brightly colored and dotted here and there
with fanciful illustrations. Vanion had bathed hurriedly and now
wore plain clothing. The years had taught him that armor was
impressive and even useful at times, but that no one had yet
devised a way to make it comfortable or to eliminate its characteristic
smell. ‘Are the quarters satisfactory?’ Betuana enquired politely.
‘Most satisfactory, your Majesty,’ he replied, settling into a
chair. ‘Have you been advised of the details of our meeting with
the Child Goddess?’
She nodded. ‘itagne-Ambassador gave me a report,’ she
replied. She paused. ‘One is curious to know why one was
excluded,’ she added.
‘Theological considerations, your Majesty,’ Vanion explained.
‘As I understand it, the Gods have an exquisitely complex etiquette
in these situations. Aphrael didn’t want to offend your
God by inviting his children to her island. There were some
other rather conspicuous absences as well. Emperor Sarabian
was there and Ambassador Itagne, but Foreign Minister
Oscagne wasn’t.’
Itagne frowned slightly. ‘The Emperor and I are skeptics agnostics,
I suppose you could call us – but Oscagne’s an out-and-out
atheist. Would that account for it?’
‘it might. I’ll ask Aphrael the next time I talk with her.’
Engessa looked around. ‘I didn’t see Kring-Domi when we
met you, Vanion-Preceptor,’ he noted.
‘Kring took his men and veered off toward Samar not long
after you and her Majesty left us to come on ahead. He thought
he’d be more useful there than he would here in Sama – and
you know how the western Peloi feel about mountains and
forests. Have the Cynesgans made any forays across the border
as yet?’
‘No, Vanion-Preceptor,’ Engessa replied. ‘They’re massing
in staging areas and bringng up supplies.’ He rose and went
to the map. ‘A large force moved out of Cynestra a while
back,’ he said, pointing at the Cynesgan capital. ‘They’re
positioned near the border more or less opposite us here.
Another force has taken up a similar position just across the line
from Samar.’ Vanion nodded. ‘Cyrgon’s more like a general than a God in
most ways. He’s not going to leave fortified positions to his rear.
He’ll have to neutralize Samar and Sama before he can strike
any deeper into Tamul Proper. I’d say that the force you’re facing
here has been ordered to take Sama, seal the southern border
of Atan and then swing northeast toward Tualas. I’m sure they’d
rather not have the entire Atan nation come swarming down
out of these mountains.’
‘There aren’t enough Cynesgans living to keep my people
hemmed in,’ Betuana told him.
‘i’m sure of it, your Majesty, but there probably are enough
to slow you down, and Cyrgon can recruit armies from the past
to hinder you all the more.’ He studied the map, his lips pursed.
‘I think I see where he’s going,’ he said. ‘Matherion’s on a peninsula,
and that narrow neck of land at Toea is the key to that. If