The Shining Ones (38 page)

‘It’s me, Sephrenia – Kalten. Unlock the door.’

‘Go away.’ Her voice was muffled.

This is important.’

‘Leave me alone.’

Kalten sighed. It was going to be one of
those
days. ‘Please, little mother,’ he tried again.

‘Just go away.’

‘If you don’t open the door, I’ll have to use magic on it.’

‘Magic?
You?
’ She laughed scornfully.

Kalten leaned back, raised his right leg and drove his booted heel against the latch. He kicked it twice more, and the door splintered and burst open.

‘What are you
doing?
’ she screamed at him.

‘Haven’t you ever seen Elene magic before, little mother?’ he asked her mildly. ‘We use it all the time. You don’t mind if I come in, do you?’ He stepped through the splinter-littered doorway. ‘We thought you might be a little lonesome and that maybe you needed somebody to yell at. Vanion wanted to come, but I wouldn’t let him.’

‘You? Since when have you started ordering Vanion around?’

‘I’m bigger than he is – and younger.’

‘You get out of my room!’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.’ He glanced toward her window. ‘You’ve got a nice view from here. You can see all the way down to the harbor. Shall we get started? Screaming and hitting are all right, but please don’t turn me into a toad. Alean wouldn’t like that.’

‘Who sent you here, Kalten?’

‘I already told you. It was my own idea. I wouldn’t let Vanion come because you’re upset right now. You might say something to him that you’d both regret later. You can say anything you want to
me,
Sephrenia. You can’t hurt
my
feelings.’

‘Go away!’

‘No, I won’t do that. Would you like to have me make you a nice cup of tea?’

‘Just leave me alone!’

‘I already told you no.’ Then he took her by the shoulders and enfolded her in a huge bear-hug. She struggled against him, but he was absolutely immovable. ‘Your hair smells nice,’ he noted.

She began to pound on his shoulders with her fists. ‘I
hate
you!’

‘No, you don’t,’ he replied calmly. ‘You couldn’t hate me even if you wanted to.’ He continued to hold her. ‘It’s been very mild this autumn, hasn’t it?’

‘
Please
leave me alone, Kalten.’

‘No.’

She started to cry, clutching at his doublet and burying her face in his chest. ‘I’m so
ashamed
!’ she wept.

‘Of what? You didn’t do anything wrong. Zalasta tricked you, that’s all. He tricked the rest of us as well, so you’re no more to blame than we are.’

‘I’ve broken Vanion’s heart!’

‘Oh, I don’t think so – not really. You know Vanion. He can endure almost anything.’

The storm of her weeping continued – which was more or less what Kalten had in mind. He pulled a handkerchief out of the sleeve of his doublet and gave it to her, still not relaxing his embrace.

‘I’ll never be able to face them again,’ she wailed.

‘Who? You mean the others? Of course you will. You made a fool of yourself, that’s all. Everybody does that now and then.’

‘How
dare
you!’ She began to pound on him again.

Kalten
really
wished she’d get past that part of it. ‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’ he said gently. ‘Nobody’s blaming you for it, but it’s true all the same. You did what you thought was right, but it turned out to be wrong. Everybody’s wrong sometimes, you know. There aren’t any perfect people.’

‘I’m so ashamed!’

‘You already said that. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice cup of tea?’

‘You should rest now, Anarae,’ Sarabian said solicitously. ‘I hadn’t realized how exhausting this would be for you.’

She smiled at him. ‘Thou art kind, Sarabian of Tamuli, but I am not so fragile as that. Let us proceed. It had been in the mind of Zalasta that he might by diverse inducements corrupt Anakha in his youth and thus gain access to Bhelliom without the need for perilous confrontation, but Sephrenia and Aphrael did closely attend the childhood and youth of Bhelliom’s champion, once again and all unknowingly thwarting Zalasta’s design.

‘Then did Zalasta conclude that he had no choice but to approach Anakha as an enemy rather than a convert, and consulted he with Ogerajin and with Otha and went he even to Cimmura to seek allies to assist him. In
furtherance of this did he pose as one of the numerous Zemoch Styrics Otha had sent into the Elene kingdoms to sow dissension and turmoil.’

‘There were plenty of those, all right,’ Ulath said. ‘Rumor had it that a Zemoch Styric could give an Elene anything he wanted – provided that the Elene wasn’t too attached to his soul.’

‘The blandishments such Styrics offered were many,’ Xanetia agreed, ‘but the understanding of Otha’s agents was limited.’

