balcony. Talen was motioning to him. ‘i’m going to go and have
a look,’ Sparhawk told Mirtai.
‘Don’t be too long,’ she cautioned. ‘The night’s starting to run
out on us.’
He grunted and started across toward the balcony.
The drawbridge was down, and no one was standing watch.
‘How very convenient,’ Elysoun said as she, Liatris and
Gahennas crossed the bridge into the courtyard of the castle.
‘Chacole thinks of everything, doesn’t she?’
‘I thought there were supposed to be Church Knights on
guard here,’ Gahennas said. ‘Chacole couldn’t bribe them, could
she?’
‘Lord Vanion took his knights with him,’ Liatris replied. ‘The
responsibility for guarding the castle’s been turned over to ceremonial
troops from the main garrison. Some officer is probably
quite a bit richer than he was yesterday. You’ve been here
before, Elysoun. Where can we find our husband?’
‘He’s usually up on the second floor. There are royal apartments
there.’
‘We’d better get up there in a hurry. That unguarded gate
makes me very nervous. I doubt that we’d be able to find a
guard anywhere in the castle, and that means that Chacole’s
assassins have free access to Sarabian.’
The balcony appeared not to have been used for at least a generation.
Dust lay deep in the corners, and the thick crust of birddroppings
on the floor was undisturbed. Talen was crouched
beside the window, peering round the edge, when Sparhawk
came up over the stone balustrade. ‘is there anybody in there?’
the big Pandion whispered.
‘A whole crowd,’ Talen whispered back. ‘Zalasta just came in ‘
with a couple of Cyrgai.’
Sparhawk joined his young friend and looked in.
The room appeared to be some kind of torch-lit audience hall
or throne-room. The balcony where Sparhawk and Talen
crouched was above the level of the floor and was reached from
the inside by a flight of stone stairs. There was a slightly raised
dais at the far end of the room with a throne carved from a
single rock at the back of it. A well-muscled, handsome man in
an ornate breastplate and a short leather kirtle sat on the throne
surveying the merf around him with an imperious expression.
Zalasta stood to one side of the man on the throne, and a
wrinkled man in an ornamented black robe was at the front of
the dais speaking in his own language. Sparhawk swore and
quickly cast the spell.
‘Now what?’ Aphrael’s voice sounded in his mind.
‘Can’ you translate for me?’
‘I can do better than that.’
He seemed to hear a faint buzzing sound and felt a momentary
giddiness.
and even now those forces do surround the sacred city,’
the wrinkled man was saying in a language Sparhawk now.
understood.
A man with iron-grey hair and powerfully muscled arms
stepped forward from the gathering before the dais. ‘What is
there to fear, Ekatas?’ he asked in a booming voice. ‘Mighty
Cyrgon clouds the eyes of our enemies as he has for a hundred
centuries. Let them crouch among the bones beyond our valley
and seek vainly the Gates of illusion. They are as blind men and
pose no danger to the Hidden City.’
There was a murmur of agreement from the others standing
before the dais.
‘General Ospados speaks truth,’ another armored man
declared, also stepping forward. ‘Let us, as we have always,
iBnore these puny foreigners at our gates.’
‘Shameful!’ another bellowed, stepping to the front some distance
from the two who had already spoken. ‘Will we hide from
inferior races? Their presence at our gates is an affront that must
be punished!”
‘Can you make out what they’re saying?’ Talen whispered.
‘They’re arguing,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘Really?’ Talen’s tone was sardonic. ‘Could you be a little more
specific, Sparhawk?’
‘Evidently Aphrael’s cousins have managed to get everybody
here. From what the fellow in the black robe was saying, the
city’s surrounded.’
‘It’s a comfort to have friends nearby. What do these people
plan to do about it?’
‘That’s what they’re arguing about. Some of them want to just
sit tight. Others want to attack.’
Then Zalasta came to the front of the dais. ‘Thus says Eternal
Klael,’ he declared. ‘The forces beyond the Gates of illusion
are as nothing. The danger is here within the walls of the
Hidden City. Anakha is even now within the sound of my
voice.’
Sparhawk swore.
‘What’s wrong?’ Talen demanded.
‘Zalasta knows we’re here.’
‘How did he find that OUt?’
‘I have no idea. He says that he’s speaking for Klael, and Klael
can probably feel Bhelliom.’
