Sephrenia leaned back in her chair as Xanetia began her account of the events of the past several months. There was a sense of peace, an unruffled calm about Delphaeus that Sephrenia had not perceived during her last visit. At that time, her mind had been so filled with obsessive hatred that she had scarcely taken note of her surroundings. The Delphae had appealed to Sparhawk to seal their valley away from the rest of the world, but that seemed somehow unnecessary. They were already separate – so separate that they no longer seemed even human. In a peculiar way, Sephrenia envied them.
‘Infuriating, aren’t they?’ the Child Goddess murmured. ‘And the word you’re looking for is “serenity”.’
‘And you’re doing everything in your power to disturb that, aren’t you?’
‘They’re still a part of this world, Sephrenia – for a little while longer, anyway. All I’m doing is reminding them that the rest of us are still out here.’
‘You’re behaving very badly toward Edaemus.’
‘I’m trying to jerk him back to reality. He’s been off by himself for the past hundred centuries, and he’s forgotten what it’s like having the rest of us around. I’m reminding him. Actually, it’s good for him. He was starting to get complacent.’ She slipped down from her sister’s lap. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘It’s time for me to give him another lesson.’ She crossed the room and stood directly in front of Edaemus, looking pleadingly into his face with her large, dark eyes.
The God of the Delphae was so engrossed in Xanetia’s account that he scarcely noticed Aphrael and, when she held out her arms to him, he absently picked her up and settled her into his lap.
Sephrenia smiled.
‘And most recently,’ Xanetia concluded her report, ‘young Sir Berit hath been given further instruction. He is to turn aside and go to the town of Sopal on the coast of the Sea of Arjun. He hath advised the Child Goddess of this alteration of direction, and she in turn hath made the rest of us aware of it. It is the intent of the Troll-Gods to transport Sir Ulath and Sir Tynian to Sopal and to conceal them there in what they call “No-Time”. It is their thought that when our enemies produce Queen Ehlana to exchange her for Bhelliom, they might leap from their concealment and rescue her.’
‘No-Time?’ Cedon asked, his face puzzled.
‘Suspended duration,’ Aphrael explained. ‘Trolls are hunters, and their Gods have found a new place of concealment for them so that they’re able to stalk their prey unseen. It’s clever, but it has its drawbacks.’
Edaemus asked her something in that language Sephrenia had tried several times to learn but had never really been able to grasp. Aphrael replied, speaking rapidly in a rather dry, technical tone and making intricate gestures with her hands.
‘Ah,’ he said finally, lapsing back into Tamul and with an expression of comprehension flooding his face. ‘It is a peculiar notion.’
‘You know how the Troll-Gods are.’ She made a little face.
‘Didst thou in truth wring acceptance of thine outrageous demands from them?’
‘I had something they wanted.’ She shrugged. ‘They’ve been trying to think up some way to escape from Bhelliom for three hundred centuries now. They didn’t like my conditions, but they didn’t have much choice.’
Thou art cruel, Aphrael.’
‘Not really. I was driven by necessity, and necessity’s neither cruel nor kindly. It just is. I kissed them a few times when I stopped by a couple of days ago, and that made them feel better – it did once they realized that I wasn’t going to take a bite out of them, anyway.’
‘Thou didst not!’ He seemed aghast.
‘They aren’t so bad,’ she defended her action. ‘I suppose I could have scratched them behind the ears, but that might have insulted them, so I kissed them instead.’ She smiled. ‘A few more kisses and I’d have had them licking my fingers like puppies.’
He straightened, then suddenly blinked as if realizing for the first time where she was sitting.
She gave him another of those mysterious little smiles and patted his cheek. That’s all right, Cousin,’ she told him. ‘You’ll come around eventually. They always do.’ And she slipped down from his lap and walked back across the room to rejoin her sister.
‘That’s my place!’ a burly fellow of indeterminate race asserted threateningly as Kalten dropped his saddlebags and bed-roll on a clear spot under a large tree.
‘It was,’ Kalten grunted.
‘You can’t just walk in here and steal a man’s place like this.’
‘Oh? Is it against the law or something?’ Kalten straightened. He was at least a head taller than the other man, and he bulked large in his mail-shirt. ‘My friends and I are going to be staying right here,’ he stated flatly, ‘so pick up your bed and all this other trash and go someplace else.’
‘I’m not in the habit of taking orders from Elenes!’
That’s too bad. Now move away. I’ve got work to do.’ Kalten was not in a good humor. Alean’s peril gnawed at him constantly, and even slight irritations rubbed his temper raw. Some of that must have showed on his face. The other man backed off a few steps.
‘Further,’ Kalten told him.
‘I’ll be back,’ the man blustered, retreating a few more steps. ‘I’ll be back with all my friends.’
‘I can hardly wait.’ Kalten deliberately turned his back on the man he had just dispossessed.
Caalador and Bevier joined him. ‘Trouble?’ Caalador asked.
‘I wouldn’t call it that,’ Kalten shrugged. ‘I was just establishing some rank, is all. Any time you come into a new situation, you have to push a few people around to make everybody else understand that you’re not going to put up with any foolishness. Let’s get settled in.’
They had erected their tent and were gathering leaves and moss for beds when Narstil stopped by. ‘I see you’re getting set up, Ezek,’ he said to Caalador. His tone was conciliatory, though not quite cordial.
‘A few finishing touches are about all that’s left,’ Caalador replied.
‘You men make a good camp,’ Narstil noted. Tidy.’
‘A cluttered camp is the sign of a cluttered mind,’ Caalador shrugged. ‘I’m glad you stopped by, Narstil. We hear that there’s an army camped out not far from here. Do they cause you any problems?’