The Shining Ones (44 page)

‘What is?’

‘Bhelliom manipulated me! After I stole the rings from Ghwerig – or maybe even before – it put the notion into the rings themselves. I
know
it did. I no sooner took those rings than the idea occurred to me to separate them by giving one of them to your ancestor and the
other to Ehlana’s. This has all be
Bhelliom’s
scheme! That – that thing
used
me!’

‘My, my,’ Sparhawk said blandly.

‘And it was so
clever
!’ she fumed. ‘It seemed like such a good idea! Your blue friend and I are going to have a long talk about this!’

‘You were telling us how you forced Sephrenia to become our tutor, I believe,’ he said.

‘I commanded her to do it – after coaxing wouldn’t work. First I ordered her to take the rings to that pair of bleeding savages, and then I took her to your mother-house at Demos and compelled her to become your tutor. I had to have her there to keep your family on the right track. You’re Anakha, and I knew I’d need some kind of hold on you. Otherwise, Bhelliom would have had you all to itself, and I didn’t trust it enough to let
that
happen.’

‘Then you
did
plan all this in advance,’ Sparhawk said just a bit sadly.

‘Bhelliom may have planned it first,’ she said darkly. ‘I was absolutely sure it was my idea. I thought that if I just happened to be your daughter, you’d at least pay some attention to me.’

He sighed. ‘It was all completely calculated, then, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the way I feel about you. I had a great deal to do with inventing you, Sparhawk, so I do really love you. You were a darling baby. I almost disassembled Kalten when he broke your nose. Sephrenia talked me out of it, though. Mother was a different story. You were sweet, but she was adorable. I loved her from the first moment I saw her, and I knew you two would get on well together. I’m really rather proud of the way things have turned out. I even think Bhelliom approves – of course it would never admit it. Bhelliom’s so stuffy sometimes.’

‘Did your cousin Setras actually go into the Basilica and talk with Dolmant?’ Vanion asked her suddenly.

‘Yes.’

‘How did Dolmant take it?’

‘Surprisingly well. Of course, Setras can be very charming when he wants to be, and Dolmant
is
fond of me.’ She paused, her dark eyes speculative. ‘I think his Archprelacy’s going to bring about some rather profound changes in your Church, Vanion. Dolmant’s mind isn’t absolutely locked in stone the way Ortzel’s is. I think Elene theology’s going to change a great deal while he’s Archprelate.’

‘The conservatives won’t like that.’

‘They never do. Conservatives wouldn’t even change their underwear if they didn’t have to.’

‘That’s extremely questionable from a legal standpoint, your Majesty,’ Oscagne said. ‘I’m not personally questioning your word, Anarae,’ he added quickly, ‘but I think we can all see the problem here. All we’ll have in the way of evidence is Xanetia’s unsubstantiated testimony about what somebody’s thinking. Even the most pliable of judges is likely to choke a bit on that. These are going to be very difficult cases to prosecute – particularly in view of the fact that some of the accused are going to be members of the great families of Tamuli proper.’

‘You might as well go ahead and tell them all of it, Stragen,’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘You’re going to carry out your plan anyway, and they’ll worry over legal niceties for weeks if you don’t tell them.’

Stragen winced. ‘I really wish you hadn’t brought it up, old boy,’ he said in a pained voice. ‘Their Majesties are official personages, and they’re more or less obliged to observe the strict letter of the law. They’d both be
much more comfortable if they didn’t know too many details.’

‘I’m sure they would, but all this fretting about building iron-clad court cases is wasting time we should be spending on other problems.’

‘What’s this?’ Sarabian asked.

‘Milord Stragen and Master Caalador are contemplating something along the lines of what you might call legal shortcuts, your Majesty – in the interests of expediency. Do you want to tell them, Stragen? Or do you want me to do it?’

‘You go ahead. It might sound better coming from you.’ Stragen leaned back, still brooding over his two gold coins.

‘Their plan’s very simple, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk told the Emperor. ‘They propose that instead of rounding up all these conspirators, spies, informers and the like, we just have them murdered.’

‘What?’
Sarabian exclaimed.

‘That was a very blunt way to put it, Sparhawk,’ Stragen complained.

