The Hidden City (72 page)

‘Good God, Vanion!' Emban exclaimed when he saw the Pandion Preceptor. ‘What's happened to you?'

‘I got married, your Grace,' Vanion replied. He smoothed back his mahogany-colored hair. ‘This was one of the wedding presents. Do you like it?'

‘You look ridiculous!'

‘Oh, I wouldn't say that,' Sephrenia disagreed. ‘I rather like it.'

‘I gather that congratulations are in order,' Sarabian said urbanely. There was a marked difference in the Tamul Emperor. He had a self-confidence and a commanding presence that had not been there before. ‘Considering the enormous religious barriers, who performed the ceremony?'

‘Xanetia did, your Majesty,' Vanion replied. ‘Delphaeic doctrine didn't have any objections.'

Sarabian looked around. ‘Where
is
Xanetia?' he asked.

Sephrenia pointed upward with one finger. ‘Out there,' she replied rather sadly, ‘with the rest of the Delphae.'

‘What?' The Emperor's expression was baffled.

‘Edaemus took them, Sarabian,' Flute explained. ‘Evidently he and Bhelliom made some sort of arrangement.' She looked around. ‘Where's Danae?'

‘She's in her room, Divine One,' Baroness Melidere said. ‘She was a little tired, so she went to bed early.'

‘I'd better go tell her that her mother's home,' the Child Goddess said, going toward the door leading back into the rest of the apartment.

‘We've received any number of reports,' Foreign Minister Oscagne said, ‘but they were all couched in generalities – “the war's over, and we won” – that sort of thing. No offense intended, Queen Betuana. Your Atans are excellent messengers, but it's hard to get details out of them.'

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps it's a racial flaw, Oscagne-Excellency.' As she always did now, Betuana stood very close to the silent Engessa. She seemed reluctant to let him get very far away from her side.

‘The thing that puzzles me the most is the rather garbled message I got from my brother,' Oscagne confessed.

‘Itagne-Ambassador has a great deal on his mind just now,' Betuana said blandly.

‘Oh?'

‘He and Atana Maris became quite friendly when he was posted to Cynestra last fall.
He
didn't take it too seriously, but
she
did. She came looking for him. She found him in Cyrga and took him back with her to Cynestra.'

‘Really?' Oscagne said, his face betraying no hint of a smile. Then he shrugged. ‘Oh, well,' he added, ‘it's time that Itagne settled down anyway. As I recall, Atana Maris is a very vigorous young woman.'

‘Yes, Oscagne-Excellency, and very determined. I think your clever brother's days as a bachelor are numbered.'

‘What a shame,' Oscagne sighed. ‘Pardon me a moment.' He went rather quickly into the next room, and they all heard the sounds of muffled laughter coming from there.

And then Danae, her black hair flying, came running into the room to hurl herself into her mother's arms.

Sarabian's face went bleak. ‘Who finally killed Zalasta?' he asked. ‘He was at the bottom of all this, when you get right down to it.'

‘Zalasta isn't dead,' Sephrenia said sorrowfully, lifting Flute into her lap.

‘He
isn't?
How did he manage to get away?'

‘We let him go, your Majesty,' Ulath replied.

‘Are you mad? You
know
the kind of trouble he can stir up.'

‘He won't be causing any more trouble, your Majesty,' Vanion said. ‘Unless he happens to start a few grass-fires.'

‘He won't do that, Vanion,' Flute said. ‘It's a spiritual fire, not a real one.'

‘Will somebody
please
tell me what happened?' Sarabian said.

‘Zalasta shewed up at Sephrenia's wedding, your Majesty,' Ulath told him. ‘He tried to kill Vanion, but Sparhawk stopped him. Then our friend here was just about to do something fairly permanent about Zalasta, but Khwaj asserted a prior claim. Sparhawk considered the politics of the situation and agreed. Then Khwaj set Zalasta on fire.'

‘What a gruesome idea,' Sarabian shuddered. Then he looked at Sephrenia. ‘I thought you said that he isn't dead. Yet Sir Ulath just told me that he'd been burned to death.'

‘No, your Majesty,' Ulath corrected, ‘I just said that Khwaj set fire to him. The same thing happened to Baron Parok.'

‘The Trollish notion of justice sort of appeals to me,' Sarabian said with a bleak smile. ‘How long will they burn?'

