She pouted. ‘I worked for weeks on that speech, Sparhawk.’
‘It’s a lovely speech, Aphrael. When you tell the other Gods about this – and I’m sure you will – recite it to them as if you had delivered it to us verbatim. They’ll swoon with delight, I’m sure. For the sake of brevity – this night won’t last forever, you know – And for the sake of clarity, give us the abbreviated version. You might consider suspending the thee’s and thou’s as well. They make you sound as if you’re preaching a sermon, and sermons tend to put people to sleep.’
She pouted slightly. ‘Oh, very well, Sparhawk,’ she said, ‘but you’re taking all the fun out of this for me.’
.Can you ever forgive me?’
She stuck her tongue out at him and led him back to rejoin the others.
‘This grouchy old bear suggests that I get to the point,’
Aphrael said, giving Sparhawk a sly, sidelong glance.
“He’s nice enough as a knight, I suppose, but he’s a bit lacking in poetry. Very well, then, I’ve asked you to come here so that I can tell you a few things about Bhelliom – why it’s so powerful – and so very dangerous.’
She paused, knitting her raven-like brows. ‘Bhelliom isn’t ‘~substance,’ she continued. “It’s spirit, and it predates the stars. There are many such spirits, and each-of them has many attributes. One of their more important attributes is colour. You see, what happens is -‘ She looked around at them. ‘Maybe we can save that for some other day,’
she decided. “Anyway, these spirits were cast across the sky so that -‘ She broke off again. ‘This is very difficult, Sephrenia,’ she said in a plaintive little voice. ‘Why must these Elenes be so dense?’
“Because their God chooses not to explain things to them, Aphrael,’ Sephrenia told her.
“He’s such an old stick,’ Aphrael said. “He makes rules for no reason at all. That’s all He ever does – make rules.
He’s so tiresome sometimes.’
“Why don’t you go on with your story, Aphrael?’
“Very well.’ The ChildGoddess looked at the knights.
“The spirits have colours, and they have a purpose,’ she told them. “I think you’ll have to settle for that at the moment. One of the things they do is to make worlds.
Bhelliom – which isn’t its real name – made the blue ones. Seen from afar, this world is blue, because of its oceans. Other worlds are red, or green or yellow or any of countless other colours. These spirits make worlds by attracting the dust that blows forever through the emptiness, and the dust congeals around them like churned butter. But when Bhelliom made this world, it made a mistake. There was too much red dust. Bhelliom’s essence is blue, and it can’t bear red, but when you gather red dust together, you have -‘
‘Iron!’ Tynian exclaimed.
‘And you said they wouldn’t understand,’ Aphrael said reproachfully to Sparhawk. She rushed to Tynian and kissed him several times. ‘Very well then,’ she said happily. ‘Tynian is exactly right. Bhelliom cannot bear iron because iron is red. To protect itself, it hardened its essence of blue into the sapphire – which Ghwerig later carved into the shape of ~ rose. The iron – the red congealed around it, and Bhelliom was trapped within the earth.’
They stared at her, still only vaguely comprehending.
‘Just make it short,’ Sparhawk advised.
‘I am.’
‘It’s your story, Aphrael,’ he shrugged.
“Bhelliom’s been congealed even more because the troll-Gods are trapped inside it,’ she continued.
‘They’re what?’ Sparhawk gasped.
‘Everybody knows that, Sparhawk. Where do you think Ghwerig hid . them from us when we were looking for them?’
He uneasily remembered that Bhelliom and its unwilling inhabitants lay no more than a few inches from his heart.
‘The point of all this is that Sparhawk has threatened to destroy Bhelliom, and because he’s an Elene knight, he’ll probably use his sword – or an axe – or the spear of Aldreas, or something like that – something made of steel, which is to say iron. If he strikes Bhelliom with something made of steel, he will destroy it, and Bhelliom and the Troll-Gods are doing everything in their power to keep him from ever coming near enough to Azash for him to be tempted to raise his sword against it. First they tried to attack his mind, and when that didn’t work, they began to attack yours.
