Domes of Fire Part 3

'That's right.'

'Then you've only got yourself to blame. I'll have Naween stop by and explain it all to her.'

'Are you out of your mind?'

Talen came in from Demos the next day, and he rode into the courtyard with Sir Berit. Sparhawk and Khalad met them at the stable door. The prince consort was making some effort to be inconspicuous until such time as the queen's curiosity about Naween diminished. Talen's nose was red, and his eyes looked puffy.

'I thought you were going to stay at the farm until you got over that cold,' Sparhawk said to him.

'I couldn't stand all that mothering,' Talen said, slipping down from his saddle. 'One mother is bad enough, but my brothers and I have two now. I don't think I'll ever be able to look another bowl of chicken soup in the face again. h.e.l.lo, Khalad.'

'Talen,' Sparhawk's burly young squire grunted. He looked critically at his half-brother. 'Your eyes look terrible.'

'You ought to see them from in here.'

Talen was about fifteen now, and he was going through one of those stages. Sparhawk was fairly certain that the young thief had grown three inches in the past month and a half. A goodly amount of forearm and wrist stuck out of the sleeves of his doublet.

'Do you think the cooks might have something to eat?' the boy asked. As a result of his rapid growth, Talen ate almost constantly now.

'I've got some papers for you to sign, Sparhawk,' Berit said. 'It's nothing very urgent, but I thought I'd ride in with Talen.' Berit wore a mail shirt, and he had a broadsword belted at his waist. His weapon of choice, however, was still the heavy war-axe slung to his saddle.

'Are you going back to the chapterhouse?' Khalad asked him.

'Unless Sparhawk has something he wants me for here.'

'I'll ride along with you then. Sir Clart wants to give us more instruction with the lance this afternoon.'

'Why don't you just unhorse him a few times?' Berit suggested. 'Then he'll leave you alone. You could do it, you know. You're already better than he is.'

Khalad shrugged. 'It'd hurt his feelings.'

'Not to mention his ribs, shoulders and back,' Berit laughed.

'It's a bit ostentatious to outperform your instructors,' Khalad said. 'The other novices are already a little sulky about the way my brothers and I have outstripped them. We've tried to explain, but they're sensitive about the fact that we're peasants. You know how that goes.' He looked inquiringly at Sparhawk. 'Are you going to need me for anything this afternoon, my Lord?'

'No. Go ahead on out and dent Sir Clart's armour a bit. He's got an exaggerated notion of his own skill. Give him some instruction in the virtue of humility.'

'I'm really hungry, Sparhawk,' Talen complained.

'All right. Let's go to the kitchen.' Sparhawk looked critically at his young friend. 'Then I guess we'll have to send for the tailor again,' he added. 'You're growing like a weed.'

'It's not my idea.'

Khalad started to saddle his horse, and Sparhawk and Talen went into the palace in search of food. It was about an hour later when the two of them entered the royal apartment to find Ehlana, Mirtai and Danae sitting by the fire. Ehlana was leafing through some doc.u.ments. Danae was playing with Rollo, and Mirtai was sharpening one of her daggers. 'Well,' Ehlana said, looking up from the doc.u.ments, "if it isn't my n.o.ble prince consort and my wandering page.'

Talen bowed. Then he sniffed loudly.

'Use your handkerchief,' Mirtai told him.

'Yes, ma'am.'

'How are your mothers?' Ehlana asked the young man. Everyone, perhaps unconsciously, used that phrasing when speaking to Talen and his half-brothers. In a very real sense, though, the usage reflected reality. Aslade and Elys mothered Kurik's five sons excessively and impartially.

'Meddlesome, my Queen,' Talen replied. "It's not really a good idea to get sick in that house. In the last week I think I've been dosed with every cold remedy known to man.' A peculiar, squeaky noise came from somewhere in the general vicinity of the young man's midsection.

'Is that your stomach?' Mirtai asked him. 'Are you hungry again?'

'No. I just ate. I probably won't get hungry again for at least fifteen minutes.' Talen put one hand to the front of his doublet. 'The little beast was being so quiet I almost forgot it was there.' He went over to Danae, who was tying the strings of a little bonnet under the chin of her stuffed toy. 'I've brought a present for you, Princess,' he said.

Her eyes brightened. She set Rollo aside and sat waiting expectantly.