‘I’m a blunt man.’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Actually, your Majesty, I sort of approve of the notion. Vanion’s having a little trouble choking it down, though.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Justice is a funny thing,’ he observed. ‘She’s only partly interested in punishing the guilty. What she’s
really
interested in is deterrence. The idea is to frighten people into avoiding crime by doing unpleasant things – publicly – to the criminals who get caught. But as Stragen pointed out, most criminals know that they probably won’t
get
caught, so all the police and the courts are
really
doing is justifying their continued employment. He suggests that we bypass the police and the courts and send out the murderers some night very soon. The next morning, everybody even remotely connected with Zalasta and his renegade Styrics would
be found with his throat cut. If we want a deterrent, that would really be the most effective one. There wouldn’t be any acquittals or appeals or imperial pardons to confuse the issue. If we do it that way, everybody in all of Tamuli will have nightmares about the fruits of treason for years afterward. I approve of the idea for tactical reasons, though. I’ll leave justice to the courts – or the Gods. I like the idea because of the damage it would do to Zalasta. He’s a Styric, and Styrics usually try to get what they want by deception and misdirection. Zalasta’s set up a very elaborate apparatus to gain his ends without a direct confrontation. Stragen’s plan would destroy that apparatus in a single night, and only madmen would be willing to join Zalasta after that. Once the apparatus is gone, he’ll
have
to come out in the open and fight. He’s not good at that, but we are. This would give us the chance to fight this war on our own terms, and that’s always an enormous tactical advantage.’

‘
And
we can pick our own time,’ Caalador added. ‘The timing would be very important.’

‘They wouldn’t be expecting it; that’s one thing,’ Itagne noted.

‘There are rules, Itagne,’ his brother objected. ‘Civilization’s based on rules. If
we
break the rules, how can we expect others to follow them?’

‘That’s the whole point, Oscagne. Right now, the rules are protecting the criminals, not society as a whole. We can wriggle around and come up with some kind of legalistic justification for it afterward. About the only real objection I have is that these – ah – agents of government policy, shall we say, won’t have any official standing.’ He frowned for a moment. ‘I suppose we could solve that problem by appointing Milord Stragen to the post of Minister of the Interior and Master Caalador to that of Director of the Secret Police.’

‘
Real
secret, your Excellency,’ Caalador laughed. ‘
I
don’t even know who most of the murderers are.’

Itagne smiled. ‘Those are the best kind, I suppose.’ He looked at the Emperor. ‘That
would
put a slight stain of legality on the whole business, your Majesty – in the event that you decide to go ahead with it.’

Sarabian leaned thoughtfully back in his chair. ‘I’m tempted,’ he said. ‘A blood-bath like this would insure domestic tranquility in Tamuli for at least a century.’ He shook off his expression of wistful yearning and sat up. ‘It’s just too uncivilized. I couldn’t approve of something like that with Lady Sephrenia and Anarae Xanetia watching me and sitting in judgement.’

‘What are
your
feelings, Xanetia?’ Sephrenia asked tentatively.

‘We of the Delphae are not over-concerned with niceties and technicalities, Sephrenia.’

‘I didn’t think you would be. Good is good, and bad is bad, wouldn’t you say?’

‘It seemeth so to me.’

‘And to me as well. Zalasta’s hurt the both of us, and Stragen’s massacre would hurt
him.
I don’t think either of us would object too much to something that would cause him pain, would we?’

Xanetia smiled.

‘It’s your decision, then, Sarabian,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Don’t look to Xanetia and me for some excuse
not
to make it.
We
find nothing objectionable in the plan.’

‘I’m profoundly disappointed in both of you,’ he told them. ‘I was hoping you’d get me off the hook. You’re my last chance, Ehlana. Doesn’t this monstrous notion turn
your
blood cold?’

‘Not particularly.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m an Elene –
and
a politician. As long as we don’t get caught with bloody knives in our
own
hands, we can always wriggle out of it.’

‘Won’t
anyone
help me?’ Sarabian actually looked desperate.

Oscagne gave his Emperor a penetrating look. ‘It has to be your decision, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I personally don’t like it, but I’m not the one who has to give the order.’

‘Is it always like this, Ehlana?’ Sarabian groaned.

‘Usually,’ she replied quite calmly. ‘Sometimes it’s worse.’

The Emperor sat staring at the wall for quite some time. ‘All right, Stragen,’ he said finally. ‘Go ahead and do it.’

‘That’s mother’s darling boy,’ Ehlana said fondly.

‘No, Caalador,’ Sparhawk said, ‘as a matter of fact, it
won’t
take three or four weeks. I have access to a faster way to get from place to place.’

