The Shining Ones (17 page)

‘Are you really sure you want Caalador in your government, Sarabian?’ Ehlana asked him. ‘That dialect of his seems to rub off on people. Give him a year or
two, and everybody in the imperial compound will be calling you “dorlin”’.’

‘That might be preferable to some of the
other
names I’ve been called lately.’

Sparhawk and his friends left Cyron early the next morning and rode eastward through vast golden fields of ripening wheat. The rolling countryside sloped gradually downward into the broad valley where the Pela and Edek rivers joined on the border between Edom and Cynesga.

Sparhawk rode in the lead with Flute nestled in his arms. The little girl seemed unusually quiet this morning, and after they had been on the road for a couple of hours, Sparhawk leaned to one side and looked at her face. Her eyes were fixed, vacant, and her face expressionless. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘Not now, Sparhawk,’ she told him crossly. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Aphrael, we’re coming up on the border. Shouldn’t we…?’

‘Leave me alone.’ She burrowed her forehead into his chest with a discontented little sound.

‘What is it, Sparhawk?’ Sephrenia asked, pulling Ch’iel in beside Faran.

‘Aphrael won’t talk to me.’

Sephrenia leaned forward and looked critically at Flute’s face. ‘Ah,’ she said.

‘Ah what?’

‘Leave her alone, Sparhawk. She’s someplace else right now.’

‘The border’s just ahead, Sephrenia. Can we really afford to spend half a day trying to talk our way across?’

‘It looks as if we’ll have to. Here, give her to me.’

He lifted the semi-comatose little girl and placed her in her sister’s arms. ‘Maybe I can move us past the border without her. I know how it’s done now.’

‘No, Sparhawk. You’re not ready to try it by yourself. We definitely don’t want you to start experimenting on your own just yet. We’ll have to take our chances at the border. There’s no way of knowing how long Aphrael’s going to be busy.’

‘It’s not anything important, is it? I mean, is Ehlana in any kind of danger?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to disturb Aphrael just now to find out. Danae will take care of her mother. You’re just going to have to trust her.’

‘This is
very
difficult, you know. How long does it take to adjust your thinking to the idea that there are three of her – and that they’re all the same one?’

She gave him a puzzled look.

‘Aphrael, Flute and Danae – they’re all the same person, but they can be in two places at once, or even three, for all I know, and doing two or three different things.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed.

‘Doesn’t that disturb you just a little?’

‘Does it concern you that your Elene God’s supposed to know what everybody in the world’s thinking? – all at the same time?’

‘Well – no. I suppose not.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘He’s God, Sephrenia.’

‘So’s she, Sparhawk.’

‘It doesn’t seem quite the same.’

‘It is, though. Tell the others that we’re going to have to make the border crossing on our own.’

‘They’ll want to know why.’

‘Lie to them. God will forgive you – one of them will, anyway.’

‘You’re impossible to talk to when you’re like this, do you know that?’

‘Don’t talk to me, then. Right now I’d prefer that you didn’t anyway.’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I was just a little upset when you dissolved that cloud and it started swearing at you in Styric.’

‘I noticed that myself.’ He made a face. ‘How could anyone have missed it? I gather it’s significant.’

‘What language do
you
swear in when you stub your toe?’

‘Elenic, of course.’

‘Of course. It’s your native tongue. Doesn’t that sort of suggest that Styric’s the native tongue of whoever’s behind that shadow?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it does.’

‘The fact disturbs me, Sparhawk – more than just a little bit. It suggests all sorts of things that I don’t really want to accept.’

‘Such as?’

‘There’s a Styric working with our enemy, for one thing, and he’s highly skilled. That shadow’s the result of a very complex spell. I doubt that there are more than eight or ten in all of Styricum who could have managed it, and I
know
all of those people. They’re my friends. It’s not a pleasant thing to contemplate. Why don’t you go bother somebody else and let me work on it?’

Sparhawk gave up and dropped back to talk with the others. ‘There’s been a little change of plans,’ he told them. ‘Aphrael’s occupied elsewhere just now, so we won’t be able to avoid the bordercrossing.’

‘What’s she doing?’ Bevier asked.

‘You don’t want to know. Believe me, Bevier,
you,
of all people,
really
don’t want to know.’

‘She’s doing one of those God-things?’ Talen guessed.

‘Talen,’ Bevier rebuked him. ‘They’re called miracles, not God-things.’

