‘Go ahead, Xanetia,’ Aphrael suggested. ‘I want to look you over before you go into the city. This is important, but I don’t want to put you in any danger. Let’s be sure nobody can see you.’
‘Thou art overly concerned, Divine One. Over the centuries, we of the Delphae have perfected this particular subterfuge.’ She straightened, and her face assumed an expression of almost unnatural calm. Her form seemed to shimmer, and little rainbow flickers of light seethed beneath her plain homespun robe. She blurred and wavered, her form becoming indistinct.
Then she was only an outline, and Sparhawk could clearly see the trunk of the tree behind her.
‘How do you make the things on the other side of you visible?’ Aphrael asked curiously.
‘We bend the light, Divine One. That is at the core of this deception. The light flows around us like a swift-moving stream, carrying with it the images of such objects as our bodies would normally obscure.’
‘Very interesting,’ Aphrael mused. I hadn’t even thought of that possibility.’
‘We must be wary, however,’ Xanetia told the Goddess. ‘Our shadows, like telltale ghosts, can betray us.’
‘That’s simple. Stay out of the sunlight.’
Sparhawk concealed a faint smile. Even a Goddess could give blatantly obvious instructions sometimes.
‘I shall most carefully adhere to thine advice, Divine One,’ Xanetia replied with an absolutely straight face.
‘You’re making fun of me, aren’t you, Xanetia?’
‘Of course not, Divine Aphrael.’ Even the outline was gone now, and Xanetia’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. ‘To work, withal,’ she said, her sourceless voice receding in the direction of the road. I shall return anon.’
‘I’ll have to compliment Edaemus,’ Aphrael said. ‘That’s a very clever means of concealment. Turn around, Sparhawk. I’m going to change back.’
After the Child Goddess had resumed the familiar form of Flute, she and Sparhawk made themselves comfortable and waited as the sun gradually rose. The jungle steamed, and the air was alive with the chattering of birds and the buzzing of insects. The moments seemed to drag. They were so close to Ehlana that Sparhawk almost imagined that he could smell her familiar fragrance. ‘Are Ulath and Tynian here yet?’ he asked, more to get his mind away from his anxious concern than out of any real curiosity.
‘Probably,’ Flute replied. ‘They set out from Arjun yesterday morning. It might have seemed like three weeks to them, but it was no more than a heartbeat for everybody else.’
‘I wonder if they stayed in No-Time or just merged into Scarpa’s army.’
‘It’s hard to say. Maybe I should have checked before Xanetia left.’
Then they heard several men talking on the road. Sparhawk crept closer, with Aphrael just behind him.
‘Because I don’t trust these soldiers, Col,’ a rough-looking fellow was saying to a blond Elene.
‘It’s daytime, Senga. Nobody’s going to ambush your beer wagons in broad daylight.’
‘You can’t be too careful. Money’s running short here in Natayos, and that beer’s the life-blood of my business. A thirsty man who’s running short of money might do anything.’
‘Have you considered lowering your prices?’ an evil-looking fellow with a black eye-patch asked.
‘Bite your tongue, Shallag,’ Senga replied.
‘Just a suggestion,’ the patch-eyed man shrugged.
The dozen or so heavily armed men moved on out of earshot.
‘You recognized them, of course,’ Aphrael murmured to Sparhawk.
‘Kalten and Bevier, yes. I didn’t see Caalador, though,’ He thought for a moment. ‘Will you be all right here? Alone, I mean?’
‘Well, it’s awfully dangerous, Sparhawk – lions and tigers and bears, you know.’
‘It was a silly question, wasn’t it?’
‘I’d say so, yes. What have you got in mind?’
‘Kalten and Bevier are obviously working for that fellow they called Senga. I think I can get them to vouch for me. They seem to have the run of Natayos, so hiring on as a beer-guard would give me a way to get into the city without attracting attention.’
‘Will you be able to restrain yourself when you’re that close to Mother?’
Im not going to do anything foolish, Aphrael.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s all right. You have my permission.’
‘Oh, thank you, Divine Aphrael,’ he said. Thank you, thank you, thank you.’
‘You have a very clever mouth, Sparhawk,’ she said tartly.
‘It’s probably the clever company I’ve been keeping lately,’ he shrugged.
‘I have to run back to Sarna for a little while,’ Aphrael told him. ‘Try to stay out of trouble when you get into the city.’
‘I’ll miss you desperately.’ He grinned.
‘You’re in an odd humor today.’
‘I feel good. If all goes well, I’ll have your mother out of there before the sun goes down.’
‘We’ll see.’
They waited as the sun crept further up in the eastern sky. Then from off to the north they heard the approach of several heavily laden wagons. ‘I’ll keep you posted,’ Sparhawk promised, and he stepped out of the bushes to stand at the side of the muddy road.
The first wagon, drawn by four patient oxen, came creaking around a bend. The wagon-bed was piled high with barrels, and the one known as Senga sat on the seat beside the villainous-looking driver. Kalten, his expression oddly familiar on his altered face, was perched on top of the barrels.
‘Ho, Col,’ Sparhawk called from the roadside. ‘I thought I recognized your voice when you passed here a little while ago.’
‘Well, strike me blind if it isn’t Fron!’ Kalten exclaimed with a broad grin. Sparhawk suddenly wondered what might have happened if Kalten hadn’t recognized him. Kalten was laughing now with genuine delight. ‘We all thought you’d run away to sea when things came apart on us back in Matherion.’
‘It didn’t work out,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘There was a bo’sun on board who was a little too free with his whip. He decided to swim for shore one dark night. I can’t imagine what came over him. We were twenty leagues out to sea when I helped him over the side.’
‘People do strange things sometimes. What are you doing here?’