Domes of Fire Part 21

'You need some Church Knights, your Grace,' Sparhawk said in a bleak tone of voice. 'We're very good in the field of justice. If you take a n.o.bleman's knout away from him and apply it to his own back a few times, he tends to see the light very quickly.'

'I wish that were possible here in Astel, Sir Sparhawk,' Morsel replied sadly. 'Unfortunately-' It was the same chill, and that same annoying flicker at the edge of the eye. Morsel broke off and looked around quickly, trying to see what could not really be seen. 'What-?' he started.

'It's a visitation, your Grace,' Emban told him, his voice tense. 'Don't dislocate your neck trying to catch a glimpse of it.' He raised his voice slightly. 'Awfully good to see you again, old boy,' he said.'We were beginning to think you'd forgotten about us. Was there something you wanted in particular? Or were you just yearning for our company? We're flattered, of course, but we're a little busy at the moment. Why don't you run along and play now? We can chat some other time.'

The chill quite suddenly turned hot, and the flicker darkened. 'Are you insane, Emban?' Sparhawk choked.

'I don't think so,' the fat little Patriarch said. 'Your flickering friend-or friends-are irritating me, that's all.' The shadow vanished, and the air around them returned to normal.

'What was that all about?' Morsel demanded.

'The Patriarch of Ucera just insulted a G.o.d-several G.o.ds, probably,' Sparhawk replied through clenched teeth. 'For a moment there, we all hovered on the brink of obliteration. Please don't do that again, Emban-at least not without consulting me first.' He suddenly laughed a bit sheepishly. 'Now I know exactly how Sephrenia felt on any number of occasions. I'll have to apologise to her the next time I see her.'

Emban was grinning with delight. 'I sort of caught them off balance there, didn't I?'

'Don't do it again, your Grace,' Sparhawk pleaded. 'I've seen what G.o.ds can do to people, and I don't want to be around if you really insult them.'

'Our G.o.d protects me.'

'Annias was praying to our G.o.d when Azash wrung him out like a wet rag, your Grace. It didn't do him all that much good, as I recall.'

'That was really stupid, you know,' Emban said then.

'I'm glad you realise that.'

'Not me, Sparhawk. I'm talking about our adversary. Why did it reveal itself at this particular moment? It should have kept its flamboyant demonstration to itself and just listened. It could have found out what our plans are. Not only that, it revealed itself to Morsel. Until it appeared, he only had our word for the fact of its existence. Now he's seen it for himself.'

'Will someone please explain this?' Morsel burst out.

'It was the Troll-G.o.ds, your Grace,' Sparhawk told him.

'That's absurd. There's no such thing as a Troll, so how can they have G.o.ds?'

'This may take longer than I'd thought,' Sparhawk muttered half to himself. 'As a matter of fact, your Grace, there are Trolls.'

'Have you ever seen one?' Morsel challenged.

'Only one, your Grace. His name was Ghwerig. He was dwarfed, so he was only about seven feet tall. He was still very difficult to kill.'

'You killed him?' Morsel gasped.

'He had something I wanted,' Sparhawk shrugged. 'Ulath's seen a lot more of them than I have, your Grace. He can tell you all about them. He even speaks their language. I did for a while myself, but I've probably forgotten by now. Anyway, they have a language, which means that they're semi-human, and that means that they have G.o.ds, doesn't it?'

Morsel looked helplessly at Emban. 'Don't ask me, my friend,' the fat Patriarch said. 'That's a long way out of my theological depth.'

'For the time being, you'll have to take my word for it,' Sparhawk told them. 'There are Trolls, and they do have G.o.ds-five of them-and they aren't very nice. That shadow Patriarch Emban just so casually dismissed was them-or something very much like them-and that's what we're up against. That's what's trying to bring down the empire and the Church-both our churches, probably. I'm sorry I have to put it to you so abruptly, Archimandrite Morsel, but you have to know what you're dealing with. Otherwise, you'll be totally defenceless. You don't have to believe what I just told you, but you'd better behave as if you did, because if you don't, your Church doesn't have a chance of surviving.'

The Atans arrived a few days later. A hush fell over the city of Darsas as the citizens scurried for cover. No man is so entirely guiltless in his own soul that the sudden appearance of a few thousand police does not give him a qualm or two. The Atans were superbly conditioned giants. The two thousand warriors of both s.e.xes ran in perfect unison as they entered the city four abreast. They wore short leather kirtles, burnished steel breastplates and black half-boots. Their bare limbs gleamed golden in the morning sun as they ran, and their faces were stern and unbending.