‘
That
was the word I was looking for,’ Talen replied, snapping his fingers.

Vanion was frowning. ‘Border-crossings are always tedious,’ he told them, ‘but the Cynesgans have a reputation for carrying that to extremes. They’ll negotiate the suitable bribe for days on end.’

‘That’s what axes are for, Lord Vanion,’ Ulath rumbled. ‘We use them to clear away inconveniences – underbrush, trees, obstructionist officials, that sort of thing.’

‘We don’t need an international incident, Sir Ulath,’ Vanion told him. ‘We
might
be able to speed things up a bit, though. I’ve got an imperial pass signed by Sarabian himself. It might carry enough weight to get us past the border without too much delay.’

The border between Edom and Cynesga was marked by the Pela River, and at the far end of the substantial bridge there stood a solid, block-like building with a horse corral behind it.

Vanion led them across the bridge to the barricade on the Cynesgan side, where a number of armed men in strange flowing robes waited.

The imperial pass Vanion presented to the border guards not only failed to gain them immediate passage, but even added further complications. ‘How do I know that this is really his Majesty’s signature?’ the Cynesgan captain demanded suspiciously in heavily accented Tamul. He was a swarthy man in a loose-fitting black and white striped robe and with a long cloth wound intricately around his head.

‘What’s much more to the point, neighbor, is how do you know that it
isn’t?’
Sparhawk asked bluntly in the Tamul tongue. ‘The Atans take a very unpleasant stance
toward people who disobey the Emperor’s direct commands.’

‘It means death to forge the Emperor’s signature,’ the captain said ominously.

‘So I’ve been told,’ Vanion replied. ‘It
also
means death to ignore his orders. I’d say that
one
of us is in trouble.’

‘My men still have to search your packs for contraband,’ the captain said haughtily. ‘I will consider this while they carry out their orders.’

‘Do that,’ Sparhawk told him in a flat, unfriendly tone of voice, ‘and keep in mind the fact that a wrong decision here could have a negative impact on your career.’

‘I didn’t catch your meaning.’

‘A man with no head seldom gets promoted.’

‘I have nothing to fear,’ the captain declared. ‘I am strictly following the orders of my government.’

‘And the Atans who’ll chop off your head will be strictly following the orders of
theirs.
I’m certain that everyone involved will take enormous comfort in the fact that all the legal niceties were observed.’ Sparhawk turned his back on the officious captain, and he and Vanion walked back to rejoin the others.

‘Well?’ Sephrenia asked them.

‘The Emperor’s voice doesn’t seem to be very loud here in Cynesga,’ Vanion replied. ‘Our friend in the bathrobe has a whole book-full of regulations, and he’s going to use every single one of them to delay us.’

‘Did you try to bribe him?’ Ulath asked.

‘I hinted at the fact that I might entertain a suggestion along those lines.’ Vanion shrugged. ‘He didn’t take the hint, though.’

‘Now
that’s
unusual,’ Kalten noted. ‘Bribes are always the first thing on the mind of any official anywhere in
the world. That sort of suggests that he’s trying to hold us here until reinforcements arrive, doesn’t it?’

‘And they’re probably already on their way,’ Ulath added. ‘Why don’t we take steps?’

‘You’re just guessing, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia chided them. ‘You’re all just itching for the chance to do Elenish things to those border guards.’

‘Did you want to do Elenish things to people, Ulath?’ Kalten asked mildly.

‘I was suggesting constructive Elenishism before we even got here.’

‘We’re not contemplating it out of sheer blood-lust, little mother,’ Vanion told the woman he loved.

‘Oh,
really?
’

‘The situation’s manageable now, but if a thousand mounted Cynesgans suddenly ride in from the nearest garrison, it’s going to get out of hand.’

‘But…’

He held up one hand. ‘
My
decision, Sephrenia – well, Sparhawk’s, actually, since he’s the Preceptor now.’

‘Interim Preceptor,’ Sparhawk corrected.

Vanion did not like to be corrected. ‘Did
you
want to do this?’ he asked.

‘No. You’re doing just fine, Vanion.’

‘Do you want to be quiet, then? It’s a military decision, Sephrenia, so we’ll have to ask you – respectfully, of course – to keep your pretty little nose out of it.’

She said a very harsh word in Styric.

‘I love you too,’ he told her blandly. ‘All right, gentlemen, let’s sort of drift on over to our horses. We’ll do some of those Elenish things Ulath mentioned to the men who are going through our saddle-bags. Then we’ll run off all those horses in that corral and be on our way.’