It won’t be long, dear ones, before one of you tries to kill him. ‘
‘Never!’ ~Kalten half-shouted.
“If they continue to twist you, it will happen, Kalten.’
“We’ll fall on our swords first,’ Bevier declared.
‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’ she asked.
‘All you have to do is confine the Jewel in something made of steel. That canvas pouch is marked with the Styric symbols for iron, but Bhelliom and the Troll-Gods are growing desperate, and symbols aren’t enough now.
You’ll have to use the real thing.’
Sparhawk made a sour face, suddenly feeling just a little foolish.
‘I’ve been thinking all along that the shadow – and now that cloud – had come from Azash,’ he confessed.
Aphrael stared at him. ‘You what?’ she exclaimed.
‘It seemed sort of logical,’ he said lamely. ‘Azash has been trying to kill me since this all started.’
‘Why would Azash chase you around with clouds and shadows when He has much more substantial things at His command? Is that the very best all that logic could come up with?’
“I knew it!’ ~Bevier exclaimed. “I knew we were overlooking something when you first told us about that shadow, Sparhawk. It didn’t really have to be Azash after all.’
Sparhawk suddenly felt very foolish.
‘Why is it that I’ve got so much power over Bhelliom?’
he asked her.
‘Because of the rings.’
‘Ghwerig had the rings before I did.’
‘But they were clear stones then. Now they’re red with the blood of your family and the blood of Ehlana’s.’
~Just the colour is enough to make it obey me?’
Aphrael stared at him and then at Sephrenia. ‘Do you mean they don’t know why their blood is red?’
she asked incredulously. ‘What have you been doing sister?’
‘It’s a difficult concept for them, Aphrael.’
The little Goddess stamped away, flinging her arms in the air and muttering Styric words she should not have known existed.
“Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said calmly, ‘your blood is red because it has iron in it.’
‘It has?’ He was stunned. “How’s that possible?’
‘Just believe what I say, Sparhawk. It’s those blood stained rings that give you so much power over the jewel.’
what an amazing thing,’ he said.
Aphrael returned then. “Once Bhelliom is confined in steel, you’ll have no further interference from the troll-Gods,’ she told them. ‘The rest of you will stop plotting to kill Sparhawk, and you’ll all be as one again.’
‘couldn’t you have just told us what to do without all these explanations?’ Kurik asked her. ‘These are Church knights, Flute. They’re used to following orders they don’t understand. They almost have to be.’
“I suppose I could have,’ she admitted, laying one small hand caressingly on his bearded cheek, ‘but I missed you – all of you – and I wanted you to see the place where I live.’
‘Showing off?’ he teased her.
.Well -‘ She blushed slightly. ‘Is that so very, very improper?’
‘It’s a lovely island, Flute, and we’re proud that you chose to show it to us.’
She threw her arms about his neck and smothered him with kisses. Her face, Sparhawk noticed, however, was wet with tears as she kissed the gruff squire.
‘You must return now,’ she told them, “for the night is nearly over. First, however -‘
The kissing went on for quite some time. When the dark-haired little Goddess came to Talen, she brushed her lips lightly against his and then started towards Tynian. She stopped, a speculative look on her face, and then returned to the young thief and did a more complete job on him.
When she moved on, she was smiling mysteriously.
And hath our gentle mistress resolved thy turmoil, Sir Knight?’ the snowy hind asked as the swan-like boat returned the two of them to the alabaster strand where the gaily-coloured pavilion awaited them.
“I will know that with more certainty when mine eyes again open on the mundane world from which she summoned me, gentle creature,’ he replied. He found that he could not help himself. The flowery speech came to his lips unbidden. He sighed ruefully.
The note of the pipes was slightly discordant, a scolding sort of note.
‘An it please thee, dear Aphrael,’ he surrendered.
“That’s much better, Sparhawk.’ The voice was no more than a whisper in his ears.
The small white deer led him back to the pavilion, and he laid him down again, a strange, bemused drowsiness coming over him.