‘It has a sort of familiar ring to it, doesn’t it, Sparhawk?’ Kalten said with a tight grin. ‘Didn’t Martel – and Annias – have the same sort of notion?’
‘Oh my goodness, yes,’ Ehlana agreed. ‘I feel as if I’ve lived through all of this before.’
‘Where does Krager fit in?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘Krager seems to be some sort of coordinator,’ Caalador replied. ‘He serves as a go-between. He travels a great deal, carrying messages and instructions. We’re guessing about this, but we think that there’s a layer of command between Cyrgon and the people like Scarpa, Parok, Rebal and Sabre. Krager’s known to all of them, and that authenticates his messages. He seems to have found his natural niche in life. Queen Ehlana tells us that he served Martel and Annias in exactly the same way, and he was doing the same kind of thing back in Eosia when he was carrying Count Gerrich’s instructions to those bandits in the mountains east of Cardos.’
‘We should really make some sort of effort to scoop Krager up,’ Ulath rumbled. ‘He starts talking if someone so much as gives him a harsh look, and he knows a great deal about things that make me moderately curious.’
‘That’s how he’s managed to stay alive for so long,’ Kalten grunted. ‘He always makes sure that he’s got so much valuable information that we don’t dare kill him.’
‘Kill him after he talks, Sir Kalten,’ Khalad said.
‘He makes us promise not to.’
‘So?’
‘We’re knights, Khalad,’ Kalten explained. ‘Once we give someone our oath, we’re obliged to keep our word.’
‘You weren’t thinking of knighting me at any time in the immediate future, were you, Lord Vanion?’ Khalad asked.
‘It might be just a little premature, Khalad.’
‘That means that I’m still a peasant, doesn’t it?’
‘Well – technically, maybe.’
‘That solves the problem, then,’ Khalad said with a chill little smile. ‘Go ahead and catch him, Sir Kalten. Promise him anything you have to in order to get him to talk. Then turn him over to me. Nobody expects a peasant to keep his word.’
‘I’m going to like this young man, Sparhawk,’ Kalten grinned.
‘Zalasta’s coming for me, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia told the big Pandion. ‘He’ll escort me safely back to Sarsos.’ She shook her head, refusing to enter the room to which they were returning after lunch.
‘You’re being childish. You know that, don’t you, Sephrenia?’
‘I’ve out-lived my usefulness, and I’ve been around Elenes long enough to know what a prudent Styric does when that happens. As long as a Styric’s useful, she’s relatively safe among Elenes. Once she’s served her purpose, though, her presence starts to be embarrassing, and you Elenes deal abruptly with inconvenient people. I’d rather not have one of you slip a knife between my ribs.’
‘Are you just about finished? Conversations like this bore me. We love you, Sephrenia, and it has nothing to do with whether or not you’re useful to us. You’re breaking Vanion’s heart. You know that, don’t you?’
‘So? He broke mine, didn’t he? Take your problems to Xanetia, since you’re all so enamored of her.’
‘That’s beneath you, little mother.’
Her chin came up. ‘I think I’d rather you didn’t call me that any more, Sparhawk. It’s just a bit grotesque in the present circumstances. I’ll be in my room – if it’s still mine. If it isn’t, I’ll go live in the Styric community here in Matherion. If it’s not too much trouble, let me know when Zalasta arrives.’ And she turned and walked on down the corridor, ostentatiously wearing her injury like a garment.
Sparhawk swore under his breath. Then he saw Kalten and Alean coming down the tiled hallway. At least that particular problem had been resolved. The queen’s maid had laughed in Kalten’s face when the blond knight had clumsily offered to step aside so that she could devote her attentions to Berit. She had then, Sparhawk gathered, convinced Kalten that her affections were still quite firmly where they were supposed to be.
‘But you never leave her side, Sir Kalten,’ the doe-eyed girl accused. ‘You’re always hovering over her and making certain that she has everything she needs or wants.’
‘It’s a duty, Alean,’ Kalten tried to explain. ‘I’m not doing it because I have any kind of affection for her.’
‘You’re performing your duty just a little too well to suit me, Sir Knight.’ Alean’s voice, that marvelous instrument, conveyed a whole range of feelings. The girl could speak volumes with only the slightest change of key and intonation.
