‘He knows what he’s doing. You worry too much. As long as you’re here, could you give me a few details about the top of this tower?’
‘There’s a separate building up there – probably an afterthought of some kind. It’s got three rooms: a guardroom for the platoon or so of ceremonial troops, the cell where Mother and Alean are being held, and a large room across the front. Santheocles spends most of his time there.’
‘Santheocles?’
‘The King of the Cyrgai. He’s an idiot. They all are, but he’s worse than most.’
‘Is there a window in Ehlana’s cell?’
‘A small one. It’s barred, but you couldn’t get through it anyway. The building up there is smaller than the rest of this tower, so there’s a kind of parapet that runs all the way round it.’
‘Do those guards patrol it?’
‘No. There’s no real need for that. It’s the highest place in the city, and the notion that somebody might scale the tower has never occurred to the Cyrgai.’
‘Is Santheocles up there right now?’
‘He was, but I think he might have left since I looked in through the window. Zalasta was with him – and Ekatas. There was some sort of gathering they were planning to attend.’
There was a low whistle, and Sparhawk looked toward the 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 bird-droppings 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 men 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, ignore 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 Klæl,’ 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 Klæl, and Klæl can probably feel Bhelliom.’
‘Even through the gold?’
‘The gold might hide Bhelliom from Cyrgon, but Bhelliom and Klæl 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 Klæl’s now, and that gives me just as much as you have.’ Zalasta sneered. ‘The disguises were very clever, but Klæl 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.’