The Shining Ones

‘We’ve got plenty of time, then.’ Khalad looked out across moon-washed Matherion standing in pale fog with the moonlight awakening the rainbows of fire in her naked shoulders. ‘Pretty,’ he noted.

‘Is that the best you can do? You look at the most fabulous city in the world and shrug it off as “pretty”.’

‘I’m not an aristocrat, Sparhawk. I don’t have to invent flowery phrases to impress others – or myself. Let’s get you inside before the damp settles into your lungs. You crooked old people have delicate health sometimes.’

Queen Ehlana, pale and blonde and altogether lovely, was irritated more than angry; Sparhawk saw that immediately. He also saw that she had gone to some trouble to make herself as pretty as possible. Her dressing gown was dark blue satin, her cheeks had been carefully pinched to make them glow, and her hair was artfully arranged to give the impression of winsomely distracted dishevelment. She berated him about his lack of consideration in tones that might easily have made the trees cry and the very rocks shrink from her. Her cadences were measured, and her voice rose, then sank, as she told him exactly how she felt. Sparhawk concealed a smile. Ehlana was speaking to him on two levels at the same time as she stood in the center of the blue-draped royal apartment scolding him. Her words expressed extreme displeasure; her careful preparations, however, said something quite different.

He apologized.

She refused to accept his apology and stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

‘Spirited,’ Sephrenia murmured. The small woman sat out of harm’s way on the far side of the room, her white Styric robe glowing in the candlelight.

‘You noticed,’ Sparhawk smiled.

‘Does she do that often?’

‘Oh, yes. She enjoys it. What are you doing up so late, little mother?’

‘Aphrael wanted me to speak with you.’

‘Why didn’t she just come and talk with me herself? It’s not as if she were way over on the other side of town.’

‘It’s a formal sort of occasion, Sparhawk. I’m supposed to speak for her at times like this.’

‘Was that intended to make sense?’

‘It would if you were Styric. We’re going to have to make some substitutions when we go to retrieve Bhelliom. Khalad can fill in for his father without any particular problem, but Tynian’s decision to go back to Chyrellos with Emban really has Aphrael upset. Can you persuade him to change his mind?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t even try, Sephrenia. I’m not going to cripple him for life just because Aphrael might miss him.’

‘Is his arm really that bad?’

‘It’s bad enough. That crossbow bolt went right through his shoulder joint. If he starts moving it around, it won’t set right, and that’s his sword arm.’

‘Aphrael could fix it, you know.’

‘Not without exposing her identity she couldn’t, and I won’t let her do that.’

‘Won’t let?’

‘Ask her if she wants to endanger her mother’s sanity just for the sake of symmetry. Substitute someone else. If Aphrael’s willing to accept Khalad in place of Kurik, she should be able to pick someone else to fill in for Tynian. Why is it so important to her in the first place?’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Why don’t you try to explain it anyway? I might surprise you.’

‘You’re in an odd humor tonight.’

‘I’ve just been scolded. That always makes me odd. Why does Aphrael think it’s so important to always have the same group of people around her?’

‘It has to do with the feeling of it, Sparhawk. The presence of any given person is more than just the way he looks or the sound of his voice. It also involves the way he thinks – and probably more important, the way he feels about Aphrael. She surrounds herself with that. When you bring in different people, you change the way it feels, and that throws her off balance.’ She looked at him. ‘You didn’t understand a word of that, did you?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did. How about Vanion? He loves her as much as Tynian does, and she loves him too. He’s been more or less with us in spirit since all this started anyway, and he is a knight, after all.’

‘Vanion? Don’t be absurd, Sparhawk.’

‘He’s not an invalid, you know. He was running footraces back in Sarsos, and he was still as good as ever with his lance when we fought the Trolls.’

‘It’s out of the question. I won’t even discuss it.’

He crossed the room, took her wrists in his hands and kissed her palms. ‘I love you dearly, little mother,’ he told her, ‘but I’m going to override you this time. You can’t wrap Vanion in lamb’s-wool for the rest of his life just because you’re afraid he might scratch his finger. If you don’t suggest him to Aphrael, I will.’

She swore at him in Styric. ‘Don’t you understand, Sparhawk? I almost lost him.’ Her heart was in her luminous blue eyes. I’ll die if anything happens to him.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to him. Are you going to ask Aphrael about it, or would you rather have me do it?’

She swore at him again.