‘Oh, God,’ Sparhawk groaned. Why did he always have to get caught in these personal matters? This time, however, he moved quickly to put a stop to things before they got out of hand. He stepped out into the corridor to confront the pair of them. ‘Why don’t we take care of this right now?’ he suggested bluntly.
‘Take care of what?’ Kalten demanded. ‘This isn’t any of your business, Sparhawk.’
‘I’m making it my business. Are you satisfied that Alean doesn’t have any kind of serious feelings for Berit?’
Kalten and the girl exchanged a quick, guilty sort of glance.
‘Good,’ Sparhawk said. ‘My congratulations to you both. Now, let’s clear up this Xanetia business. Kalten was telling you the truth, Alean – as far as he went. His duty obliges him to stay close to her because he’s required to make certain that no harm comes to her. We have an agreement with her people, and she’s here as our hostage to make sure that they don’t go back on their word. We all know that if the Delphae betray us in any way, Kalten will kill Xanetia. That’s why he’s staying so close to her.’
‘Kill?’ The girl’s huge eyes went even wider.
‘Those are the rules, Alean.’ Kalten shrugged. ‘I don’t like them very much, but I have to follow them.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Only if I have to, and I wouldn’t really like it very much. That’s what the word “hostage” means, though. I always seem to be the one who gets these dirty jobs.’
‘How could you?’ Alean said to Sparhawk. ‘How could you do this to your oldest friend?’
‘Military decisions are hard sometimes,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘Are you satisfied now that Kalten’s not straying? You do know, don’t you, that when he thought that you’d fallen in love with Berit, he started going out of his way trying to get himself killed?’
‘You didn’t have to tell her that, Sparhawk,’ Kalten protested.
‘You idiot!’ Alean’s voice climbed effortlessly into the upper ranges. She spoke – at length – to Sparhawk’s friend while he stood hanging his head and scuffing his feet like a schoolboy being scolded.
‘Ah…’ Sparhawk ventured. ‘Why don’t the two of you go someplace private where you can discuss things?’
‘With your leave, Prince Sparhawk,’ Alean agreed with an abrupt little curtsy. ‘You,’ she snapped to Kalten, ‘come with me.’
‘Yes, dear,’ Kalten said submissively, and the two went on back up the corridor.
‘Was that Alean just now?’ Baroness Melidere asked, sticking her head out through the doorway.
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘Where are she and Kalten going?’ she asked, looking after the pair.
‘They have something important to take care of.’
‘Something more important than what we’re discussing in here?’
‘They seem to think so, Baroness. We can manage without them this afternoon, I expect, and it’s a matter that needs clearing up.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘one of those.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Alean will straighten it out,’ Melidere said confidently.
‘I’m sure she will. How’s your campaign going, Baroness? I’m not trying to pry, you understand. It’s just that these matters break my concentration, and I kind of like to have them out of the way so they don’t come bubbling to the surface when I least expect them to.’
‘Everything’s on schedule, Prince Sparhawk.’
‘Good. Have you told him?’
‘Of course not. He doesn’t need to know yet. I’ll break it to him gently when the time comes. It’s actually kinder that way. If he finds out too soon, he’ll just worry about it. Trust me, your Highness. I know exactly what I’m doing.’
‘There’s something I’d sort of like to get cleared up before we go on, Anarae,’ Stragen said to Xanetia. ‘The Tamuls all believe that the Cyrgai were extinct, but Krager and Scarpa say otherwise.’
‘The Cyrgai want the world to believe that they are no more,’ she replied. ‘After their disastrous march on Sarsos, they returned home and concentrated for a time on replenishing their subordinate forces, the Cynesgans, which forces had been virtually annihilated by the Styrics.’
‘So we’ve heard,’ Caalador said. ‘We were told that the Cyrgai concentrated with such single-mindedness that their own women were past child-bearing age before they realized their mistake.’
‘Thine informant spoke truly, Master Caalador, and it is the common belief in Tamuli that the Cyrgai race died out some ten eons ago. That common belief, however, is in error. It is a belief that ignores the fact that Cyrgon is a God. He did not, however, take the blind obedience of his people into account when he commanded them to devote their attentions to the women of the Cynesgans. But when he saw that his chosen race was dying out, he did alter the natural course of such things, and aged Cyrgai women became fertile once more – though most died in childbirth. Thus were the Cyrgai perpetuated.’
