The Hidden City (71 page)

There had been questions, naturally, but Sparhawk had put them to rest by explaining that everything that had happened had been Bhelliom's doing, and that he had only been its instrument – which was not
exactly
a lie.

They spent the day quietly and gathered again as the sun went down and the shadows of evening settled over the valley. A strange sense of anticipation had nagged at Sparhawk all afternoon. Something was going to happen here. Bhelliom had told him that he would behold a wonder, and that was not the kind of word Bhelliom would use lightly.

The shadows of evening deepened, and Sparhawk and the other men escorted Vanion down to the shore of the glowing lake to await the bride's party while the Shining Ones once again sang the ancient hymn which had been so abruptly broken off the previous evening.

Then the bride appeared at the gate with the Queen of Elenia at her side and the other ladies close behind them. The Child Goddess, whirling and dancing in the air and with her clear voice raised in flute-song, preceded them, again strewing their path with flower petals.

Sephrenia's face was serene as she came down the
path to the lake. As the small Styric bride approached the man whom two major religions had forbidden her to marry, her personal Goddess provided a visible symbol that
she,
at least, approved. The stars had just begun to appear overhead, and one of them seemed to have lost its way. Like a tiny comet, a brilliant spark of light descended over the radiant Sephrenia and settled gently on her head as a glowing garland of spring flowers.

Sparhawk smiled gently. The similarity to the crowning of Mirtai during her rite of passage was a little too obvious to miss.

‘Critic,' Aphrael's voice accused.

‘I didn't say anything.'

‘Well, don't.'

Sephrenia and Vanion joined hands as the Delphaeic hymn swelled to a climax. And then Xanetia, all aglow and accompanied by two other glowing forms, one white and the other blue, came walking across the lake. A yearning kind of murmur passed through the Delphae, and, as one, they sank reverently to their knees.

The Anarae tenderly embraced her Styric sister and kissed Vanion chastely on the cheek. ‘I have entreated Beloved Edaemus to join with us here and to bless this most happy union,' she told the assemblage, ‘and he hath brought with him this other guest, who also hath some interest in our ceremony.'

‘Is that blue one who I think it is?' Kalten muttered to Sparhawk.

‘Oh, yes,' Sparhawk replied. ‘That's the form it took back in Cyrga, remember? – After I stuffed it down Klæl's throat.'

‘I was a little distracted at that point. Is that what it
really
looks like? After you peel off all the layers of sapphire, I mean?'

‘I don't really think so. Bhelliom's a spirit, not a form.
I think this particular shape is just a courtesy – for our benefit.'

‘I thought it had already left.'

‘No, not quite yet.'

The glowing form of Edaemus straightened, somehow managing to look uncomfortable. Xanetia's face hardened and her eyes narrowed.

‘I had thought ill of thee, Sephrenia of Ylara,' the God of the Delphae admitted. ‘Mine Anarae hath persuaded me that my thought was in error. I do entreat thee to forgive me.' Gentle Xanetia, it appeared, was not above a certain amount of bullying.

Sephrenia smiled benignly. ‘Of course I forgive thee, Divine Edaemus. I was not entirely blameless myself, I do confess.'

‘Let us all then pray to our separate Gods to bless the union of this man and this woman,' Xanetia said in formal tones, ‘for methinks it doth presage a new birth of understanding and trust for all of mankind.'

Sparhawk was a little dubious about that, but like the others, he bowed his head. He did not, however, direct his words to his Elene God. ‘Blue Rose,' he sent out his thought.

‘Art thou praying, my son?' The answering voice sounded slightly amused.

‘Consulting, Blue Rose,' Sparhawk corrected. ‘Others will direct our entreaty to our Elene God, and I do perceive that the time fast approaches when thou and I must part.'

‘Truly.'

‘I thought to take this opportunity to ask a boon of thee.'

‘If it be within my power.'

‘I have seen the extent of thy power, Blue Rose – and in some measure shared it. It is uncandid of thee to suggest that there are
any
limits to what thou canst do.'

‘Be nice,' Bhelliom murmured. It seemed quite fond of that particular phrase. ‘What is this boon, my son?'