‘That won’t do any good, Sparhawk,’ the ruddy-faced Cammorian objected. ‘The people in the Secret Government won’t take orders from
you.’

‘I won’t be giving the orders, Caalador,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘You
will.’

Caalador swallowed. ‘Are you sure it’s safe to travel that way?’ he asked doubtfully.

‘Trust me. How many people will we have to get word to?’

Caalador threw an uncomfortable glance at Sarabian. ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

‘I won’t use the information, Caalador,’ the Emperor assured him.

‘You and I know that, your Majesty, but rules are rules. We like to keep our numbers just a little vague.’

‘Generalize, Caalador,’ Ehlana suggested. ‘A hundred? Five hundred?’

‘Not hordly that many, dorlin’,’ he laughed. ‘Ther ain’t
no
pie whut kin be cut into
that
many pieces.’ He squinted a bit anxiously at Stragen. ‘Let’s just say more than twenty and less than a hundred and let it go at that, shall we? I’d rather not get my
own
throat cut.’

‘That’s general enough,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I won’t turn you in for that, Caalador.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘Two or three days, then,’ Sparhawk said.

‘Let’s not start passing the word around until after the Anarae pulls her net through Krager’s mind tomorrow morning,’ Stragen said.

‘Thou art fond of that particular metaphor, Milord Stragen,’ Xanetia noted in a slightly disapproving tone.

‘I’m not trying to be offensive, Anarae. I’m groping for a way to explain something I couldn’t begin to understand, that’s all.’ Stragen’s face grew bleak. ‘If Krager really knows about the Secret Government, he’s probably infiltrated it, and there’ll be
some
people out there we won’t want to tell about this.’

‘And whose names we’ll be adding to our list,’ Caalador added.

‘Just how long
is
your list, Master Caalador?’ Oscagne asked.

‘You don’t really need to know that, your Excellency,’ Caalador replied in a tone that clearly said that he wasn’t going to discuss the matter. ‘Let’s pick a date – something that sort of stands out in people’s minds. Thieves and cutthroats aren’t all that good at reading calendars.’

‘How about the Harvest Festival?’ Itagne suggested. ‘It’s only three weeks away, and it’s celebrated in all of Tamuli.’

Caalador looked around. ‘Can we wait that long?’ he asked. ‘It
would
be the perfect time. Our murderers would have three nights to get the job done instead of one, and there’s lots of noise and confusion during the Harvest Festival.’

‘And lots of drinking,’ Itagne added. ‘The whole continent gets roaring drunk.’

‘It’s a general holiday, then?’ Bevier asked.

Itagne nodded. ‘Technically it’s a religious holiday. We’re supposed to thank the Gods for a bountiful harvest. Most people can get that out of the way in about a half a minute, and that leaves them three days and nights to get into trouble. The harvest crews are all paid
off, they take their annual baths, and then head for the nearest town in search of mischief.’

‘It’s made to order for our purposes,’ Caalador added.

‘Will you be ready to move your forces against the Trolls in three weeks, Lord Vanion?’ Sarabian asked.

‘More than ready, your Majesty. We weren’t planning to gather them all in one place anyway. The detachments from each garrison are only platoon-sized, and a platoon can move faster than a battalion. They’re all moving toward staging areas along the Atan border.’

‘Do we want to hit them all at the same time?’ Kalten asked.

‘We could go any one of three ways on that,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We can hit the Trolls first and pull Zalasta’s attention to northern Atan, or we can murder the conspirators first and send him scurrying around the continent trying to salvage what he can of his organization, or we can do it simultaneously and see if he can be in a hundred places all at the same time.’

‘We can decide that later,’ Sarabian said. ‘Let’s get word to the murderers first. We
know
that we want them to go to work during the Harvest Festival. The military situation’s more fluid.’

‘Let’s make a special point of eliminating Sabre, Parok and Rebal this time,’ Stragen said to Caalador. ‘Evidently the Atans missed them in the last general round-up. Those Elene kingdoms in western Tamuli are standing between Sir Tynian and Matherion, and as long as those three trouble-makers are alive, he’s going to have rough going. Is there any way we could get Scarpa as well?’

Caalador shook his head. ‘He’s holed up in Natayos. He’s turned it into a fortress and filled it with fanatics. I couldn’t
pay
a murderer enough to try to kill him. The only way we’ll get Scarpa is to mount a military expedition.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Sephrenia murmured. ‘The death of his only son would definitely twist a knife in Zalasta’s belly.’