'But no kissing,' he added. 'Just a "thank you" will do. I've got a cold, and you don't want to catch it.'

'What did you bring me?' she asked eagerly.

'Oh, just a little something I found under a bush out on the road. It's a little wet and muddy, but you can dry it out and brush it off, I suppose. It's not much, but I thought you might like it-just a little.' Talen was underplaying it for all he was worth.

'Could I see it, please?' she begged.

'Oh, I suppose so.' He reached inside his doublet, took out a rather bedraggled grey kitten and sat it on the floor in front of her. The kitten had mackerel stripes, a spiky tail, large ears and an intently curious look in its blue eyes. It took a tentative step toward its new mistress. Danae squealed with delight, picked up the kitten and hugged it to her cheek. "I love it!!' she exclaimed.

'There go the draperies,' Mirtai said with resignation. 'Kittens always want to climb the drapes.'

Talen skilfully fended off Sparhawk's exuberant little daughter. 'The cold, Danae,' the boy warned. 'I've got a cold, remember?'

Sparhawk was certain that his daughter would grow more skilled with the pa.s.sage of time and that it wouldn't be very long until Talen would no longer be able to evade her affection. The kitten had been no more than a gesture, Sparhawk was certain, some spur-of-the-moment impulse to which Talen had given no thought whatsoever. It rather effectively sealed the young man's fate, however. A few days before, Sparhawk had idly wondered where he had made the mistake that had permanently attached his wife's affection to him. He realised that this scruffy-looking kitten was Talen's mistake-or at least one of them. Sparhawk mentally shrugged. Talen would make an adequate son-in-law-once Danae had trained him.

'Is it all right, your Majesty?' Talen was asking the queen. 'For her to have the kitten, I mean?'

'Isn't it just a little late to be asking that question, Talen?' Ehlana replied.

'Oh, I don't know,' he said impudently. "I thought I'd timed it just about right.'

Ehlana looked at her daughter, who was snuggling the kitten against her face. All cats are born opportunists. The kitten patted the little girl's cheek with one soft paw and then nuzzled. Kittens are expert nuzzlers.

'How can I say no after you've already given it to her, Talen?'

'It would be a little difficult, wouldn't it, your Majesty?' The boy sniffed loudly.

Mirtai rose to her feet, put her dagger away and crossed the room to Talen. She reached out her hand, and he flinched away. 'Oh, stop that,' she told him. She laid her hand on his forehead. 'You've got a fever.'

'I didn't get it on purpose.'

'We'd better get him to bed, Mirtai,' Ehlana said, rising from her chair.

'We should sweat him first,' the giantess said. 'I'll take him to the bathhouse and steam him for a while.' She took Talen's arm, firmly.

'You're not going into the bathhouse with me!' he protested, his face suddenly aflame.

'Be quiet,' she commanded. 'Send word to the cooks, Ehlana. Have them stir up a mustard plaster and boil up some chicken soup. When I bring him back from the bathhouse, we'll put the mustard plaster on his chest, pop him into bed and spoon soup into him.'

'Are' you going to just stand there and let them do this to me, Sparhawk?' Talen appealed.

'I'd like to help you, my friend,' Sparhawk replied, 'but I've got my own health to consider too, you know.'

'I wish I was dead,' Talen groaned as Mirtai pulled him from the room.

Stragen and Ulath arrived from Emsat a few days later and were immediately escorted to the royal apartment. 'You're getting fat, Sparhawk,' Ulath said bluntly, removing his ogre-horned helmet.

'I've put on a few pounds,' Sparhawk conceded.

'Soft living,' Ulath grunted disapprovingly.

'How's Wargun?' Ehlana asked the huge blond Thalesian.

'His mind's gone,' Ulath replied sadly. 'They've got him locked up in the west wing of the palace. He spends most of his time raving.'

Ehlana sighed. "I always rather liked him-when he was sober.'

'I doubt that you'll feel the same way about his son, your Majesty,' Stragen told her dryly. Like Platime, Stragen was a thief, but he had much better manners.

'I've never met him,' Ehlana said.

'You might consider adding that to your next prayer of thanksgiving, your Majesty. His name's Avin-a short and insignificant name for a short and insignificant fellow. He doesn't show very much promise.'

