Ulath nodded. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see a new king on the throne before long.’
‘What exactly did Parok say about Natayos? You couldn’t have mistaken his meaning, could you?’
‘Not a chance, Tynian. Just before he got into the argument with Duke Milanis, Parok said that Scarpa wanted to move his army out of Natayos before they gave Sparhawk the last note. I almost started cheering when he said that they were going to tell Sparhawk to go to Natayos for the exchange.’
‘We’ll have to be careful, though. They could be holding Ehlana someplace else. They may not take her to Natayos until the last minute.’
‘We’ll find out for sure once Xanetia goes there,’ Ulath shrugged.
The door to the book-lined room opened, and a liveried servant hurried in. ‘An important message has arrived from Natayos, Baron,’ he told Parok. ‘The messenger rode his horse half to death.’
‘Horses are cheap. Send the fellow in.’
‘I could learn to dislike that man,’ Tynian murmured.
‘I already do,’ Ulath replied. He looked up speculatively. ‘We’re sort of invisible, aren’t we?’ he asked.
That’s what Ghnomb says.’
‘Can you imagine the expression Parok would get on his face if he suddenly got ripped up the front with an invisible knife?’
‘Slowly,’ Tynian added. ‘Very, very slowly.’
The messenger from Natayos was a shabbily dressed Dacite, and he was reeling with exhaustion as he staggered into the room. ‘Baron,’ he gasped. ‘Thank God I found you.’
‘Speak up, man!’
‘Could I have a drink of water?’
‘Talk first. Then you can drink anything you want.’
‘Lord Scarpa ordered me to tell you that the man you’ve been watching isn’t Sparhawk.’
‘I see that Scarpa’s finally gone completely mad.’
‘No, Baron. Zalasta confirmed it. Somebody they call Klæl went and had a look at this man you’ve been giving the notes to. They seemed to think you’d know who this Klæl fellow is. Anyway, he sent word that the man with the broken nose looks like Sparhawk, but it’s not really him. This Klæl must have some way to know for sure.’
Parok began to swear sulphurously.
‘That tears it,’ Tynian growled. ‘I’ll pass this on to Aphrael. We’d better get Berit and Khalad to safety.’
‘Did Scarpa kill Sparhawk’s wife?’ Baron Parok asked the messenger.
‘No, my Lord Baron. He was going to, but Zalasta stopped him. I’m supposed to tell you not to do anything to let the imposter know that we’re on to him. Zalasta needs some time to move the prisoners to someplace that’s safe. He wants you to continue as if nothing had happened. After he has those two women clear, he’ll get word to you that it’s all right to kill the man who’s posing as Sparhawk.’
‘Zalasta’s in full command then?’
‘Yes, Baron Parok. Lord Scarpa’s a bit – ah – distraught, I suppose you might say.’
‘You might say crazy, too. That’d be more accurate.’ Parok started to pace the floor. ‘I wondered how much it would take to push Scarpa over the edge,’ he muttered. ‘It’s probably better this way anyhow. Zalasta’s a Styric, but at least his head’s on straight. Go back and tell him that I’ve received his message and that I won’t do anything to upset his plans. Let him know that I have no real fondness for Scarpa and that I’ll be completely loyal to him.’
‘I will, my Lord Baron.’
Duke Milanis rose and crossed the room to close the window. ‘What in God’s name is that awful smell?’ he exclaimed.
Tynian turned and saw the hulking Troll standing just behind them. ‘Bhlokw,’ he said, ‘it is not good that you come into the dens of the man-things this way.’
‘I was sent by Khwaj, Tin-in,’ Bhlokw explained. ‘Khwaj grows tired of waiting. He wants to burn the wicked ones always.’
Then their dim half-moment suddenly filled with smoke, and the enormous presence of the Fire-God was there. ‘Your hunt takes too long, Ulath-from-Thalesia. Have you found any of the wicked ones yet? If you have, point out which one it is. I will make it burn forever.’
Tynian and Ulath exchanged a long look. Then Tynian grinned wolfishly. ‘Let’s,’ he said.
‘Why don’t we?’ Ulath agreed. He looked at the flickering God of Fire. ‘Our hunt has been successful, Khwaj,’ he declared. ‘We have found one of the ones who stole Anakha’s mate. You can make it burn forever now.’ He paused. There are others we also hunt, though,’ he added. ‘We do not want to frighten them away so that they will be harder to hunt. Can Ghnomb put the one we have found into No-Time? You can burn it always there. When it burns in No-Time, the others of its herd will not smell the smoke or hear the crying out with hurt, and so they will not run away.’
‘Your thought is good, Ulath-from-Thalesia,’ Khwaj agreed. I will talk with Ghnomb about this. He will make it so that the one who burns always burns in the time which does not move. Which one of these should I burn?’
‘That one,’ Ulath replied, pointing at Baron Parok.
Duke Milanis was turning from the window when he suddenly stopped, becoming a statue in mid-stride.
Baron Parok continued his restless pacing. ‘We’re going to have to start taking extra precautions,’ he said, not yet realizing that the men around him were no longer moving. Then he turned and almost bumped into the exhausted messenger from Natayos. ‘Get out of my way, idiot!’ he snapped.
The man did not move.
‘I told you to take a message to Zalasta,’ Parok raged. ‘Why are you still here?’ He struck the messenger across the face and cried out in pain as his hand hit something harder than stone. He looked around wildly. ‘What’s the matter with all of you?’ he demanded in a shrill voice.
‘What did it say?’ Khwaj’s voice was dreadful.
Parok gaped at the vast Troll-God, shrieked, and ran for the door.
‘It does not understand that it is now in No-Time,’ Ulath replied in Trollish.
‘It should know why it is being punished,’ Khwaj decided. ‘Will it understand if you talk to it in the bird-noises of the man-things?’
‘I will make it understand,’ Ulath promised.