‘I do entreat thee to take
all
thy power with thee when thou dost depart. It is a burden I am unprepared to accept. I am thy son, Blue Rose, but I am also a man. I have neither the patience nor the wisdom to accept responsibility for what thou hast bestowed upon me. This world which thou hast made hath Gods in plenty. She doth not need another.'

‘Think, my son. Think of what thou dost propose to surrender.'

‘I have, my father. I have been Anakha, for it was needful.' Sparhawk struggled for a way to put his feelings into archaic Elenic. ‘When I did as Anakha confront the Styric Zalasta, I did feel a great detachment within myself, and that detachment abideth within me still. It seemeth me that thy gift hath altered me, making me more – or less – than a man. I would, an it please thee, no longer be “patient Anakha” or “curious Anakha” or “implacable Anakha”. Anakha's task is finished. Now, with all my heart, I would be Sparhawk again. To be “loving Sparhawk” or even “irritated Sparhawk” would please me far more than the dreadful emptiness which is Anakha.'

There was a long pause. ‘Know that I am well-pleased with thee, my son.' There was pride in the silent voice in Sparhawk's mind. ‘I find more merit in thee in this moment than in any other. Be well, Sparhawk.' And the voice was gone.

The wedding ceremony was strange in some ways and very familiar in others. The celebration of the love that existed between Vanion and Sephrenia was there, but the preaching which so marred the Elene ritual was not. At the conclusion, Xanetia gently laid her hands in loving benediction upon the heads of the two she had
just joined. The gesture seemed to proclaim that the ceremony was at an end.

But it was not.

The second of the two figures which had accompanied Xanetia across the luminous waters of the lake stepped forward, all glowing blue, to add its own benediction. It raised its hands over the man and the woman, and for a brief moment they shared its azure incandescence. And when the light faded, Sephrenia had subtly changed. The cares and weariness which had marked her face in a dozen tiny ways were gone, and she appeared to be no older than Alean. The changes Bhelliom's glowing touch had wrought on Vanion were more visible and pronounced. His shoulders, which had imperceptibly slumped over the years, were straight again. His face was unlined, and his silvery hair and beard were now the dark auburn Sparhawk dimly remembered from the days of his novitiate. It was Bhelliom's final gift, and nothing could have pleased Sparhawk more.

Aphrael clapped her hands together with a squeal of delight and flew into the arms of the nebulous, glowing figure which had just rejuvenated her sister and Vanion.

Sparhawk rather carefully concealed a smile. The Child Goddess had finally maneuvered Bhelliom into a position where she could unleash the devastating effects of her kisses upon it. The kisses
could,
of course, have been pure, effusive gratitude – but they probably weren't.

The wedding was at an end, but the glowing Delphae did not return to their empty city. Xanetia placed one supporting arm around Anari Cedon's frail old shoulders and guided him instead out onto the radiant surface of the lake, and the Shining Ones followed, raising a different hymn as incandescent Edaemus hovered in the air above them. The light of the lake grew brighter
and brighter, and the ethereal glow of the Delphae seemed to merge, and individual figures were no longer distinguishable. Then, like the point of a spear, Edaemus streaked skyward, and all of his children streamed upward behind him. When Sparhawk and his friends had first come to Delphaeus, Anari Cedon had told them that the Delphae journeyed toward the light and that they would
become
the light, but that there were yet impediments. Bhelliom had evidently removed those barriers. The Delphae marked the starry sky like a comet as they rose together on the first step of their inconceivable journey.

The pale, clear radiance of the lake was gone, but it was not dark. An azure spark hung over it as Bhelliom surveyed what it had wrought and found that it was good. Then it too rose from the earth to rejoin the eternal stars.

They stayed that night in deserted Delphaeus, and sparhawk awoke early as usual. He dressed himself quietly and left the simple bedroom and his tousled, sleeping wife to go outside to check the weather.

Flute joined him when he reached the city gate. ‘Why don't you put some shoes on?' he asked her, noting that her bare, grass-stained little feet were sunk in the snow.

‘What do I need with shoes, Father?' She held out her arms, and he picked her up.

‘It was quite a night, wasn't it?' he said, looking up at the cloudy sky.

‘Why did you do that, Sparhawk?'

‘Do what?'

‘You know what I mean. Do you realize what you could have done? You could have turned this world into a paradise, but you threw it all away.'