‘Savage,’ Vanion accused affectionately.

‘Zalasta killed my family, Vanion,’ she replied. ‘All I want to do is return the favor.’

‘That sounds fair to me,’ he smiled.

‘I’m still dead set against it,’ Stragen said stubbornly when he, Sparhawk and Ulath met in the hallway a bit later.

‘Be reasonable, Stragen,’ Ulath said. ‘It won’t hurt anything to see what they have to say, will it? I’m not going to just turn them loose without any restrictions at all, you know.’

‘They’ll agree to anything to get their freedom, Ulath. They might
promise
to pull the Trolls out of Atan – or even to help us deal with Zalasta and Cyrgon – but once they get back to Thalesia, they won’t feel obligated to honor any commitments. We’re not even members of the same species as their worshipers. We’re just animals in their eyes. Would you feel obliged to keep promises you made to a bear?’

‘That would depend on the bear, I suppose.’

‘The Troll-Gods might break promises they make to
us
,’ Sparhawk said, ‘but they won’t break faith with Bhelliom, because Bhelliom can re-absorb them if they try any tricks.’

‘Well,’ Stragen said doubtfully, ‘I want to be sure everybody understands that I don’t like this, but I guess it won’t hurt to hear what they have to say. I want to be present, though. I don’t altogether trust you, Ulath, so I want to hear the promises you give them.’

‘Do you understand Trollish?’

Stragen shuddered. ‘Of course not.’

‘You’re going to have a little difficulty following the conversation, then, don’t you think?’

‘Sephrenia’s going along, isn’t she? She can translate for me.’

‘Are you sure you trust
her
?’

‘That’s a contemptible thing to say.’

‘I thought I’d ask. When do you want to do this, Sparhawk?’

‘Let’s not be premature,’ Sparhawk decided. ‘I still have to take Caalador around to talk with his friends. Let’s get that all set up and make sure that the Atans Vanion’s calling in are in the staging areas before we broach the subject to the Troll-Gods. There’s no point in getting them excited until we need them.’

‘I think we’ll want to be out in the countryside when we talk with them,’ Ulath suggested. ‘When we tell them that Cyrgon’s stolen their worshipers, their screams of outrage might shatter all the sea-shells off the walls of Matherion.’

‘His mind is much fogged by drink,’ Xanetia reported about mid-morning the next day after she and Berit had returned from the Cynesgan embassy, ‘and it is difficult to wring consistency from it.’

‘Does he have any suspicions at all, Anarae?’ Stragen asked with a worried expression.

‘He doth know that thou hast set thieves and beggars to watch him in the past, Milord Stragen,’ she replied, ‘but it is his thought that thou – or young Talen – must make these arrangements in each city and that one of ye must go there to speak with each chief separately.’

‘He don’t know nothin’ about the Sekert Gover-mint?’ Caalador pressed, speaking in dialect for some obscure reason.

‘His understanding of thy society is vague, Master Caalador. Cooperation of such nature is beyond his
grasp, for Krager himself is incapable of it, being guided only by immediate self-interest.’

‘What a splendid drunkard!’ Stragen exulted. ‘Let’s all pray that he never sobers up!’

‘
A-men
!’ Caalador agreed fervently. ‘Well, Sporhawk, why don’t yew have a talk with this yere jool o’ yourn, an me’n you’ll go a-hippety-skippin’ ‘round about Tamuli. We got us folks t’ see an’ th’otes t’ cut.’

Xanetia’s face took on a pained expression.

Caalador was badly shaken the first few times Bhelliom whisked him half-way across the continent, but after that he seemed to grow numb. It took him about a half-hour each time to pass instructions to the various criminal chiefs of Tamuli, and Sparhawk strongly suspected that the ruddy-faced Cammorian settled his shaken nerves with strong drink at each stop. Sparhawk could not be sure, of course, since he was quite firmly excluded from the discussions. ‘You don’t need to know who these people are, Sparhawk,’ Caalador said, ‘and your presence would just make them nervous.’

Vanion’s small Atan detachments were streaming into the staging areas along the Atan border from all over Tamuli, and Tikume had promised several thousand eastern Peloi in addition to the three hundred bowmen Kring had taken with him back to Atana. Bhelliom took Sparhawk and Vanion to the Atan capital so that they could reassure Betuana that they
were
in fact marshaling forces to come to her aid,
and
to explain why they were holding
most
of that aid at the border. ‘The Trolls wouldn’t understand the significance of those reinforcements, Betuana-Queen,’ Vanion told her, ‘but Cyrgon’s completely versed in strategy and tactics. He’d understand what was going on immediately. Let’s not give him any hints about what we’re doing until we’re ready to strike.’