‘Forever, your Majesty,' Tynian replied somberly. ‘The fire is eternal.'

‘Good God!'

‘It's further than I'd have gone,' Sparhawk conceded, but as Ulath said, there were political considerations involved.'

They talked until quite late, providing details of the campaign, the rescue of Ehlana and Alean, the freeing of Bhelliom, and the final confrontation between Sparhawk and Cyrgon. Sparhawk rather carefully stressed his surrogacy in that particular event and made some issue of the fact that he was no longer Anakha. He wanted that particular book permanently closed with no doubts remaining in anyone's mind that there was absolutely no way to reopen it.

Also during the course of that long conversation, Sarabian told them of the attempt on his life by Chacole and Torellia. ‘They might have actually pulled it off if it hadn't been for Elysoun,' he concluded, looking fondly at his now-demure Valesian wife.

Mirtai looked at Elysoun with one questioningly-raised eyebrow. ‘Why the change of costume?' she asked bluntly.

Elysoun shrugged. ‘I'm with child,' she replied. ‘I guess my days of adventuring are over.' She looked at Mirtai's puzzled expression. ‘It's a Valesian custom,' she
explained. ‘We're allowed a certain amount of freedom until our first pregnancy. After that, we're supposed to behave ourselves.' She smiled. ‘I'd more or less exhausted the potentials of the imperial compound anyway,' she added. ‘Now it's time to settle down – and catch up on my sleep.'

‘Has anybody heard from Stragen and Caalador?' Talen asked.

‘Viscount Stragen and Duke Caalador came back to Matherion a week ago,' Sarabian replied.

‘New embellishments?' Ehlana asked with some surprise.

‘Rewards for services rendered, Ehlana,' Sarabian smiled. ‘It seemed appropriate. Duke Caalador's accepted a position in the Ministry of the Interior, so he's gone back to Lebas to settle up his affairs there.'

‘And Stragen?'

‘He's on his way to Astel, your Majesty,' Baroness Melidere replied with a bleak smile. ‘He said that he wants to have a few words with Elron.'

‘Did Elron manage to get out of Natayos alive?' Kalten sounded surprised. ‘Ekrasios said that the Shining Ones had obliterated the place.'

‘The word Caalador picked up was that Elron hid out somewhere while the Shining Ones were dissolving Scarpa and Cyzada. Then, after they were gone, he crept out of the ruins and bolted for home. Stragen's going to look him up.' The Baroness looked at Khalad. ‘Krager got out as well,' she told him. ‘Caalador found out that he was bound for Zenga in eastern Cammoria. There's something you should know about Krager, though.'

‘Oh?'

‘Do you remember how King Wargun died?'

‘His liver finally gave out on him, didn't it?'

She nodded. ‘The same thing's happening to Krager.
Caalador talked with a man named Orden in the town of Delo. Krager was completely out of his head when they put him on the ship bound for Zenga.'

‘He's still alive, though, isn't he?' Khalad asked bleakly.

‘If you can call it that,' she sighed. ‘Let it go, Khalad. He wouldn't even feel it if you ran your sword through him. He wouldn't know who you were or why you were killing him.'

‘Thank you, Baroness,' Khalad said, ‘but I think that when we get back to Eosia, Berit and I'll run on down to Zenga just to make sure. Krager's gotten away from us just a few too many times to take any chances. I want to see him in the ground.'

‘Can I come too?' Talen asked eagerly.

‘No,' Khalad replied.

‘What do you mean, no?'

‘It's time for you to start your novitiate.'

‘That can wait.'

‘No, it can't. You're already a half a year late. If you don't start training now, you'll never become proficient.'

Vanion looked approvingly at Sparhawk's squire. ‘Don't forget what we talked about earlier, Sparhawk,' he said. ‘And pass my recommendation on to Dolmant.'

‘What's this?' Khalad asked.

‘I'll tell you about it later,' Sparhawk replied.

‘Oh, by the way, Ehlana,' Sarabian said, ‘as long as the subject's come up anyway, would you be put out with me if I bestowed a title on your little song-bird here?' He smiled fondly at Alean. ‘I certainly hope not, dear heart, because I'm going to do it anyway – for outstanding service to the Empire, if nothing else.'

‘What a splendid idea, Sarabian!' Ehlana exclaimed.