‘Where did you ever learn that kind of language?’ he asked mildly. ‘if that takes care of our problem, I’m a little overdue at the bedroom door.’

‘I didn’t quite follow that.’

‘It’s time for the kissing and making up. There’s supposed to be a certain rhythm to these things, and if I wait too long to soften Ehlana’s displeasure, she’ll begin to think I don’t love her any more.’

‘Do you mean her performance here tonight was nothing more than an invitation to the bedroom?’

‘That might be putting it a little bluntly, but there was some of that involved, yes. Sometimes I get busy and forget to pay as much attention to her as I should. She’ll only let that go on for just so long before she makes a speech. The speech reminds me that I’ve been neglecting her. We kiss and make up, and everything’s all right again.’

‘Wouldn’t it be simpler if she just came right out and told you in the first place without these elaborate games?’

‘Probably, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun for her. You’ll excuse me?’

‘Why do you always avoid me, Berit-Knight?’ Empress Elysoun asked with a disconsolate little pout.

‘Your Highness misunderstands me,’ Berit replied, flushing slightly and keeping his eyes averted.

‘Am I ugly, Berit-Knight?’

‘Of course not, your Highness.’

‘Then why don’t you ever look at me?’

‘It’s not considered polite among Elenes for a man to look at an undressed woman, your Highness.’

‘I’m not an Elene, Sir Knight. I’m a Valesian, and I’m not naked. I have plenty of clothes on. If you’ll come to my chambers, I’ll show you the difference.’

Sparhawk had been looking for Sir Berit to advise him of their upcoming journey, and he had just rounded a corner in the hallway leading to the chapel to find his young friend trapped once more by the Empress Elysoun. Since Emperor Sarabian’s entire family was inside the castle as a security measure, Berit’s escape routes had been seriously curtailed, and Elysoun had been taking advantage of the situation outrageously. The Emperor’s Valesian wife was a brown-skinned, sunny girl whose native costume left her unashamedly bare-breasted. No matter how many times Sarabian had explained to Berit that customary moral strictures did not apply to Valesians, the young Knight remained steadfastly respectful – and chaste. Elysoun had taken that as a challenge, and she had been pursuing the poor young man relentlessly. Sparhawk was just on the verge of speaking to his friend, but he smiled instead and stepped back round the corner to listen. He was the interim Preceptor of the Pandion Order, after all, and it was his duty to look after the souls of his men.

‘Do you always have to be an Elene?’ Elysoun was asking the knight.

‘I am an Elene, your Highness.’

‘But you Elenes are so boring,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you be a Valesian for just one afternoon? It’s much more fun, and it won’t take very long, you know – unless you want it to.’ She paused. ‘Are you really a virgin?’ she asked curiously.

Berit turned bright red.

Elysoun laughed delightedly. ‘What an absurd idea!’ she exclaimed. ‘Aren’t you even a little curious about what you’ve been missing? I’ll be happy to take that tiresome virginity off your hands, Berit-Knight – and it won’t even hurt very much.’

Sparhawk took pity on the poor fellow and intervened at that point. ‘Ah, there you are, Berit,’ he said, stepping round the corner and speaking in Tamul for the Empress’s benefit. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. Something’s come up that needs our attention.’ He bowed to the Empress. ‘Your Imperial Highness,’ he murmured, ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to commandeer your friend here for a while. Matters of state, you know.’

The look Elysoun gave him had daggers in it.

‘I was sure your Highness would understand,’ he said, bowing again. ‘Come along, Berit. The matter’s serious, and we’re late.’ He led his friend off down the opalescent corridor as Empress Elysoun glared after them.

‘Thanks, Sparhawk,’ Berit said with relief.

‘Why don’t you just stay away from her?’

‘I can’t. She follows me everywhere. She even trapped me in the bath-house once – in the middle of the night. She said she wanted to bathe with me.’

‘Berit,’ Sparhawk smiled, ‘as your preceptor and spiritual guide, I’m supposed to applaud your devotion to the ideals of our order. As your friend, though, I have to tell you that running away from her only makes matters worse. We have to stay here in Matherion, and if we stay long enough, she will get you. She’s very single-minded about it.’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed that.’

‘She’s really quite pretty, you know,’ Sparhawk suggested tentatively. ‘What’s your difficulty with the notion of being friendly?’

‘Sparhawk!’