‘Profoundly limited,’ Vanion agreed.

‘Truly. Zalasta, however, was more subtle, and far more patient. He did find an apt pupil in the person of the young chaplain to the royal house of Elenia, a priest named Annias.’

‘
Annias
?’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know that he was ever the royal chaplain.’

‘It was before you were born,’ Sparhawk told her.

‘
That
would explain why he had so much control over my father. Are you saying that Zalasta was behind all that, Anarae?’

Xanetia nodded.

‘It isn’t really all that easy to corrupt a young priest,’ Bevier objected. ‘They’re usually filled with zeal and idealism.’

‘And Annias was no exception,’ Xanetia replied. ‘He was ambitious, but in his youth was he ever true to the ideals of his Church. That idealism stood in Zalasta’s path until he found means to wear it away.’ She paused, flushing slightly. ‘I would not offend thee, Majesty,’ she apologized to Ehlana, ‘but thine aunt was ever lustful and wanton.’

‘It doesn’t offend me in the slightest, Anarae,’ Ehlana replied. ‘Arissa’s appetites were legendary in Cimmura, and I was never really all that fond of her in the first place.’

‘There was some connection, then?’ Melidere asked.

‘Indeed, Baroness,’ Xanetia replied. ‘Princess Arissa was the means whereby Zalasta recruited Annias to his cause. Well schooled by the voluptuary Ogerajin, did Zalasta introduce the wanton princess to…’ She broke off, blushing furiously.

‘You needn’t go into detail, Xanetia,’ Ehlana told her. ‘We all knew Arissa, and we knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t do.’

‘In truth was she an apt pupil,’ Xanetia agreed. ‘Now Zalasta concluded that Annias would be useful to him by reason of his position as advisor to thy father. Thus did he implant the firm belief in the mind of thy corrupt aunt that no act could be so vile as the seduction of a young priest, and that notion, once implanted, did obsess Arissa, and ‘ere long it bore fruit. In her twelfth year did Arissa steal away the dubious virtue of thy father’s chaplain.’

‘At the age of
twelve
?’ Melidere murmured. ‘She
was
precocious, wasn’t she?’

‘Then Annias was consumed with remorse,’ Xanetia continued.

‘Annias?’ Ehlana scoffed. ‘He didn’t know what the word meant.’

‘You may be wrong there, my Queen,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘I knew Annias when he was a young man. He was totally committed to the principles of the Church. It wasn’t until later that he began to change. Sparhawk’s father and I always wondered what had happened to him.’

‘Evidently Arissa happened,’ Ehlana said dryly. She pursed her lips. ‘Then Zalasta gained access to Annias by means of my aunt?’ she guessed.

Xanetia nodded. ‘The young priest, after much prayer and meditation, did resolve to renounce his vows and to wed the tarnished princess.’

‘A marriage made in heaven,’ Ulath noted sardonically.

‘Arissa, however, would have none of such union, for so insatiable was her nature that she soon grew tired of her ecclesiastical paramour and did taunt him by reason of his waning prowess and stamina. At Zalasta’s insinuating suggestion, however, did she bring her exhausted convert to a certain house in Cimmura, and there did Zalasta hint that he might restore the waning vigor of Annias by means of Styric enchantments. Thus did he secure a firm grip on the soul of him who would become Primate of Cimmura.’

‘We knew that Annias was getting help from one of Otha’s Styrics,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We had no idea it was Zalasta, though. He had a hand in virtually everything, didn’t he?’

‘He is most clever, Anakha. Patiently did he instruct his two ever more willing pupils in that depravity which he himself had learned under the tutelage of Ogerajin of Verel. The royal chaplain was central to his plan, but first was it necessary to corrupt him beyond all hope of redemption.’

‘He did
that
part of it well enough,’ Ehlana said bleakly.

‘Step by step did Arissa, guided by Zalasta, lead the chaplain down and down until all semblance of decency had been washed from him, and then it was that the Styric proposed the ultimate degeneracy – that the lustful princess, aided by her now equally foul paramour, should seduce thy father, her brother, and when he should be wholly in her thrall, should she broach the idea of incestuous marriage to him. Zalasta did well know that Anakha’s father would resist such abomination to the death, and hoped he thereby to separate the house of Sparhawk from the royal house of Elenia. Reckoned he not, however, upon the iron will of the
Sparhawks nor the weakness of King Aldreas. The elder Sparhawk compelled thy father to wed another, but in truth had Zalasta’s goal been achieved. A breach had been opened between the two houses.’