‘I don't think that would have been a good idea, Aphrael. My idea of paradise would probably have been
different from other people's.' He sniffed at the chill air. ‘I think we've got weather coming,' he observed.

‘Don't change the subject. You had ultimate power. Why did you give it up?'

He sighed. ‘I didn't really like it all that much. There wasn't any effort involved in it, and when you get something without working for it, it doesn't really have any value. Besides, there are people who have claims on me.'

‘What's that got to do with it?'

‘What could I have done if Ehlana had decided that she wanted Arcium? Or if Dolmant had decided that he wanted to convert Styricum? Or all of Tamuli? I have loyalties and obligations, Aphrael, and sooner or later, I'd have made bad decisions because of them. Trust me. I made the right choice.'

‘I think you're going to regret it.'

‘I've regretted lots of things. You learn to live with it. Can you get us to Matherion?'

‘You could have done it yourself, you know.'

‘Don't beat it into the ground, Aphrael. If you don't want to, then we'll just plow our way through the snow. We've done it before.'

‘You're hateful, Sparhawk. You
know
I won't let you do that.'

‘Now
do you see what I mean about the power of loyalties and obligations?'

‘Don't start lecturing me. I'm in no mood for it. Go wake up the others, and let's get started.'

‘Whatever you say, Divine One.'

They located the rather large communal kitchen in which the Delphae had prepared all their meals and the storerooms where the food was kept. Despite their eons of enmity, the dietary prejudices of the Styrics and Delphae were remarkable similar. Sephrenia found the breakfast much to her liking, but Kalten grumbled a great deal. He
did
eat three helpings, however.

‘Whatever happened to friend Bhlokw?' Kring asked, pushing back his plate. ‘I just realized that I haven't seen him since Zalasta took fire.'

‘He went off with his Gods, Domi,' Tynian replied. ‘He did what they sent him to do. and now he and the rest of the Trolls are on their way back to Thalesia. He wished us all good hunting. That's about as close as a Troll can come to saying goodbye.'

‘It might sound a little strange,' Kring admitted, ‘but I liked him.'

‘He's a good pack-mate,' Ulath said. ‘He hunts well, and he's willing to share what he kills with the others in the pack.'

‘Oh, yes,' Tynian agreed with a shudder. ‘If it wasn't a freshly-killed dog, it was a haunch of raw Cyrgai.'

‘It was what he had, Tynian,' Ulath defended his shaggy friend, ‘and he was ready to share it. You can't ask more than that, can you?'

‘Sir Ulath,' Talen said, ‘I've just eaten. Do you suppose we could talk about something else?'

They saddled their horses and rode out of Delphaeus.

As he left, Khalad reined in, dismounted, and closed the gate. ‘Why did you do that?' Talen asked him. ‘The Delphae aren't coming back, you know.'

‘It's the proper thing to do,' Khalad said as he remounted. ‘Leaving it open would have been disrespectful.'

Since they all knew who she really was, Flute made no attempt to conceal her tampering this time. The horses plodded along, as horses will if they aren't being pushed, but every few minutes the horizon flickered and changed. Once, somewhat east of Dirgis, Sparhawk rose in his stirrups to look to the rear. Their clearly visible trail stretched back to the middle of an open meadow where it stopped abruptly, almost as if the horses and riders had been dropped there out of the sky.

They reached the now-familiar hilltop overlooking fire-domed Matherion and its harbor just as evening was approaching, and they rode on down to the city gratefully. They had all been long on the road, and it was good to be home again. Sparhawk rather quickly amended that thought in his mind. Matherion was not really home. Home was a dank, unlovely city on the Cimmura River, half a world away.

There were some startled looks at the gate of the imperial compound, and yet more startled looks at the drawbridge to Ehlana's castle. Vanion had stubbornly rejected his wife's urgings to conceal his head and face with the hood of his cloak and quite literally flaunted the fact that some thirty-odd years had somehow fallen away. Vanion was like that sometimes.

There were some visible changes inside the castle as well. They found the Emperor in the blue-draped sitting-room on the second floor, and in addition to Baroness Melidere, Emban and Oscagne, three of his wives, Elysoun, Gahennas, and Liatris were also present. Elysoun was probably the most notable, since she was now modestly dressed.