There were a score of border guards under the captain’s command. Their primary weapon seemed to be
the spear, although they wore a sort of rudimentary armor and scimitars at their waists.

‘Excuse me a moment, friend,’ Ulath said pleasantly to the fellow who was rifling his saddle-bags. ‘I’m going to need my tools for a couple of minutes.’ He reached for the war-axe slung from his saddle.

‘What for?’ the Cynesgan demanded suspiciously in broken Tamul.

‘There’s something in my way,’ Ulath smiled. ‘I want to remove it.’ He lifted his axe out of its sling, tested the edge with his thumb, and then brained the border guard with a single stroke.

The fight around the horses was brief and the outcome was fairly predictable. As a group, border guards are not among the world’s most highly skilled warriors.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Sparhawk bellowed at Talen as the boy pulled his rapier out of the body of one of the Cynesgans.

‘Stragen’s been giving me lessons,’ Talen replied. ‘I just wanted to find out if he knew what he was talking about. Watch your back.’

Sparhawk spun, knocked aside the spear of a charging border guard, and cut the man down. He turned back just as Talen deftly parried the thrust of another, deflecting the curved blade off to one side. Then the young man lunged smoothly and ran the surprised fellow through. ‘Neat, wouldn’t you say?’ he smirked proudly.

‘Quit showing off – and don’t take so long to recover from your thrust. You’re exposing yourself with all that posing.’

‘Yes, revered teacher.’

What little question there had been about the outcome of the skirmish vanished once the knights were in their saddles. Things ended abruptly when the obnoxious captain, who had been shrieking, ‘You’re all under
arrest!’ broke off suddenly as Sir Bevier coolly swung his lochaber axe and sent his head flying.

‘Throw down your weapons!’ Ulath roared at the few survivors. ‘Surrender or die!’

Two of the guards, however, had reached their horses. They scrambled up into their saddles and rode off to the east at a gallop. One stiffened and toppled from his saddle after about fifty yards, with Berit’s arrow protruding from between his shoulder-blades. The other rode on some distance, flogging desperately at his mount. Then he too lurched and fell to the musical twang of Khalad’s crossbow.

‘Good shot,’ Berit noted.

‘Fair,’ Khalad agreed modestly.

The rest of the Cynesgans were throwing their weapons away.

‘You run a good fight, Sparhawk,’ Vanion complimented his friend.

‘I had a good teacher. Kalten, tie them all up and then run off their horses.’

‘Why me?’

‘You’re handy, and there’s that other matter as well.’

‘I didn’t break my oath,’ Kalten protested.

‘No, but you were thinking about it.’

‘What’s this?’ Vanion asked.

‘There’s a lady involved, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied loftily, ‘and no gentleman ever discusses things like that.’

‘What are you doing?’ Aphrael asked sharply. She had raised her head from Sephrenia’s shoulder and was looking suspiciously at Sparhawk.

‘Are you with us again?’ he asked her.

‘Obviously. What are you doing?’

‘There was some unpleasantness at the border, and we’re probably being followed – chased, actually.’

‘I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I, father?’

‘It was more or less unavoidable. Have you finished with whatever it was you were doing?’

‘For the time being.’

‘The town of Edek is just ahead, and we’ve probably got a brigade of Cynesgan soldiers right behind us. Do you suppose you could move us on ahead a ways?’

‘Why didn’t you do it yourself? You know how it’s done.’

‘Sephrenia wouldn’t let me.’

‘His attention wanders at critical moments,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘I didn’t want him to put us down on the moon.’

‘I see your point,’ the little girl agreed. ‘Why don’t we just move straight on to Cynestra, Sparhawk? There’s nothing between here and there but open desert, you know.’

‘They were expecting us at the border,’ he replied. ‘It seems that our friend out there has alerted everybody along the way that we’re coming. There’s certain to be a large garrison of troops at Cynestra, and I’d like to feel my way through the situation there before I blunder into something.’

‘I guess that makes sense – sort of.’

‘How’s your mother?’

‘She’s enjoying herself enormously. The political situation in Matherion’s very murky right now, and you know how much mother loves politics.’

‘I’m glad she’s happy. You’ll have to tell us about it, but let’s get past Edek and outrun that Cynesgan brigade first. I don’t like having people snapping at my heels.’