The big Pandion sighed. ‘I was afraid you might look at it that way. Look, Berit, Elysoun comes from a different culture with different customs. She doesn’t see this sort of thing as sin. Sarabian’s made it quite clear that he wants some of us to accommodate her, and she’s chosen you as the lucky man. It’s a political necessity, so you’re just going to have to set these delicate feelings aside. Look upon it as your knightly duty, if it makes you feel any better. I can even have Emban grant you an indulgence if you think it’s necessary.’

Berit gasped.

‘You’re starting to embarrass us,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Elysoun’s been making Sarabian’s life miserable about the whole thing. He won’t step in and order you to do as she asks, no matter how much she nags him, but he quite obviously expects me to speak with you about it.’

‘I can’t believe you’re saying this, Sparhawk.’

‘Just go ahead and do it, Berit. Everybody expects you to. You don’t have to enjoy it if you don’t want to, but do it. Do it as often as you have to, but make her stop screaming at the Emperor. It’s your duty, my friend, and after you and Elysoun have romped around the bedroom a few times, she’ll start looking for new playmates.’

‘But what if she doesn’t?’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much. Patriarch Emban’s got a whole saddle-bag full of indulgences if it should turn out that you really need them.’

The failed uprising had given Emperor Sarabian the perfect excuse to escape from his government. Feigning cowardice, he had flatly declared that he felt safe only within the walls of Ehlana’s castle, and then only if the moat remained full and the drawbridge raised. His ministers, long accustomed to arranging his every move, found that terribly inconvenient.

Sarabian had not been motivated entirely by a desire to breathe the air of relative freedom, however. Interior Minister Kolata had been revealed as a traitor during the coup-attempt, but Sarabian and his Elene friends had decided that the time was not yet right to publicly reveal his treachery. So long as the Emperor remained inside Ehlana’s castle, Kolata’s presence there as well was fully explained. He was in charge of the police, after all, and the protection of the Emperor was his paramount duty. The Interior Minister, closely supervised by Ehlana’s cohorts, directed the police forces of the Empire from inside the walls. His meetings with his underlings were always just a trifle strained, since Stragen customarily sat beside him with one hand idly resting on the hilt of a dagger.

It was early one morning when Ambassador Norkan, the Tamul emissary to the court of King Androl and Queen Betuana of Atan, was escorted into the gleaming imitation throne-room in the castle. Norkan wore his usual golden mantle and a puzzled expression. Though he tried to conceal the fact, he quite obviously disapproved of the fact that his Emperor was dressed in western-style doublet and hose of a rich plum color. ‘Have you gone and stolen my Emperor too, Queen Ehlana?’ he asked with a perfunctory bow. Norkan was a brilliant man, but he had an unfortunate tendency to speak his mind quite openly.

‘What a thing to say, your Excellency,’ Ehlana protested mildly in nearly perfect Tamul. Ehlana was technically the hostess here, so she sat on her throne wearing her formal crimson robe and a golden crown.

She turned to her imperial ‘guest’ who sprawled in a nearby chair slowly twitching a string across the opalescent floor for the entertainment of Princess Danae’s cat. ‘Have I stolen you, Sarabian?’ she asked him.

‘Oh, absolutely, Ehlana,’ he replied, speaking in Elenic. ‘I’m utterly in thrall to you.’

‘Has someone opened a school for modern languages here on the grounds while I’ve been gone, Oscagne?’ Norkan asked.

‘I suppose you might say that,’ the Foreign Minister replied. ‘His Majesty’s proficiency in Elenic predates Queen Ehlana’s visit, however. Our revered Emperor’s been keeping secrets from us.’

‘Is he allowed to do that? I thought he was supposed to be just a stuffed toy that we trotted out on ceremonial occasions.’

Even Oscagne choked a bit on that, but Sarabian burst into laughter. ‘I’ve missed you, Norkan,’ he declared. ‘Have you had the chance to get to know our excellent Norkan, Ehlana?’

‘I sampled his wit in Atana, Sarabian,’ the queen smiled. ‘His observations always seem so – ah – unexpected.’

‘That they are,’ Sarabian laughed, rising to his feet. He swore briefly as the rapier at his side briefly caught behind the leg of his chair. The Emperor had a great deal of difficulty with his rapier. ‘Norkan once made one of those unexpected observations about the size of my sister’s feet, and I had to send him off to Atan to keep her from having him murdered.’ He cocked one eyebrow at the ambassador. ‘I really should make you marry her, Norkan. Then you could insult her in private. Public insults require public responses, you know.’