‘Even through the gold?’
‘The gold might hide Bhelliom from Cyrgon, but Bhelliom and
Klael are brothers. They can probably feel each other halfway
across the universe – even when there are whole suns burning
between them.’ Sparhawk held up his hand. ‘He’s saying something
else.’ He leaned closer to the window.
‘I know you can hear me, Sparhawk!’ Zalasta said in a loud
voice, speaking in Elenic. ‘You’re Bhelliom’s creature, and that
gives you a certain amount of power. But I am Klael’s now, and
that gives me just as much as you have.’ Zalasta sneered. ‘The
disguises were very clever, but klael saw through them immediately.
You should have done as you were told, Sparhawk.
You’ve doomed your two young friends, and there’s not a single
thing you can do about it.’
There were a half-dozen men in nondescript clothing in the
hallway outside the door to the room where the Emperor had
been the last time Elysoun had visited him. Elysoun did not
even think. ‘Sarabian!’ she shouted. ‘Lock your door!’
The Emperor, of course, did not. After a momentary shocked
pause while the assassins froze in their tracks and Liatris blistered
the air around her with curses even as she drew her daggers,
the door burst open and Sarabian, dressed in Elene hose,
a full-sleeved linen shirt, and with his long, black hair tied back,
lunged out into the hallway, rapier in hand.
Sarabian was tall for a Tamul, and his first lunge pinned an
assassin to the wall opposite the door. The Emperor whipped
his sword free of the suddenly collapsing body with a dramatic
flourish.
“Quit showing off.” Liatris snapped at her husband as she
neatly ripped one of the assassins up the middle. ‘Pay attention!’
‘Yes, my love.;’ Sarabian said gaily, crouching again into en
garde.
Elysoun had only a small, neat dagger with a five-inch blade.
It was long enough, though. An Arjuni assassin with a foot-long
poniard parried Sarabian’s next thrust and, snarling spitefully,
rushed forward with his needle-like dagger directed at the
Emperor’s very eyes. Then he arched back with a choked cry.
Elysoun’s little knife, sharp as any razor, had plunged smoothly
into the small of his back, riPPing into his kidneys.
It was Gahennas, however, who startled and shocked them
all. Her weapon was a slim, curved knife. With a shrill scream,
the jug-eared Tegan Empress flew into the middle of the fray,
slashing at the faces of Chacole’s hired killers. Screeching, Gahennas
hacked at the startled assailants, and Sarabian took advantage
of every lapse. His thin blade whistled as he danced the
deadly dance of thrust and recover. This is not to say that the
Emperor of Tamuli was a master swordsman. He was fairly
skilled, but Stragen might have found room for criticism. In truth,
it was the wives who carried the day – or night, in this case.
‘inside, my dear ones,’ Sarabian said, thrusting his savage
women toward the door while he slashed at the empty air over
the fallen assassins. ‘i’ll cover your backs.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Liatris murmured to Elysoun and Gahennas. ‘He’s
such a baby.’
‘Yes, Liatris,’ Elysoun replied, wrapping one arm affectionately
about her ugly Tegan sister, ‘but he’s ours.’
‘Kring’s coming,’ Khalad said quietly, pointing at the shadowy
horseman galloping across the bone-littered gravel in the
moonlight.
‘That’s not a good idea,’ Berit said, frowning. ‘Somebody
might be watching.’
The Domi reached them and reined in sharply. ‘Come away!’
he hissed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Berit demanded.
‘The Child Goddess says for you to come back to where the
others are. the Cyrgai are coming out to kill you.’
‘I was wondering how long it was going to take them to decide
to try that,’ Khalad said, swinging up into his saddle. ‘Let’s go,
Berit.’
Berit nodded, reaching for Faran’s reins. ‘is Lord Vanion going
to do anything when the Cyrgai come out?’ he asked Kring.
Kring’s answering grin was wolfish. ‘Friend Ulath has a little
surprise for them when they come through the gate,’ he replied.
Berit looked around. ‘Where is he?’ he asked. ‘I don’t see
him.’
‘Neither will the Cyrgai – until it’s too late. Let’s get back
away from this cliff. We’ll let them see us. They’ve been ordered
to kill you, so they’ll come running after us. Friend Ulath has
six or eight very hungry Trolls with him, and they’ll be right on
top of the Cyrgai when they come out.’