‘We want to think about that for a while, though,’ Vanion added. ‘Sparhawk and I are still debating the issue. I still think we’ll want to make some show of marching north. If we leave here in about a week with banners flying and five thousand knights added to the forces we’ve gathered in this general area, we’ll have Zalasta’s full attention. If we go out to sea, he won’t know we’re coming, and that might give him the leisure to sniff out some details of Stragen’s plans for our special celebration of the Harvest Festival. Both ideas have an element of surprise involved. We’re quibbling about which surprise would disrupt Zalasta’s plans the most.’
The training of Tamul horses began immediately. Tynian’s knights, of course, complained bitterly. The ridinghorses favored by the Tamul gentry were too small and delicate to carry armored men, and the oversized plow horses used by Tamul farmers were too slow and docile to make good war-horses.
They were always rushed now. Caalador had given the order, and it was irrevocable. The murders would take place during the Harvest Festival, whether their other plans were fully in place or not, and every minute brought the holiday that much closer.
It was five days following the return of Sparhawk and his friends from northern Atan when a runner reached Matherion with a message from Khalad. Mirtai admitted the weary Atan to the sitting room, where Sparhawk and Vanion were still arguing the relative merits of their opposing plans. Wordlessly, the messenger handed Khalad’s note to Sparhawk.
‘My Lord,’ he read the characteristically abrupt note aloud. ‘The earthquake has jumbled the northeast coast. Don’t rely on any charts of the area. You’re going to have to come by sea, however. There’s no way we can climb down the wall – particularly not with Trolls waiting for us at the bottom. Engessa, Kring and I will be waiting with the Atans and Tikume’s Peloi a couple of leagues south of where the wall dives into the Tamul Sea. Don’t take too long to get here. The other side is up to something.’
‘That throws both your plans out the window, doesn’t it,’ Emperor Sarabian noted. ‘You won’t be able to go by land, because you can’t climb down the wall, and you can’t go by sea, because the sea’s filled with uncharted reefs.’
‘And to make matters worse, we’ve only got about two days to make the decision,’ Itagne added. ‘The forces we’re sending to the north are going to have to start moving at least a week before the Festival if they’re going to reach the North Cape in time to spring our second surprise on Zalasta.’
‘I’d better go have a talk with Captain Sorgi,’ Sparhawk said, rising to his feet.
‘He and Caalador are down in the main pantry,’ Stragen advised him. ‘They’re both Cammorians, and Cammorians like to be close to food and drink.’
Sparhawk nodded, and he and Vanion quickly left the room.
An almost immediate friendship had sprung up between Caalador and Sorgi. They were, as Stragen had pointed out, both Cammorians, and they even looked much alike. Both had curly hair, though Sorgi’s was nearly silver by now, and they were both burly men with heavy shoulders and powerful hands. ‘Well, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi said expansively as Sparhawk and Vanion entered the large, airy kitchen store-room, ‘have you solved all the world’s problems yet?’ Captain Sorgi always called Sparhawk by the alias he had used the first time they had met.
‘Hardly, Sorgi. We’ve got one that maybe you can solve for us, though.’
‘Get the money part settled first, Sorgi,’ Caalador recommended. ‘01’ Sporhawk here, he gets a little vague when th’ time comes t’ settle up.’
Sorgi smiled. ‘I haven’t heard that dialect since I left home,’ he told Sparhawk. ‘I could sit and listen to Caalador talk by the hour. Let’s not worry about money yet. The advice is free. It starts costing you money when I lift my anchor up off the bottom.’
‘We have to go to a place where there’s been an earthquake recently,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Kurik’s son just sent me a message. The earthquake has changed things so much that all the old maps are useless.’
‘Happens all the time,’ Sorgi told him. ‘The estuary that runs on up to Vardenais changes her bottom every winter.’
‘How do you deal with that?’
Sorgi shrugged. ‘We put out a small boat with a strong sailor to do the rowing and a clever one to heave the sounding-line. They lead us through.’
‘Isn’t that sort of slow?’
‘Not nearly as slow as trying to steer a sinking ship. How big an area got churned up by the earthquake?’
‘It’s sort of hard to say.’
‘Guess, Master Cluff. Tell me exactly what happened, and give me a guess about how big the danger-spot is.’
Sparhawk glossed over the cause of the sudden change in the coastline and described the emergence of the escarpment.