‘I’m honored more than I can say, your Imperial Majesty,’ Norkan replied. ‘The prospect of becoming your brother-in-law is quite likely to stop my heart entirely.’

‘You don’t like my sister,’ Sarabian accused.

‘I didn’t say that, your Majesty, but I prefer to worship her from afar – at least out of the range of her feet. That’s what precipitated my unfortunate remark in the first place. I was gouty that day, and she stepped on my toe. She’d be a nice enough girl, I suppose, if she’d only watch where she’s putting those cattle barges she wears for shoes.’

‘It wouldn’t be one of those marriages made in heaven, Sarabian,’ Ehlana smiled. ‘I’ve met your sister, and I’m afraid his Excellency’s wit would be lost on her.’

‘You might be right, my dear,’ Sarabian agreed. ‘I’d really like to get rid of her, though. She’s irritated me since the day she was born. What are you doing back here in Matherion, Norkan?’

One of Ambassador Norkan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Things have changed, haven’t they, Oscagne? Are we supposed to tell him to his face what’s really going on?’

‘Emperor Sarabian’s decided to take charge of his own government, my friend,’ Oscagne sighed mournfully.

‘Isn’t that against the law?’

‘Afraid not, old boy.’

‘Would you consider accepting my resignation?’

‘No, not really.’

‘Don’t you want to work for me any more, Norkan?’ Sarabian asked.

‘I have nothing against you personally, your Majesty, but if you decide to actually meddle in government, the whole Empire could collapse.’

‘Marvelous, Norkan. I love the way you start talking before you’ve saddled up your brains. You see, Ehlana? That’s what I was telling you about. The officials in my government all expect me to smile regally, approve their recommendations without question, and leave the business of running things to them.’

‘How boring.’

‘Indeed it is, my dear, but I’m going to change it. Now that I’ve seen a real ruler in action, whole new horizons have been opened to me. You still haven’t answered my question, Norkan. What brings you back to Matherion?’

‘The Atans are growing restive, your Majesty.’

‘Are the recent disturbances starting to erode their loyalty?’

‘No, your Majesty, quite the reverse. The uprising has them all excited. Androl wants to move out in force to occupy Matherion in order to guarantee your safety. I don’t think we want that. The Atans don’t pay too much attention to rank or position when they decide to kill people.’

‘We noticed that,’ Sarabian replied dryly. ‘I’ve received all sorts of petitions of protest from the noble houses of Tamul proper as a result of the measures Engessa took to put down the coup.’

‘I’ve spoken with Betuana, your Majesty,’ Norkan continued. ‘She’s promised to shorten her husband’s leash until I get some instructions from you. Something short and to the point like, “Sit! Stay!” might be appropriate, considering Androl’s mental capabilities.’

‘How did you ever get to be a diplomat, Norkan?’

‘I lied a lot.’

‘A suggestion, Emperor Sarabian?’ Tynian offered.

‘Go ahead, Sir Tynian.’

‘We don’t really want to ruffle King Androl’s feathers, so a suggestion to him that he’s being held in place to meet a far greater threat might be preferable to just sending him to bed without any supper.’

Sarabian laughed. ‘What a novel way to put it, Sir Tynian. All right, Norkan, send Engessa.’

Norkan blinked.

‘Pay attention, man,’ Sarabian snapped.

‘That’s something you’ll have to get used to, Norkan,’ Oscagne advised. ‘The Emperor sometimes takes verbal shortcuts.’

‘Oh. I see.’ Norkan thought about it. ‘Might I ask why Atan Engessa would be better qualified to carry out your instructions than I would, your Majesty?’

‘Because Engessa can run faster than you can, and he’ll be able to put our commands to Androl in language far more acceptable to him. There’s also the fact that using Engessa hints at a military reason for the decision, and that should smooth Androl’s feathers all the more. You can explain our real reasons to Betuana when you get back.’

‘You know something, Oscagne?’ Norkan said. ‘He might just work out all right after all – if we can keep him from making too many blunders right at the outset.’

Oscagne winced.

Sparhawk touched Vanion’s shoulder and motioned with his head. The two of them drifted back to the rear of the throne-room. ‘I’ve got a problem, Vanion,’ Sparhawk muttered.

‘Oh?’