Though they were obviously soldiers, there was no uniformity in their weapons. They carried a random collection of swords, short spears and axes, as well as other implements for which Sparhawk had no names. They all had several sheathed daggers strapped tightly to their arms and legs. They wore no helmets, but had slender gold circlets about their heads instead.

'Lord,' Kalten breathed to Sparhawk as the two of them stood on the palace battlements to watch the arrival of their escort, 'I'd really hate to come up against that lot on a battlefield. Just looking at them makes my blood run cold.'

'I believe that's the idea, Kalten,' Sparhawk said. 'Mirtai's impressive all by herself, but when you see a couple of thousand of them like this, you begin to understand how the Tamuls were able to conquer a continent without any particular difficulty. I'd imagine that whole armies simply capitulated when they saw them coming.'

The Atans entered the square in front of the palace and formed up before the residence of the Tamul Amba.s.sador. A huge man went to Amba.s.sador Fontan's door, his pace quite clearly indicating that if the door were not opened for him, he would walk right through it.

'Why don't we go down?' Sparhawk suggested. 'I expect that Fontan will be bringing that fellow to call in a few moments. Watch what you say, Kalten. Those people strike me as a singularly humourless group. I'm sure they'd miss the point of almost any joke.'

'Really,' Kalten breathed his agreement.

The party accompanying the Queen of Elenia gathered in her Majesty's private quarters and stood about rather nervously awaiting the arrival of the Tamul Amba.s.sador and his general. Sparhawk watched Mirtai rather closely to see what her reaction might be upon being re-united with her people after so many years. She wore clothing he had not seen her wear before, clothing which closely resembled that worn by her countrymen. In place of the steel breastplate, however, she wore a tight-fitting, sleeveless black leather jerkin, and the band about her brow was of silver rather than gold. Her face was serene, seeming to show neither antic.i.p.ation nor nervous apprehension. She merely waited.

Then Fontan and Oscagne arrived with the tallest man Sparhawk had ever seen. They introduced him as Atan Engessa. The word 'Atan' appeared to be not only the name of the people, but some kind of t.i.tle as well. Engessa was well over seven feet tall, and the room seemed to shrink as he entered. His age, probably because of his race, was indeterminate. He was lean and muscular, and his expression sternly unyielding. His face showed no evidence that he had ever smiled.

Immediately upon his entrance into the room, he went directly to Mirtai, as if none of the rest of them were even in the room. He touched the fingertips of both hands to his steel-armoured chest and inclined his head to her. 'Atana Mirtai,' he greeted her respectfully.

'Atan Engessa,' she replied, duplicating his gesture of greeting. Then they spoke to each other at some length in the Tamul tongue.

'What are they saying?' Ehlana asked Oscagne, who walked to where they all stood.

'It's a ritual of greeting, your Majesty,' Oscagne replied. 'There are a great many formalities involved when Atans meet. The rituals help to hold down the bloodshed, I believe. At the moment, Engessa's questioning Mirtai concerning her status as a child-the silver headband, you understand. It's an indication that she hasn't yet gone through the Rite of Pa.s.sage.' He paused and listened for a moment as Mirtai spoke. 'She's explaining that she's been separated from humans since childhood and hasn't had the opportunity to partic.i.p.ate in the ritual as yet.'

'Separated from humans?' Ehlana objected. 'What does she think we are?'

'Atans believe that they are the only humans in the world. I'm not sure exactly what they consider us to be.' The amba.s.sador blinked. 'Has she really killed that many people?' he asked with some surprise.

'Ten?' Sparhawk asked.

'She said thirty-four.'

'That's impossible!' Ehlana exclaimed. 'She's been a member of my court for the past seven years. I'd have known if she'd killed anyone while she was in my service.'

'Not if she did it at night, you wouldn't, my Queen,' Sparhawk disagreed. 'She locks us in our rooms every night. She says that it's for our own protection, but maybe it's really so that she can go out looking for entertainment. Maybe we should change the procedure when we get home. Let's start locking her up for the night instead of the other way around.'

'She'll just kick the door down, Sparhawk.'

'That's true, I suppose. We could always chain her to the wall at night, I guess.'

'Sparhawk.' Ehlana exclaimed.

'We can talk about it later. Here comes Fontan and General Engessa.'

'Atan Engessa, Sparhawk,' Oscagne corrected. 'Engessa wouldn't even recognise the t.i.tle of general. He's a warrior-an 'Atan'. That's all the t.i.tle he seems to need. If you call him 'General', you'll insult him, and that's not a good idea.'