‘Do you really think you can spring surprises on a God, Vanion-Preceptor?’ she asked. Betuana was dressed in what passed for armor among the Atans, and her face clearly showed that she had been functioning on short sleep for weeks.

‘I’m certainly going to
try
, Betuana-Queen,’ Vanion replied with a brief smile. ‘I think it’s fairly safe to say that Cyrgon hasn’t had a new thought in the last twenty thousand years. Military thinking’s changed a great deal in that time, so he probably won’t fully understand what we’re up to.’ He made a wry face. ‘At least that’s what I’m
hoping,
’ he added.

And then it reached the point where they could not put it off any longer. None of them were really comfortable with the idea of chatting with the Troll-Gods, but the time had come to put Ulath’s notion to the test.

About an hour before dawn of the day none of them had really been looking forward to, Sparhawk and Vanion went to Sephrenia’s room to speak with Sephrenia, Xanetia and Danae. Their discussions struck a snag almost immediately.

‘I
have
to go along, Sparhawk,’ Danae insisted.

‘That’s out of the question,’ he told her. ‘Ulath and Stragen are going to be there. We can’t let them find out who you really are.’

‘They’re not going to find anything out, father,’ she said with exaggerated patience. ‘It won’t be
Danae
who’ll be going along.’

‘Oh. That’s different, then.’

‘Exactly how are we going to work this, Sparhawk?’ Vanion asked. ‘Won’t you have to release the Troll-Gods in order to talk with them?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Bhelliom says we won’t. The Troll-Gods themselves will still be locked up inside Bhelliom. Their spirits have always been free to roam around, except when Bhelliom’s encased in gold – or
steel. They have a certain limited amount of power in that condition, I guess, but their
real
power’s locked up with them inside the Bhelliom.’

‘Wouldn’t it be safer just to get them to agree to use that limited power rather than to unleash them entirely?’ Vanion asked.

‘It wouldn’t work, dear one,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘The Troll-Gods may encounter Cyrgon, and if they do, they’ll need their full power.’

‘Moreover,’ Xanetia added, ‘I do strongly believe that they will sense our need and bargain stringently.’

‘Are you going to do the talking, Sparhawk?’ Vanion asked.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Ulath knows Trolls – and the Troll-Gods – better than I do, and his Trollish is better than mine. I’ll hold Bhelliom and call the Troll-Gods out and then let him do the talking.’ He looked out the window. ‘It’s almost dawn,’ he said. ‘We’d better get started. Ulath and Stragen are going to meet us down in the courtyard.’

‘Turn your backs,’ Danae told them.

‘What?’ her father asked.

‘Turn around, Sparhawk. You don’t have to watch this.’

‘It’s one of her quirks,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘She doesn’t want anybody to know what she really looks like.’

‘I already know what Flute looks like.’

‘There’s a transition, Sparhawk. She doesn’t go directly from Danae to Flute. She passes through her
real
person on the way from one little girl to the other.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘How many of her are there?’

‘Thousands, I’d imagine.’

‘That’s depressing. I’ve got a daughter I don’t really know.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Danae said. ‘Of course you know me.’

‘But only one of you, a several thousandth part of who you really are – such a tiny part.’ He sighed again and turned his back.

‘It’s not a tiny part, father.’ Danae’s voice changed as she spoke, becoming richer, more vibrant. It was no longer a child’s voice, but a woman’s.

There was a mirror on the far side of the room, a flat sheet of polished brass. Sparhawk glanced at it and saw the wavering reflection of a figure standing behind him. He quickly averted his eyes.

‘Go ahead and look, Sparhawk. It’s not a very good mirror, so you won’t see all that much.’

He raised his eyes and stared at the gleaming brass. The reflection was distorted. About all he could really see was the general size and shape. Aphrael was somewhat taller than Sephrenia. Her hair was long and very dark, and her skin was pale. Her face was hardly more than a blur in that imperfect reflection, but he could see her eyes quite clearly for some reason. There was an ageless wisdom in those eyes and a kind of eternal joy and love. ‘I wouldn’t do this for just anybody, Sparhawk,’ the woman’s voice told him, ‘but you’re the best father I’ve ever had, so I’m stretching the rules for you.’