‘Fall upon thy face in that awful presence, crying “Vanet, tyek Alcor! Yala Cyrgon!” and, should it please him, he will hear thee. And should it please him not, he will destroy thee.
‘Thus, traveler, is the way to the Hidden City which lieth at the heart of Mighty Cyrgon, King and God of all that was, all that is, and all that shall ever be.’
Then the crazed Styric’s face contorted into a grotesque mask of glee, and he began to cackle in a shrill, meaningless giggle.
Chapter 14
‘All right, Sparhawk, you can turn round now.’
‘Are you dressed?’
She sighed. ‘Just a minute.’ There was a satiny rustle. ‘Will this do?’ she asked tartly.
He turned. The Goddess was wrapped in a shimmering white robe. ‘That’s a little better,’ he told her.
‘Prude. Give me your hand.’
He took her slender hand in his and they drifted upward, rising out of the forested hills just east of Dirgis. ‘Sarna’s somewhat to the west of due south,’ he told her.
‘I know where it is.’ Her tone was crisp.
‘I was just trying to be helpful.’
The ground beneath them began to flow back as they sped southwesterly.
‘Can people see us from the ground?’ he asked curiously.
‘Of course not. Why?’
‘Just wondering. It occurred to me that if they can it might explain a lot of the wild stories that crop up in folklore.’
‘You humans are very creative. You can invent wild stories without any help from us.’
‘You’re in a disagreeable frame of mind today. How long is it going to take us to get there?’
‘Just a few minutes.’
‘It’s an interesting way to travel.’
‘It’s overrated.’
They drifted on in silence for a while. ‘That’s Sarna just ahead,’ Aphrael said.
‘Do you think Vanion’s reached here by now?’
‘I doubt it. Later today probably. We’re going down,’ They settled gently to earth in a clearing a mile or so from the northern edge of the city, and Aphrael returned to the more familiar form of Flute. ‘Carry me,’ she said, reaching up to him.
‘You know how to walk.’
‘I just carried you all the way from Dirgis. Fair is fair, Sparhawk.’
He smiled. ‘Only teasing, Aphrael.’ He lifted her into his arms and started through the forest toward town. ‘Where to?’ he asked her.
‘The Atan barracks. Vanion says that Itagne’s there,’ She frowned. ‘Oh, that’s really impossible!’ she burst out.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Sir Anosian’s hopelessly inept. I can’t make any sense out of what he’s saying.’
‘Where is he?’
‘At Samar. He’s trying to tell me about something Kring and Tikume just discovered, but I’m only getting about every third word. Why won’t the man concentrate on his studies?’
‘Anosian’s sort of – ah -’
‘The word you’re looking for is “lazy”, Sparhawk.’
‘He likes to conserve his energy,’ Sparhawk defended his fellow Pandion.
‘Of course he does,’ She frowned. ‘Stop a minute,’ she said.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I just thought of something.’
‘What now?’
‘It just occurred to me that Tynian may have been a little unselective when he was gathering those knights he brought back from Chyrellos.’
‘He brought the best men he could lay his hands on.’
‘I think that’s the problem. I’ve been wondering why I haven’t been getting any reports from Komier. I don’t think Tynian left him a single Pandion who has any more skill than Anosian does. There aren’t all that many of you who can reach out more than a few leagues, and Tynian seems to have inadvertently commandeered them all.’
‘Could you make any sense at all about what Anosian was trying to tell you?’
‘It’s something about breathing. Somebody’s having problems with it. I’ll run on down there after we talk with Itagne. Maybe Anosian can be coherent if I’m in the same room with him.’
‘Be nice.’
They passed through the city gates and entered Sarna. Sparhawk carried the Child Goddess through the narrow streets to the bleak stone fortress that housed the local Atan garrison.
They found the red-mantled Itagne in a large conference room examining the map that covered one entire wall. ‘Ah, Itagne,’ Sparhawk said, ‘there you are.’ He set Flute down on her feet.
‘I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, Sir –?’
‘It’s me, Itagne – Sparhawk.’
‘I’ll never get used to that,’ Itagne said. I thought you were in Beresa.’
‘I was – until yesterday.’
‘How did you get here so fast?’
Sparhawk laid his hand on Flute’s little shoulder. ‘Need you ask?’
‘Oh. What brings you to Sarna?’
‘Vanion ran into trouble out in the desert. He’s coming back. He and Betuana are bringing Engessa in on a litter.’
‘Do you mean there’s somebody in this world big enough to hurt Engessa?’
‘Perhaps not in this world, Itagne,’ Aphrael told him. ‘Klæl’s brought in an army from someplace else. They’re very strange. Vanion and Betuana should get here this afternoon. Then Betuana has to go to Atan. How far is that?’
Itagne looked at the map. ‘Fifteen leagues.’
‘Good. It shouldn’t take her long, then. She has to get her God’s permission for me to take Engessa to the island. The side of his head’s been bashed in, and I can’t fix that here.’
‘Good God!’ Itagne exclaimed.
‘How nice of you to notice.’
He smiled faintly. ‘What else is going on?’ he asked.
‘Quite a bit,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Zalasta tried to kill Sephrenia.’
‘You’re not serious!’
‘I’m afraid so. We had to use Bhelliom to save her life.’
‘Sparhawk!’ Itagne’s eyes widened.
‘It’s all right Itagne,’ Aphrael assured him, going across the room to him and holding out her hands.
‘Didn’t that endanger Queen Ehlana?’ he asked, lifting her into his lap.
Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Xanetia can muffle those telltale noises, I guess. Ehlana’s still safe – or so Bhelliom tells me.’ His face, however, was worried.