‘Pity,’ Oscagne murmured.
‘Knowing, however, that the diminishèd numbers of his worshipers and the Styric curse that imprisoned them in their arid homeland did imperil them, Cyrgon sought to protect them. The Cynesgans were commanded to confirm and perpetuate the belief of the other races of Tamuli that the Cyrgai were no more, and the dread city of Cyrga itself was concealed from the eyes of men.’
‘In the same way that Delphaeus is concealed?’ Vanion guessed.
‘Nay, my Lord. We are more subtle than Cyrgon. We conceal Delphaeus by misdirection. Cyrgon hides Cyrga in the central highlands of Cynesga by means of an enchantment. Thou couldst go to those highlands and ride close by Cyrga and never see it.’
‘An invisible city?’ Talen asked her incredulously.
‘The Cyrgai can see it,’ she replied, ‘and, when it doth suit them so, their Cynesgan underlings can as well. To all others, however, Cyrga is not there.’
‘The tactical advantages of that must be enormous,’ Bevier noted in his most professional tone. ‘The Cyrgai have an absolutely secure stronghold into which they can retreat if things go wrong.’
‘Their advantage is offset, however,’ Xanetia pointed out. ‘They may freely ravage and despoil Cynesga, which is theirs already, and which is no more than a barren waste at best; but they may not pass the boundaries of their homeland. The curse of the Styrics is still potent, I do assure thee. It is the wont of the kings of the Cyrgai to periodically test that curse. Agèd warriors are taken from time to time to the boundary and commanded to attempt a crossing. They die in mid-stride as they obediently march across the line.’
Sarabian was looking at her, his eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘Prithee, Anarae, advise me in this matter. Thou hast said that the Cynesgans are subject to the Cyrgai?’
‘Yes, Majesty.’
‘All Cynesgans?’
‘Those in authority, Imperial Sarabian.’
‘The king? The government? The army?’
She nodded.
‘And their ambassadors as well?’ Oscagne added.
‘Very good, Oscagne,’ Itagne murmured to his brother. ‘Very, very good.’
‘I didn’t quite follow that,’ Ulath admitted.
‘I did,’ Stragen told him. ‘We’d probably better look into that, Caalador.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
‘Do you know what they’re talking about, friend Engessa?’ Kring asked.
‘It’s not all that complicated, Kring,’ Ehlana explained. ‘The Cynesgan embassy here in Matherion is full of people who take their orders from the Cyrgai. I’d guess that if we were to look into the matter, we’d find that the headquarters of the recent attempt to overthrow the Emperor was located in that embassy.’
‘And if he’s not out of town, we might even find Krager there as well,’ Khalad mused. ‘Talen, how long would it take you to teach me how to be a burglar?’
‘What have you got in mind?’ Sparhawk asked his squire.
‘I thought I might creep into that embassy and steal Krager, my Lord. Since Anarae Xanetia can tell us what he’s thinking, we wouldn’t even have to break his fingers to make him talk – or make him any inconvenient promises that we probably didn’t intend to keep anyway.’
‘I sense thy discontent, Anakha,’ Xanetia said later when she, Sparhawk and Danae had returned to the fortified roof of the central tower of Ehlana’s castle.
‘I’ve been had, Anarae,’ he said sourly.
‘I do not recognize the expression.’
‘He means that he’s been duped,’ Danae translated, ‘and he’s being impolite enough to imply that I have too.’ She gave her father a smug little smile. ‘I told you so, Sparhawk.’
‘Spare me, please.’
‘Oh, no, father. I’ve got this wonderful chance to gloat. You’re not going to rob me of it. If I remember correctly – and I do – I was against the idea of retrieving Bhelliom from the very beginning. I knew that it was a mistake, but you bullied me into agreeing.’
He ignored that. ‘Was any of it real? The Troll-Gods? Drychtnath? The monsters? – or was it all just some elaborate game designed to get me to bring Bhelliom to Tamuli?’
‘Some of it may have been real, Sparhawk,’ she replied, ‘but you’ve probably put your finger on the actual reason behind it all.’