‘He must have been in a hurry,’ Stragen said, still puzzling over Sparhawk’s terse note.
‘He’s never been very good at writing letters,’ Talen shrugged, ‘except for that one time when he spent days composing lies about what we were supposedly doing on the Isle of Tega.’
‘Maybe that took it all out of him,’ Stragen folded the note and looked closely at it. ‘Parchment,’ he said. ‘Where did he get his hands on parchment?’
‘Who knows? Maybe he’ll tell us when he comes back. Let’s go take a walk on the beach. I need some exercise.’
‘All right.’ Stragen picked up his cloak, and he and the younger thief went downstairs and out into the street.
The southern Tamul Sea was calm, and the moon-path across its dark surface was unbroken and very bright. ‘Pretty,’ Talen murmured when the two reached the damp sand at the edge of the water.
‘Yes,’ Stragen agreed.
‘I think I’ve come up with something,’ Talen said.
‘So have I,’ Stragen replied.
‘Go ahead.’
‘No, let’s hear yours first.’
‘All right. The Cynesgans are massing on the border, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘A good story could un-mass them.’
‘I don’t think there is such a word.’
‘Did we come here to discuss vocabulary? What will the Cynesgans do if they hear that the Church Knights are coming? Wouldn’t they almost have to send an army to meet them?’
‘I think Sparhawk and Vanion want to keep the fact that the knights are coming more or less a secret.’
‘Stragen, how are you going to keep a hundred thousand men a secret? Let’s say that I tell Valash that I’ve picked up a very reliable report that a fleet of ships flying Church banners has rounded the southern tip of Daconia bound for Kaftal. Wouldn’t that cause the other side some concern? Even if they know about the knights coming across Zemoch, they’d still have to send troops to meet that fleet. They couldn’t ignore the possibility that the knights are coming at them from two different directions.’
Stragen suddenly laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You and I have been running together for too long, Talen. We’re starting to think alike. I came up with the idea of telling Valash that the Atans are going to cross the steppes of eastern Astel and strike down into northern Cynesga toward the capital.’
‘Nice plan,’ Talen said.
‘So’s yours,’ Stragen squinted out across the moon-bathed water. ‘Either story’s strategically credible,’ he mused. ‘They’re exactly the kind of moves a military man would come up with. What we’re really planning is a simultaneous strike from the east and the west. If we can make Cyrgon believe that we’re going to hit him from the north and south instead, we’ll pull him so far out of position that he’ll never be able to get his armies back to meet our real attacks.’
‘Not to mention the fact that we’ll cut his army in two.’
‘We’ll have to be careful though,’ Stragen cautioned. I don’t think even Valash is gullible enough to swallow these stories if we drop them both on him at the same time. We’ll have to spread them out and dribble them to him bit by bit. What I’d really like to do is let the fairy-tale about the Atans come from someone other than me.’
‘Sparhawk could probably get Aphrael to arrange that,’ Talen suggested.
‘If he ever comes back. His note was a little vague. We can get things rolling, though. Let’s modify your story a bit. Push your make-believe fleet back to Valesia. Give Cyrgon some time to worry about it before we pinpoint Kaftal as the final destination. I’ll plant a couple of ambiguous hints about the Atans massing up near their northwestern frontier. We’ll let things stand that way until Sparhawk comes back.’
Talen sighed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘This is almost legal, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose you could say so, yes. Is there some problem with that?’
‘If it’s legal, why am I having so much fun?’
‘Nothing?’ Ulath asked, opening the neck of his red uniform jacket.
‘Not a peep,’ Tynian replied. ‘I cast the spell four times, and I still can’t raise her.’
‘Maybe she’s busy.’
‘It’s possible, I guess.’
Ulath rubbed at his cheek reflectively. ‘I definitely think I’ll shave off Sir Gerda’s beard,’ he muttered. ‘You know, it could be that it’s because we’re in No-Time. When we did this the first time – back in Pelosia – none of our spells worked.’
‘I think this spell’s different, Ulath. I’m not really trying to do anything. I just want to talk with Aphrael.’
‘Yes, but you’re mixing magic. You’re trying to use a Styric spell when you’re up to your ears in a Trollish one.’
‘Maybe that’s it. I’ll try again when we get to Arjun and go back into real time.’
Bhlokw came shambling back through the grey light of Ghnomb’s frozen moment, passing a flock of stationary birds hanging in the air. ‘There are some of the dens of the man-things in the next valley,’ he reported.
‘Many or few?’ Ulath asked him.
‘Many,’ Bhlokw replied. ‘Will the man-things have dogs there?’
‘There are always dogs near the dens of the man-things, Bhlokw.’
‘We should hurry then.’ The shaggy Troll paused. ‘What do the man-things call this place?’
‘It is the place Arjun – I think.’
‘That is the place where we want to go, is it not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘The wicked ones have told the one called Berit to go there. It is our thought that we should go there in Ghnomb’s broken moment and listen to the bird-talk of the man-things. One of the man-things may say where the wicked ones will tell the one called Berit to go next. It may be that the next place will be the place where Anakha’s mate is. It would be good to know this.’
Bhlokw’s shaggy brow furrowed as he struggled his way through that. ‘Are the hunts of the man-things always so not-simple?’ he asked.
‘It is the nature of our kind to be not-simple.’
‘Does it not make your head hurt?’
Ulath smiled, being careful not to show his teeth. ‘Sometimes it does,’ he admitted.