Engessa had a deep, quiet voice, and he spoke the Elenic language haltingly and with an exotic accent. He carefully repeated each of their names when Fontan introduced them, obviously committing them to memory. He accepted Ehlana's status without question, although the concept of a queen must have been alien to him. He recognised Sparhawk and the other knights as warriors, and respected them as such. The status of Patriarch Emban, Talen, Stragen and Baroness Melidere obviously baffled him. He greeted Kring, however, with the customary Peloi salute.

'Atana Mirtai advises me that you seek marriage with her,' he said.

'That's right,' Kring replied a bit pugnaciously. 'Have you any objections?'

'That depends. How many have you killed?'

'More than I can conveniently count.'

'That could mean two things. Either you have slain many, or you have a poor head for figures.'

'I can count past two hundred,' Kring declared.

'A respectable number. You are Domi among your people?'

'I am.'

'Who cut your head?' Engessa pointed at the scars on Kring's scalp and face.

'A friend. We were discussing each others' qualifications for leadership.'

'Why did you let him cut you?'

'I was busy. I had my saber in his belly at the time, and I was probing around for various things inside him.'

'Your scars are honourable then. I respect them. Was he a good friend?'

Kring nodded. 'The best. We were like brothers.'

'You spared him the inconvenience of growing old.'

'I did that, all right. He never got a day older.'

'I take no exception to your suit of Atana Mirtai,' Engessa told him. 'She is a child with no family. As the first adult Atan she has met, it is my responsibility to serve as her father. Have you an Oma?'

'Sparhawk serves as my Oma.'

'I would be honoured, Atan. May I also call you friend?'

'I also would be honoured, friend Kring. Hopefully, your Oma and I will be able to arrange the day when you and Atana Mirtai will be branded.'

'May G.o.d speed the day, friend Engessa.'

'I feel as if I've just witnessed something from the dark ages,' Kalten whispered to Sparhawk. 'What do you think would have happened if they'd taken a dislike to each other?'

'It probably would have been messy.'

'When do you want to leave, Ehlana, Queen of Elenia?' Engessa asked.

Ehlana looked at her friends questioningly. 'Tomorrow?' she suggested.

'You should not ask, Ehlana-Queen,' Engessa reprimanded her firmly. 'Command. If any object, have Sparhawk-Champion kill them.'

'We've been trying to cut back on that, Atan Engessa,' she said. 'It's always so hard on the carpeting.'

'Ah,' he said. 'I knew there was a reason. Tomorrow then?'

'Tomorrow, Engessa.'

'I will await you at first light, Ehlana-Queen.' And he turned on his heel and marched from the room.

'Abrupt sort of fellow, isn't he?' Stragen noted.

'He doesn't waste any words,' Tynian agreed.

'A word with you, Sparhawk?' Kring said.

'Of course.'

'You will serve as my Oma, won't you?'

'Of course.'

'Don't pledge too many horses.' Kring frowned. 'What did he mean when he was talking about branding?'

Sparhawk suddenly remembered. 'It's an Atan wedding custom. During the ceremony the happy couple is branded. Each wears the mark of the other.'

'Branded?'

'So I understand.'

'What if a couple doesn't get along?'

'I imagine they cross out the brand.'

'How do you cross out a brand?'

'Probably with a hot iron. Are you still bent on marriage, Kring?'

'Find out where the brand goes, Sparhawk. I'll know better once I have that information.'

'I gather there are places where you'd rather not be branded?'

'Oh, yes. There are definitely places, Sparhawk.'

They left Darsas at first light the following morning and rode eastward toward Pela on the steppes of central Astel. The Atans enclosed the column, loping easily to match the speed of the horses. Sparhawk's concerns about the safety of his queen diminished noticeably. Mirtai had very briefly-even peremptorily-advised her owner that she would travel with her countrymen. She did not precisely ask. A rather peculiar change had come over the golden giantess. That wary tension which had always characterised her seemed to have vanished.

'I can't exactly put my finger on it,' Ehlana confessed about mid-morning when they were discussing it. 'She just doesn't seem quite the same.'

'She isn't, your Majesty,' Stragen told her. 'She's come home, that's all. Not only that, the presence of adults allows her to take her natural place in her own society. She's still a child-in her own eyes at least. She's never talked about her childhood, but I gather it wasn't a time filled with happiness and security. Something happened to her parents, and she was sold into slavery.'

'All of her people are slaves, Milord Stragen,' Melidere objected.