‘No problem,’ Sorgi assured him.
‘How did you arrive at that conclusion, Captain?’ Vanion asked him.
‘We won’t have to worry about any reefs to the north of your cliff, my Lord. I saw something like that happen on the west coast of Rendor one time. You see, what’s happened is that the cliff keeps on going. It runs on out to sea – under the water – so once you get to the north of it, the water’s going to be a thousand feet deep. Not too many ships I know of draw that much water. I’ll just take along some of the old charts. We’ll go out about ten leagues and sail north. I’ll take my bearings every so often, and when we get six or eight leagues north of this new cliff of yours, we’ll turn west and run straight for the beach. I’ll put your men ashore up there with no trouble at all.’
‘And that’s the problem with your plan, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said. ‘You’ve only got a hundred ships. If you take both the knights and their horses, you’ll only be able to take fifteen hundred up there to face the Trolls.’
‘Is a-winnin’ this yere arg-u-ment real important t’ you two?’ Caalador asked.
‘We’re just looking for the best way, Caalador,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘Then why not combine the two plans? Have Sorgi start north first thing in the morning, and you mount up your armies and ride on up that way as soon as you get things organized. When Sorgi gets to a place ten leagues or so south of the wall, he can feel his way in to shore. You meet him there, and he starts ferrying your army on around the reef and puts you down on the beach north of the wall. Then you can go looking for Trolls, and Sorgi can drop his anchor and spend his time fishing.’
Sparhawk and Vanion looked at each other sheepishly.
‘It’s like I wuz a-sayin’, Sorgi,’ Caalador grinned. ‘Th’ gentry ain’t got hordly no common sense a-tall. I b’leeve it’s ‘cause they ain’t got room in ther heads fer more’n one i’dee at a time.’
Inevitably, the day arrived when the relief column was scheduled to depart for Atan. It was before dawn when Mirtai came into the bedroom of the Queen of Elenia and her Prince Consort. ‘Time to get up,’ the giantess announced.
‘Don’t you know how to knock?’ Sparhawk asked, sitting up in bed.
‘Did I interrupt something?’
‘Never mind, Mirtai,’ he sighed. ‘It’s a custom, that’s all.’
‘Foolishness. Everybody knows what goes on in here.’
‘Isn’t it almost time for you and Kring to get married?’
‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Sparhawk?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Kring and I have decided to wait until after all of this is finished up. Our weddings are going to be a little complicated. We have to go through two ceremonies in two parts of the world. Kring’s not very happy about all the delay.’
‘I can’t for the life of me see why,’ Ehlana said innocently.
‘Men are strange.’ Mirtai shrugged.
‘They are indeed, Mirtai, but how would we amuse ourselves without them?’
Sparhawk dressed slowly, pulling on the padded, rust-stained underclothing with reluctance and eyeing his black-enameled suit of steel work-clothes with active dislike.
‘Did you pack warm clothing?’ Ehlana asked him. ‘The nights are getting chilly even this far south, so it’s going to be very cold up on the North Cape.’
‘I packed it,’ he grunted, ‘for all the good it’s going to do. No amount of clothing helps when you’re wearing steel.’ He made a sour face. ‘I know it’s a contradiction, but I start to sweat the minute I put the armor on. Every knight I’ve ever known does the same. We keep on sweating even when we’re freezing and icicles are forming up inside the armor. Sometimes I wish I’d gone into another line of work. Bashing people for fun and profit starts to wear thin after a while.’
‘You’re in a gloomy mood this morning, love.’
‘It’s just that it’s getting harder and harder to get started. I’ll be all right once I’m on the road.’
‘You will be careful, won’t you, Sparhawk? I’d die if I lost you.’
‘I’m not going to be in all that much danger, dear. I’ve got Bhelliom, and Bhelliom could pick up the sun and break it across its knee. It’s Cyrgon and Zalasta who’ll have to watch out.’
‘Don’t get over-confident.’
‘I’m not. I’ve got more advantages than I can count, that’s all. We’re going to win, Ehlana, and there’s nothing in the world that can stop us. All that’s really left is the tedious plodding from here to the victory celebration.’
‘Why don’t you kiss me for a while now?’ she suggested. ‘Before you put on the armor. It takes weeks for the bruises to go away after you kiss me when you’re all wrapped in steel.’
‘You know,’ he smiled, ‘that’s an awfully good idea. Why don’t we do that?’
