‘Will you please tell me what’s going on?’ Gahennas asked.
‘Chacole sent some people to kill you,’ Elysoun told her. ‘Liatris and I found out about it, and came to rescue you.’
‘Why would Chacole do that?’
‘Because you know too much about what she’s planning.’
‘That silly plan to implicate Cieronna in a spurious assassination plot?’
‘The plot wasn’t spurious, and Cieronna wasn’t even remotely connected with it. Chacole and Torellia are planning to kill our husband.’
‘Treason!’ Gahennas gasped.
‘Probably not. Chacole and Torellia are members of royal houses currently at war with the Tamul Empire, and they’re getting orders from home. The assassination of Sarabian could technically be called an act of war.’ Elysoun stopped as a wave of nausea swept over her. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said in a sick little voice.
‘What’s wrong?’ Liatris demanded.
‘It’s nothing. It’ll pass.’
‘Are you sick?’
‘Sort of. It’s nothing to worry about. I should have eaten something when you woke me up, that’s all.’
‘You’re white as a sheet. What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’m pregnant, if you really have to know.’
‘It was bound to happen eventually, Elysoun,’ Gahennas said smugly. ‘I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier, the way you carry on. Have you any idea at all of who the father is?’
‘Sarabian,’ Elysoun replied with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘Do you think it’s safe to leave now, Liatris? I think we’d better get to our husband as quickly as we can. Chacole wouldn’t have sent people to kill Gahennas unless this was the night when she was planning her attempt on Sarabian.’
‘She’ll have people watching all the doors,’ Liatris said.
‘Not all the doors, dear,’ Elysoun smiled. ‘I know of at least three that she’s not aware of. You see, Gahennas, there are some advantages to having an active social life. Check the hallway, Liatris. Let’s get Gahennas out of here before Chacole’s assassins come back.’
The Cyrgai at the bronze gate stood back fearfully as Sparhawk led the others up the last few steps. ‘Yala Cyrgonl’ the officer in charge said, smashing his fist against his breastplate in a kind of formal salute.
‘Respond, Anakha,’ Xanetia’s voice murmured in Sparhawk’s ear. “Tis customary.’
‘Yala Cyrgonl’ Sparhawk said, also banging on his chest and being careful not to allow the cloak he’d removed from the unconscious Temple Guardsman to open and reveal the fact that he was wearing his mail-shirt rather than an ornate breastplate.
The officer seemed not to notice. Sparhawk and the others marched through the gate and moved along a broad street toward a kind of central square. ‘Is he still watching?’ Sparhawk muttered.
‘Nay, Anakha,’ Xanetia replied. ‘He and his men have returned to the guardroom beside the gate.’
It had appeared from below that the only buildings within the walls at the summit of Cyrga were the fortress-palace and the temple, but that was not entirely true. There were other structures as well, low, utilitarian-looking buildings, storehouses for the most part, Sparhawk guessed. ‘Talen,’ he said back over his shoulder, ‘ease over to the side of the street. Find a door you can get open in a hurry. Let’s get out of sight while Xanetia scouts around.’
‘Right,’ Talen replied. He ducked into the shadows and a moment later they heard his whisper and quickly moved to the door he was holding open for them.
‘Now what?’ Kalten asked.
‘Xanetia and I go looking for Ehlana and Alean,’ Aphrael’s voice replied out of the darkness.
‘Where were you?’ Talen asked curiously. ‘When we were coming up the hill, I mean?’
‘Here and there,’ she replied. ‘My family’s moving all the others into position, and I wanted to be sure everything’s going according to schedule.’
‘Is it?’
‘It is now. There were a couple of problems, but I took care of them. Let’s get at this, Xanetia. We still have a lot to do before morning.’
‘Ah, there they are,’ Setras said. ‘I wasn’t really all that far off, now was I?’
‘Are you sure this time?’ Bergsten demanded.
‘You’re cross with me, aren’t you, Bergsten?’
Bergsten sighed, and decided to let it pass. ‘No, Divine One,’ he replied. ‘We all make mistakes, I guess.’
‘That’s frightfully decent of you, old boy,’ Setras thanked him. ‘We were moving in generally the right direction. I was just off a few degrees, that’s all.’
‘Are you certain those are the right peaks this time, Divine One?’ Heldin rumbled.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Setras said happily. ‘They’re exactly as Aphrael described them. You notice how they glow in the moonlight?’
Heldin squinted across the desert at the two glowing spires rearing up out of the dark jumble of broken rock. ‘They look about right,’ he said dubiously.
‘I have to go find the gate,’ Setras told them. ‘It’s supposed to be exactly on a line from the gap between the two peaks.’
‘Are you sure, Divine One?’ Bergsten asked. ‘It’s that way on the south side, but do we know for certain that it’s the same here on the north?’
‘You’ve never met Cyrgon, have you, old boy? He’s the most rigid creature you’ve ever seen. If there’s a gate on the south, there’ll be one on the north as well, believe me. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.’ He turned and strolled off across the desert toward the two peaks glowing in the moonlight.
Atana Maris was standing to one side of Bergsten and Heldin with a slightly troubled look on her face.
‘What’s the matter, Atana?’ Heldin asked her.
‘I think there is something I do not understand, Heldin-Knight,’ she replied, struggling to put her thought into Elenic. The Setras person is a God?’
‘A Styric God, yes.’
‘If he is a God, how did he get lost?’
‘We’re not certain, Atana Maris.’
‘That is what I do not understand. If Setras-God were a human, I would say that he is stupid. But he is a God, so he cannot be stupid, can he?’