'Is he really that bad?' Ehlana asked Ulath.

'Avin Wargunsson? Stragen's being generous. Avin's a little man who spends all his time trying to make sure that people don't overlook him. When he found out that I was coming here, he called me to the palace and gave me a royal communication to bring to you. He spent two hours trying to impress me.'

'Were you impressed?'

'Not particularly, no.' Ulath reached inside his surcoat and drew out a folded and sealed sheet of parchment.

'What does it say?' she asked.

'I wouldn't know. I don't read other people's mail. My guess is that it's a serious discussion of the weather. Avin Wargunsson's desperately afraid that people might forget about him, so every traveller who leaves Emsat is loaded down with royal greetings.'

'How was the trip?' Sparhawk asked them.

'I can't really say that I'd recommend sea travel at this time of year,' Stragen replied. His icy blue eyes hardened. "I want to have a talk with Platime. Ulath and I were set upon by some brigands in the mountains between here and Cardos. Bandits are supposed to know better than that.'

'They aren't professionals,' Sparhawk told him. 'Platime knows about them, and he's going to take steps. Were there any problems?'

'Not for us,' Ulath shrugged. 'The amateurs out there didn't have a very good day, though. We left five of them in a ditch, and then the rest all remembered an important engagement somewhere else.' He went to the door and looked out into the hall. Then he closed the door and looked around, his eyes wary. 'Are there any servants or people like that in any of your rooms here, Sparhawk?' he asked.

'Mirtai and our daughter is all.'

'That's all right. I think we can trust them. Komier sent me to let you know that Avin Wargunsson's been in contact with Count Gerrich down in Lamorkand. Gerrich's taking a run at King Friedahl's throne, and Avin's not quite bright. He doesn't know enough to stay out of the internal squabbles in Lamorkand. Komier thinks there might just possibly be some sort of secret arrangement between them. Patriarch Bergsten's taking the same message to Chyrellos.'

'Count Gerrich's going to start to irritate Dolmant if he doesn't watch what he's doing,' Ehlana said. 'He's trying to make alliances every time he turns around, and he knows that's a violation of the rules. Lamork civil wars aren't supposed to involve other kingdoms.'

'That's an actual rule?' Stragen asked her incredulously.

'Of course. It's been in place for a thousand years. If the Lamork barons were free to form alliances with n.o.bles in other kingdoms, they'd plunge the continent into war every ten years. That used to happen until the Church stepped in and told them to stop.'

'And you thought our society had peculiar rules,' Stragen laughed to Platime.

'This is entirely different, Milord Stragen,' Ehlana told him in a lofty tone. 'Our peculiarities are matters of state policy. Yours are simply good common sense. There's a world of difference.'

'So I gather.'

Sparhawk was looking at all three of them when it happened, so there was no doubt that when he felt that peculiar chill and caught that faint flicker of darkness at the very outer edge of his vision, they did as well.

'Sparhawk!' Ehlana cried in alarm.

'Yes,' he replied. "I know. I saw it too.'

Stragen had half-drawn his rapier, his hand moving with cat-like speed. 'What is it?' he demanded, looking around the room.

'An impossibility,' Ehlana said flatly. The look she gave her husband was a little less certain, however. 'Isn't it, Sparhawk?' her voice trembled slightly.

I certainly thought so,' he replied.

'This isn't the time to be cryptic,' Stragen said. Then they all relaxed as the chill and the shadow pa.s.sed.

Ulath looked speculatively at Sparhawk. 'Was that what I thought it was?' he asked.

'So it seems.'

'Will someone please tell me what's going on here?' Stragen demanded.

'Do you remember that cloud that followed us up in Pelosia?' Ulath said.

'Of course. But that was Azash, wasn't it?'

'No. We thought so, but Aphrael told us that we were wrong. That was after you came back here, so you probably didn't hear about it. That shadow we just saw was the Troll-G.o.ds. They're inside the Bh.e.l.liom.'

'Inside?'

'They needed a place to hide after they'd lost a few arguments with the Younger G.o.ds of Styric.u.m.' Stragen looked at Sparhawk. "I thought you told me that you'd thrown Bh.e.l.liom into the sea.'

'We did.'

'And the Troll-G.o.ds can't get out of it?'

'That's what we were led to believe.'

'You should have found a deeper ocean.'