‘But we’ve healed that breach, haven’t we, Sparhawk?’ Ehlana said with a warm smile.

‘Frequently,’ he replied.

‘What can I
do?
’ Sephrenia wailed, wringing her hands.

‘You can stop doing that, for one thing,’ Kalten told her, gently separating her hands. ‘I found out a little while ago just how sharp your fingernails are, and I don’t want you tearing off your skin.’

She looked guiltily at the fresh scratches on his face. ‘I hurt you, didn’t I, dear one?’

‘It’s nothing. I’m used to bleeding.’

‘I’ve treated Vanion so badly,’ she mourned. ‘He’ll never forgive me, and I love him.’

‘Then tell him so. That’s all you really have to do, you know. Just tell him how you feel about him, say you’re sorry, and everything will go back to being the way it was before.’

‘It won’t
ever
be the same.’

‘Of course it will. As soon as you two are back together, Vanion will forget it ever happened.’ He took her two small hands in his great ones, turned them over, and kissed her palms. ‘That’s what love’s all about, little mother. We all make mistakes. The people who love us forgive the mistakes. The people who won’t forgive don’t really matter, now, do they?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘There aren’t any buts, Sephrenia. It’s so simple that even
I
can understand it. Alean and I trust our feelings, and it seems to work out fairly well. You don’t really need complicated logic when it comes to something as simple as love.’

‘You’re such a good man, Kalten.’

That embarrassed him a bit. ‘Hardly,’ he replied ruefully. ‘I drink too much, and I eat too much. I’m not very refined, and I usually can’t follow even a simple thought from one end to the other. God knows I’ve got faults, but Alean knows about them and forgives them. She knows that I’m just a soldier, so she doesn’t expect too much from me. Are you just about ready for that cup of tea?’

‘That would be nice,’ she smiled.

‘Now
that
comes as a real surprise,’ Vanion said, ‘but why Martel?’

‘Zalasta did perceive that of all the Pandions, Martel came closest to being a match for Anakha,’ Xanetia replied, ‘and Martel’s hunger for the forbidden secrets provided Zalasta with an opening. The Styric did pose as an unlettered and greedy Zemoch, and did accept Martel’s gold with seeming eagerness. Thus did he beguile the arrogant young Pandion until there was no turning back for him.’

‘And all this time he was posing as Otha’s emissary?’ Bevier asked her.

‘Yes, Sir Knight. He served Otha’s design so long as it suited him, but his heart and mind remained his own. Truly, he did corrupt Primate Annias and the Pandion Martel for his
own
ends, which did ever center upon that day when Anakha would lift Bhelliom from the place where it lay hidden.’

‘But it wasn’t Anakha who lifted it, Anarae. It was Aphrael, and none of Zalasta’s scheming could have taken that into account.’

They all turned quickly at the sound of the familiar voice. Sephrenia, her face still drawn, stood in the doorway with Kalten hovering behind her. ‘Zalasta might possibly have been able to take the stone from
Sparhawk, but not Aphrael. That’s where everything fell apart on him. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that
anyone
– even a God – would willingly surrender Bhelliom to someone else. Maybe someday I’ll explain it to him.’

‘I have seen into the mind of Zalasta, Sephrenia of Ylara,’ Xanetia told her. ‘He could not comprehend such an act.’

‘I’ll
make
him understand, Anarae,’ Sephrenia replied in a bleak voice. ‘I have this group of big savage Elenes who love me – or so they say. I’m sure that if I ask them nicely enough, they’ll
beat
understanding into Zalasta.’ And she smiled a wan little smile.

Ehlana rose from her chair, went to Sephrenia, and kissed her palms in greeting. Sparhawk often marveled at how his young wife instinctively knew the right thing to do. ‘We’ve missed you, little mother,’ she said simply. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

A faint smile touched Sephrenia’s lips. ‘Exactly how do you define “better”, Ehlana?’ She looked closely at the blonde queen. ‘You’re not getting enough sleep.’ Even now, Sephrenia automatically mothered everybody.

‘You look a bit drawn yourself,’ Ehlana replied. ‘I suppose we both have reason enough.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Sephrenia looked around at the slightly apprehensive faces of her friends. ‘Oh, stop that,’ she told them. ‘I’m not going to throw a fit. I behaved badly.’ She reached up and fondly touched Kalten’s cheek. ‘My overbearing friend here tells me that it doesn’t matter, but I’d still like to apologize.’