‘I can't really take much credit for the notion of the titles, I'm afraid.' he admitted a bit ruefully. ‘Actually,
they were your daughter's idea. Her Royal Highness is a very strong-minded little girl.'

Sparhawk glanced briefly at his daughter and then at Flute. They wore identical expressions of smug self-satisfaction. Divine Aphrael clearly would not let anything stand in the way of her match-making. Sparhawk smiled briefly and then cleared his throat. ‘Ah – your Majesty,' he said to the Emperor, ‘it's growing rather late, and we're all tired. I'd suggest that we continue this tomorrow.'

‘Of course, Prince Sparhawk,' Sarabian agreed, rising to his feet.

‘A word with you, Sparhawk?' Patriarch Emban said as the others started to file out.

‘Of course.' They waited until they were alone in the room.

‘What are we going to do about Vanion and Sephrenia?' Emban asked.

‘I don't exactly follow you, your Grace.'

‘This so-called marriage is going to put Dolmant in a very difficult position, you know.'

‘It's not a “so-called marriage”, Emban,' Sparhawk said firmly, cutting across the formalities.

‘You know what I mean. The conservatives in the Hierocracy will probably try to use it to weaken Sarathi's position.'

‘Why tell them, then? It's none of their business. A lot of things that our theology can't explain have happened here in Tamuli, your Grace. The Empire's outside the jurisdiction of our Church, so why tell the Hierocracy anything about them?'

‘I can't just lie to them, Sparhawk.'

‘I didn't suggest that. Just don't talk about it.'

‘I
have
to report to Dolmant.'

‘That's all right. He's flexible.' Sparhawk considered it. ‘That's probably your best course anyway. We'll take
Dolmant off to one side and tell him about everything that's happened here. We'll let
him
decide how much to tell the Hierocracy.'

‘You're putting an awful burden on him, Sparhawk.'

Sparhawk shrugged. ‘That's what he gets paid for, isn't it? Now if you'll excuse me, your Grace, there's a family reunion going on that I should probably attend.'

There was a melancholy sense of endings for the next several weeks. They were all fully aware of the fact that once the weather broke, most of them would be leaving Matherion. The likelihood that they would ever gather again was very slight. They savored their moments together, and there were frequent private little interludes when two or perhaps three of them would gather in out-of-the way places, ostensibly to talk at great length about inconsequential matters, but in fact to cement faces, the sounds of voices, and very personal connections forever in their memories.

Sparhawk entered the sitting-room one blustery morning to find Sarabian and Oscagne with their heads together over a bound book of some kind. There was a certain outrage in their expressions. ‘Trouble?' Sparhawk asked.

‘Politics,' Sarabian said sourly. ‘That's always trouble.'

‘The Contemporary History Department at the University has just published their version of recent events, Prince Sparhawk,' Oscagne explained. ‘There's very little truth in it – particularly in light of the fact that Pondia Subat, our esteemed Prime Minister, turns out to be a hero.'

‘I should have deleted Subat as soon as I found out about his activities,' Sarabian said moodily. ‘Who would be the best one to answer this tripe, Oscagne?'

‘My brother, your Majesty,' the Foreign Minister replied promptly. ‘He
is
a member of the faculty, and he
has a certain reputation. Unfortunately, he's in Cynestra just now.'

‘Send for him, Oscagne. Get him back here before Contemporary History contaminates the thinking of a whole generation.'

‘Maris will want to come too, your Majesty.'

‘Fine. Your brother's too clever by half. Let's keep Atana Maris nice and close to him. She might be able to teach him humility.'

‘What are we going to do with the Cyrgai, your Majesty?' Sparhawk asked. ‘Sephrenia says that the curse that confined them was lifted when Cyrgon died, and even though it's not actually their fault, there really isn't any place for them in the modern world.'

‘I've been brooding about that myself,' the Emperor admitted. ‘I think we'll want to keep them away from normal human beings. There's an island about five hundred leagues east of Tega. It's fairly fertile and it has a more or less acceptable climate. Since the Cyrgai are so fond of isolation, it should turn the trick. How long do you think it might take them to invent boats?'

‘Several thousand years, your Majesty. The Cyrgai aren't very creative.'

Sarabian grinned at him. ‘I'd say that's the perfect place, then.'