‘I’ve racked my brains to come up with an excuse for us to get out of Matherion for long enough to retrieve the Bhelliom, but I haven’t had a single idea that a child wouldn’t be able to see through. Ehlana’s not stupid, you know.’

‘No, that she isn’t.’

‘Aphrael won’t say anything definite, but I get the strong feeling that she wants us to sail on the same ship with Emban and Tynian, and I’m starting to run out of excuses to keep delaying their departure. Any ideas?’

‘Ask Oscagne to help you,’ Vanion shrugged. ‘He’s a diplomat, so lying comes second nature to him.’

‘Nice idea, but I can’t really tell him where we’re going and what we’re going to do when we get there, can I?’

‘Don’t tell him, then. Just tell him that you need a reason to be out of town for a while. Put on a gravely mysterious face and let it go at that. Oscagne’s been around for long enough to recognize the symptoms of official reticence when he sees them.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Probably because your oath keeps getting in your way. I know that you’ve sworn to tell the truth, but that doesn’t mean that you have to tell the whole truth. You can leave things out, you know. Leaving things out is one of the perquisites of the office of Preceptor.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘Back to school, I see. I think I’m doomed to spend my whole life getting instructions from you – and being made to feel inadequate in the process.’

‘That’s what friends are for, Sparhawk.’

‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’ Sparhawk tried very hard to keep it from sounding like an accusation.

‘Not yet, no,’ Princess Danae replied, carefully tying a doll’s bonnet on her cat’s head. Mmrr did not appear to care for the idea, but she endured her mistress’s little game with a look of resignation.

‘Why not?’ Sparhawk asked his daughter, flopping down into one of the blue armchairs in the royal apartment.

‘Because something might still come up to make it unnecessary. You’re not going to find Bhelliom until I decide to let you find it, father.’

‘You want us to sail with Tynian and Emban, though?’

‘Yes.’

‘How far?’

‘It doesn’t really matter. I just need Tynian with us when we first set out, that’s all.’

‘Then you don’t really have any set destination in mind – with that ship, I mean?’

‘Of course not. I just need Tynian to be along for a couple of days. We can go out to sea for a couple of leagues and then sail around in circles for two days if you want. It’s all the same to me.’

‘Thanks,’ he said acidly.

‘No charge. There.’ She held up the cat. ‘Isn’t she darling in her new bonnet?’

‘Adorable.’

Mmrr gave Sparhawk a flat look of pure hatred.

‘I can’t tell you why at the moment, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk said to Oscagne later that same day when they were alone in one of the hallways. ‘All I can say is that I need a reason to be away from Matherion with a group of nine or ten of my friends for an indeterminate period of time – several weeks or so. It has to be significant enough to convince my wife that it’s necessary, but not so serious as to worry her, and I have to sail on the same ship with Emban and Tynian.’

‘All right,’ Oscagne agreed. ‘How good an actor are you, Prince Sparhawk?’

‘I don’t think anybody’d pay money to watch me perform.’

Oscagne let that pass. ‘I gather that this ploy is primarily intended for your wife’s benefit?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it might be best if the idea of sending you off someplace came from her. I’ll maneuver her into ordering you off on some inconsequential errand, and you can take it from there.’

‘I’d really like to see you try to maneuver Ehlana.’

‘Trust me, old boy. Trust me.’

‘Tega?’ Sarabian asked his foreign minister incredulously. ‘The only superstition they have on the Isle of Tega is the one that says that it’s bad luck not to raise the price of sea-shells every year.’

‘They’ve never mentioned it to us in the past because they were probably afraid we’d think they were being silly, your Majesty,’ Oscagne replied urbanely. Oscagne looked decidedly uncomfortable in the blue doublet and hose Sarabian had ordered him to wear. He couldn’t seem to think of anything to do with his hands, and he appeared to be very self-conscious about his bony legs. ‘The word “silly” seems to strike at the very core of the Tegan soul. They’re the stuffiest people in the world.’

‘I know. Gahenas, my Tegan wife, can put me to sleep almost immediately – even when we’re …’ The Emperor threw a quick look at Ehlana and left it hanging.

‘Tegans have raised being boring to an art form, your Majesty,’ Oscagne agreed. ‘Anyway, there’s an old Tegan myth to the effect that the oyster-beds are haunted by a mermaid. Supposedly she eats oysters, shells and all, and that really upsets the Tegans. She also seduces Tegan divers, who tend to drown during the exchange of pleasantries.’