‘You had plenty of reason to be upset,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘We were very abrupt with you.’

‘That’s no excuse, dear one.’ She drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and crossed the room to Xanetia with the air of one about to perform an unpleasant duty. ‘We don’t really have any reason to be fond of each other, Anarae,’ she said, ‘but we should at least be civil. I wasn’t. I’m sorry.’

‘Thy courage becomes thee, Sephrenia of Ylara. I do confess that I would be hard pressed thus to admit a fault to an enemy.’

‘Exactly what did Sir Kalten do to bring you around, Lady Sephrenia?’ Sarabian asked curiously. ‘You were in absolute despair, and Kalten wouldn’t have been my first choice as a comforter.’

‘That’s because you don’t know him, Sarabian. His heart is very large, and he demonstrates his affection in a very direct way. He kicked my door down and smothered me into submission.’ She thought about it for a moment. ‘About all he really did was wrap his arms around me and tell me that he loved me. He kept saying it over and over again, and every time he said it, it struck me right to the heart. Elenes are very good bullies. I screamed at him for a while, and he ignored me. Then I tried hitting him, but hitting Kalten is sort of like pounding on a brick. I even tried crying – I’ve always had good luck with crying – but all he did was offer to make me a cup of tea.’ She shrugged. ‘After a while, I realized that he was going to continue to love me no matter what I did and that all I was really doing was making a fool of myself, so here I am.’ She smiled at Alean. ‘I don’t know if you realize it, dear, but you may just be the luckiest woman in the world. Don’t let him get away.’

‘No fear of that, Lady Sephrenia,’ the soft-eyed girl responded with a rosy blush.

Sephrenia looked around, suddenly all business. ‘I’m sure we have more important things to discuss than my recent temper-tantrum. Have I missed much?’

‘Oh, not really, dear sister,’ Stragen drawled. ‘About all we’ve discovered so far is that Zalasta’s been responsible for nearly every catastrophe in human history since the fall of man. We don’t have
quite
enough evidence to implicate him in
that
yet.’

‘We’re a-workin’ on it, though,’ Caalador added.

Sparhawk briefly summarized what Xanetia had told them of the hidden side of Zalasta. Sephrenia was also startled to learn that it had been Zalasta who had corrupted Martel.

‘I’m not trying to be offensive, dear sister,’ Stragen said, ‘but it seems to me that the Younger Gods weren’t quite firm enough in dealing with these renegade Styrics. They seem to lend themselves to just about every bit of mischief that comes along. Something a bit more permanent than banishment might have been a better solution.’

‘The Younger Gods wouldn’t do that, Stragen.’

‘Pity,’ he murmured. ‘That sort of leaves it up to us, then, doesn’t it? We’ve got a group of people out there who are highly skilled at causing trouble.’ His expression grew sly. ‘Here’s a notion,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you have somebody draw up a list of names and give it to me. I’ll see to it that the Secret Government takes care of all the messy details. We wouldn’t even need to bother the Younger Gods or the rest of Styricum about it. You propose, and I’ll dispose. Call it a personal favor if you like.’

‘You’re a depraved man, Stragen.’

‘Yes. I thought you might have noticed that.’

‘What did Zalasta do after Sparhawk destroyed Azash?’ Talen asked Xanetia. ‘Didn’t that teach him that he’d be wiser to stay clear of our friend here?’

‘He was much chagrined, young master. Anakha had demolished decades of patient labor in a single night, and with Bhelliom firmly in his grasp, he was more dangerous than ever. Zalasta’s hopes of wresting the jewel from him were dashed, and he fled from Zemoch in rage and disappointment.’

‘And when he ran away, he missed seeing Sparhawk throw Bhelliom into the sea,’ the boy added. ‘So far as he knew, Sparhawk still had it in his pocket.’

She nodded. ‘Returned he to Verel to consult with Ogerajin and diverse other renegades concerning this disastrous turn of events.’

‘How many of them are there, Lady?’ Kalten asked. ‘And what are they like? It’s always good to know your enemies.’

‘They are many, Sir Kalten, but four – in addition to Zalasta and Ogerajin – are most significant. They are the most powerful and corrupt in all of Styricum. Ogerajin is by far the foulest, but his powers are waning by reason of a loathsome disease which doth eat away at his mind.’ Xanetia suddenly looked uncomfortable, and she even blushed. ‘It is one of those ailments which do infect they who engage overmuch in bawdry.’