The column stretched for several miles, undulating across the rounded hills on the east coast of Lake Sama. There were Church Knights, Atans, Kring’s Peloi, and a few ornately garbed regiments of the Tamul army.
It was a splendid day, one of those perfect autumn days with a stiff wind aloft hurrying puffy white clouds across an intensely blue sky, and the enormous shadows of those clouds raced across the rolling landscape so that Sparhawk’s army rode alternately in sunshine and in shadow. The pennons and flags were of many hues, and they snapped and rippled in the breeze, tugging at the lances and flag-staffs to which they were fastened.
Queen Betuana strode along at Faran’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure, Sparhawk-Knight?’ she asked. ‘The Troll-beasts are animals, and all animals are born knowing how to swim. Even a cat can swim.’
‘Only reluctantly, Betuana-Queen,’ Sparhawk smiled, remembering Mmrr’s ‘cat-paddling’ in Sephrenia’s fish-pond in Sarsos. ‘Ulath-Knight says that we won’t have to worry about the Troll-beasts swimming around the end of the escarpment. They’ll swim across rivers and lakes, but the sea terrifies them. It has something to do with the tides, I think – or maybe it’s the salt.’
‘Must we continue at this slow pace?’ Her tone was impatient.
‘We want to be certain that Zalasta’s spies see us, your Majesty,’ Vanion told her. ‘That’s a very important part of our plan.’
‘Elene battles are very large,’ she observed.
‘We’d prefer smaller ones, Atana, but Zalasta’s schemes stretch across the whole continent, so we have to respond.’
Sephrenia, with Flute riding in front of her, rode forward with Xanetia. They had all watched the tentative friendship growing between Sephrenia and Xanetia. Both were still very cautious, and there were no great leaps in their relationship. The tenuousness now came not from defensiveness but rather from an excess of concern about inadvertently giving offense, and Sparhawk felt that to be a rather profound change for the good. ‘We grew tired of all the stories,’ Sephrenia told Vanion. ‘I can’t be sure which is the bigger liar, Tynian or Ulath.’
‘Oh?’
‘They’re trying to outdo each other. Ulath’s exaggerating outrageously, and I’m sure Tynian’s doing the same thing. Each of them is doing his level best to persuade the other that he missed the adventure of the century. They’ll be drowning in falsehood before long.’
‘It’s a demonstration of a form of affection, little mother,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘They’d be too embarrassed to admit that they’re genuinely fond of each other, so they tell each other wild stories instead.’
‘Did you understand that at all, Xanetia?’ Sephrenia smiled.
‘What reasonable person can ever understand how and why men express their love, sister?’
‘Men aren’t really comfortable with the word “love”,’ Sparhawk told them, ‘particularly when it’s applied to other men.’
‘It is love, though, isn’t it, Sparhawk?’ Sephrenia asked him.
‘Well, I suppose it is, but we’re not comfortable with it all the same.’
‘I have meant to speak with thee, Anarae.’ Betuana lapsed perhaps unconsciously into archaic Tamul.
‘Gladly will I hear thy words, Queen of Atan.’
‘It hath been the wont of youthful Atans to seek Delphaeus, having it in their minds to destroy thy home and to put thy people to the sword. I am heartily sorry that I have permitted this.’
Xanetia smiled. ‘It is of no moment, Queen of Atan. This is but an excess of adolescent enthusiasm. I must freely confess that our fledglings do entertain themselves by deceiving and distracting thine, leading them away from their intended goal by rudimentary enchantments and clumsy deceptions. It cometh to me all unbidden that thus are we both relieved of the obligation to entertain our children, who, by virtue of their youth and inexperience and profound inability to divert themselves, do continually complain that there is nothing for them to do – at least nothing worthy of what they perceive to be their enormous gifts.’
Betuana laughed. ‘Do thy children have that self-same plaint, Anarae?’
‘All children complain,’ Sephrenia assured them. ‘It’s one of the things that make parents age so fast.’
‘Well said,’ Sparhawk agreed. Neither he nor Sephrenia looked directly at Flute.
They reached Lebas in northern Tamul in about two days. Sparhawk had spoken with the army, stressing the enormous power of Bhelliom to explain how it would be possible for them to cover great distances in a short period of time. In actuality, however, Bhelliom was in no way responsible. Flute was in charge of their travel arrangements on this particular trip.