‘Ah…’ Sarabian came to her aid. ‘I don’t know that we need to get
too
specific about Ogerajin’s disease. Why don’t we just say that he’s incapacitated and let it go at that? Who are the others, Anarae?’

She gave him a grateful look. ‘Cyzada of Esos is the most versed in the darker aspects of Styric magic, Emperor Sarabian,’ she replied. ‘Residing close by the eastern frontier of Zemoch, had he frequent contacts with the half-Styric, half-Elene wizards of that accursed land, and did he learn much from them. Reaches he with some facility into the darkness which did surround the mind of Azash, and can he summon certain of the creatures which served the Elder God.’

‘Damorks?’ Berit asked. ‘Seekers?’

‘The Damorkim perished with their master, Sir Knight. The fate of the Seekers is uncertain. Cyzada fears to summon such as they, for only Otha could surely control them.’

‘That’s something, anyway,’ Khalad said. ‘I’ve heard some stories that I’d rather not have to confirm in person.’

‘In addition to Cyzada, Zalasta and Ogerajin have
allied themselves with Ptaga of Jura, Ynak of Lydros, and Djarian of Samar,’ Xanetia continued.

‘I’ve heard of them,’ Sephrenia said darkly. ‘I wouldn’t have believed Zalasta could sink so low.’

‘Bad?’ Kalten asked her.

‘Worse than that. Ptaga’s a master of illusion who can blur the line between reality and imagining. It’s said that he conjures up the images of various women for the pleasure of the degenerates who pay him, and that the images are even better than reality could be.’

‘Evidently he’s branching out,’ Oscagne noted. ‘It would appear that he’s creating the illusions of the monsters now instead of pretty ladies. That would explain all the vampires and the like.’

‘Ynak’s reputed to be the most contentious man alive,’ Sephrenia went on. ‘He can start centuries-long feuds between families just by walking past their houses. He’s probably behind the upsurge of racial hatred that’s contaminating the Elene kingdoms to the west. Djarian is probably the pre-eminent necromancer in the world. It’s said that he can raise people who never even really existed.’

‘Whole armies?’ Ulath asked her. ‘Like those antique Lamorks or the Cyrgai?’

‘I doubt it,’ she replied, ‘although I can’t be sure. It was Zalasta who told us it was impossible, and he may have been lying.’

‘I’ve got a question, Anarae,’ Talen said. ‘Can you
see
what Zalasta’s thinking as well as hear it?’

‘To some degree, young master.’

‘What are you getting at, Talen?’ Sparhawk asked him.

‘You remember that spell you used to put Krager’s face in that basin of water back in Platime’s cellar in Cimmura?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘A name’s just a name,’ Talen noted, ‘and these particular Styrics probably aren’t running around announcing themselves. Stragen suggested getting rid of them earlier. Wouldn’t pictures make that a lot easier? If Xanetia can see Zalasta’s memories of what those people look like and let me see them too, I could draw pictures of them. Then Stragen could send the pictures to Verel – or wherever those Styrics are – and Zalasta would suddenly lose some people he’s been counting on rather heavily. I think we owe him
that
much, anyway.’

‘I like the way this boy thinks, Sparhawk,’ Ulath grinned.

‘Thy plan is flawed, young master,’ Xanetia said to Talen. ‘The spell of which thou didst speak is a Styric spell, and I have no familiarity with it.’

‘Sephrenia could teach it to you.’ He shrugged.

‘You’re asking the impossible, Talen,’ Bevier told him. ‘Sephrenia and Xanetia have only recently reached the point where they can be in the same room without wanting to kill each other. There’s a lot of trust involved in teaching – and learning – spells.’

Xanetia and Sephrenia, however, had been exchanging a long, troubled look. ‘Don’t be too quick to throw away a good idea, Bevier,’ Sephrenia murmured. ‘It
has
got some possibilities, Anarae,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘The notion probably makes your skin crawl as much as it does mine, but if we could ever learn to trust each other, there could be all manner of things we might be able to accomplish. If we could combine your magic with mine…’ She left it hanging.

Xanetia pursed her lips, and her expression oddly mirrored Sephrenia’s. So intense was her consideration of the notion that her control slipped a bit, and her face began to glow. ‘The alliance between our two races
did
almost bring the Cyrgai to their knees,’ she noted, also rather tentatively.

‘In diplomatic circles this is the point at which the negotiators usually adjourn so that they can consult with their governments,’ Oscagne suggested.

‘The Anarae and I aren’t obliged to get instructions from either Sarsos or Delphaeus, your Excellency,’ Sephrenia told him.

‘Most diplomats aren’t either.’ He shrugged. ‘The announcement “I must consult with my government” is merely a polite way of saying “Your suggestion is interesting. Give me some time to think it over and get used to the idea.” You ladies are breaking new ground. I’d advise you not to rush things.’

‘What say you, Sephrenia of Ylara?’ Xanetia said, smiling shyly. ‘Shall we pause for a fictional consultation with Sarsos and Delphaeus?’

‘That might not be such a bad idea, Xanetia of Delphaeus,’ Sephrenia agreed. ‘And as long as we both know that it’s fiction, we won’t have to waste time waiting for non-existent messengers to make imaginary journeys before we speak of it again.’

‘After the destruction of the city of Zemoch and all who dwelt there, did Zalasta and his cohorts meet in Verel to consider their course,’ Xanetia picked up the story. ‘Concluded they at once that they were no match for Anakha and Bhelliom. It was Ogerajin who did point out that Zalasta’s tentative alliance had been with
Otha,
and that there had been no direct contact with Azash. He did speak slightingly to Zalasta concerning this and Zalasta’s rancor regarding those words doth linger still.’

‘That’s always useful,’ Vanion observed. ‘Dissension among your enemies can usually be exploited.’

‘The presence of the contentious Ynak doth heighten their discord, Lord Vanion. Ogerajin did berate Zalasta, demanding to know if he were so puffed-up as to think himself the equal of a God, for Ogerajin doth consider
Anakha to be such – or very nearly – because of his access to Bhelliom.’

‘How does it feel to be married to a God, Ehlana?’ Sarabian teased.

‘It has its moments,’ she smiled.

‘Cyzada of Esos then joined their discussion,’ Xanetia continued. ‘He did rather slyly suggest alliance with one or more of the myriad demi-gods of the nether world, but his companions trusted him not, for he alone is conversant with the Zemoch spells which do raise and control such creatures of darkness. Indeed, trust is slight in that unwholesome company. Zalasta hath placed the ultimate prize before them, and well doth he know that each of them doth secretly covet sole possession of the jewel. Theirs is an uneasy alliance at best.’

‘What did they finally decide to do, Anarae?’ Kring asked. Sparhawk had noticed that the Domi seldom spoke at these meetings. Kring was not really comfortable indoors, and the subtleties of politics which so delighted Ehlana and Sarabian quite obviously bored him. Peloi politics were straightforward and simple – and usually involved bloodshed.

‘It was the consensus of their deliberations that they might find – for a price – willing helpers in the imperial government itself,’ Xanetia replied.

‘They were right about that,’ Sarabian said sourly. ‘If what we saw yesterday is any indication, my ministers were standing in line to betray me.’

‘It wasn’t really personal, my Emperor,’ Oscagne assured him. ‘We were betraying each other, not you.’

‘Did anyone ever approach you?’

‘Several, actually. They couldn’t offer me anything I really wanted, though.’

‘Truth in politics, Oscagne?’ his brother asked in feigned astonishment. ‘Aren’t you setting a bad precedent?’

‘Grow up, Itagne,’ Oscagne told him. ‘Haven’t you learned by now that you can’t deceive Sarabian? He claims to be a genius, and he’s probably very close to being right – or will be as soon as we peel away his remaining illusions.’

‘Isn’t that a blunt sort of thing to say, Oscagne?’ Sarabian asked pointedly. ‘I’m right here, you know.’

‘Why – so you are, your Majesty,’ Oscagne replied with exaggerated astonishment. ‘Isn’t that amazing?’

Sarabian laughed. ‘What can I do?’ he said to Ehlana. ‘I need him too much to even object. Why didn’t you tell me about this, Oscagne?’

‘It happened when you were still feigning stupidity, your Majesty. I didn’t want to wake you. I may have met this Ynak you’ve been talking about, Anarae. One of the men who approached me was Styric, and I’ve never met a more disagreeable man. I’ve come across goats who smelled better, and the fellow was absolutely hideous. His eyes looked off in different directions, and his teeth were broken and rotting, and they all seemed to stick straight out. He looked like a man with a mouthful of brown icicles.’