Does this ever get any easier? Itagne plaintively asked the rest of them.
No, Kalten laughed. You get numb after a while, though. Ive found that drinking helps.
Thats Kaltens answer to everything, Flute said with an airy little toss of her head. He tries to cure winter with a barrel of Arcian redevery year.
Have we finished here in this part of the Empire? Sparhawk asked her.
No. Something else is supposed to happen. The Child Goddess sighed and nestled against her sister. Please dont be angry with me, Sephrenia, she said. Youre not going to like whats coming, Im afraid. Its necessary, though. No matter how much it upsets you, always remember that I love you.
She sat up and held her hands out to Sparhawk. I need to talk with you, she said to him ... privately.
Secrets? Talen asked her.
Every girl needs secrets, Talen. Youll learn more about that as time goes on. Lets ride off a ways, Sparhawk. They rode away from the road for several hundred yards, and then moved on, keeping pace with the others. Farans steel-shod hooves clattered on the rusty sun-baked gravel of the desert floor.
Well be going on toward the Tamul border, Flute said as they rode. This event thats ahead of us will happen there, and Ill have to leave you before it does.
Leave? He was startled.
Youll be able to manage without me for a while. I cant be present when this event takes place. Theres a propriety involved. I may be as flighty and frivolous as Itagne suggested, but I do have good manners. A certain personage will be taking part in this affair and hed be insulted if I were present. He and I have had some disagreements in the past, and were not speaking to each other at the moment. She made a rueful little face.
Its been quite a lengthy moment, she admitted, eight or ten thousand years, actually. Hes doing something I dont really approve ofof course, hes never fully explained it to me. I like him well enough, but hes got a terribly superior attitude. He always behaves as if the rest of us are too stupid to understand what hes doingbut I understand very well. Hes breaking one of the cardinal rules. She waved her hand as if brushing it aside. Thats between him and me, though. Look after my sister, Sparhawk. Shes going to have a very difficult time.
Its been quite a lengthy moment, she admitted, eight or ten thousand years, actually. Hes doing something I dont really approve ofof course, hes never fully explained it to me. I like him well enough, but hes got a terribly superior attitude. He always behaves as if the rest of us are too stupid to understand what hes doingbut I understand very well. Hes breaking one of the cardinal rules. She waved her hand as if brushing it aside. Thats between him and me, though. Look after my sister, Sparhawk. Shes going to have a very difficult time.
Shes not going to get sick, is she?
Shed probably prefer that. The Child Goddess sighed. I wish there were some way I could spare her this, but there isnt. She has to go through it if shes going to continue to grow.
Aphrael, shes over three hundred years old.
Whats that got to do with it? Im a hundred times older than that, and Im still growing. She has to do the same. Im lovable, Sparhawk, but I never promised to be easy. This is going to be terribly painful to her, but shell be much better for having gone through it.
Youre not making any sense, you know.
I dont have to make sense, father. Thats one of the advantages of my situation.
They made the journey from Cynestra to the border west of Sama in easy stages, moving at a leisurely pace from oasis to oasis. Sparhawk could not be positive, but it seemed Aphrael was waiting for something. She and Vanion spent a great deal of time with the map, and their jumps across the sun-baked gravel of eastern Cynesga grew shorter and shorter, and their stays at the oases longer. As they neared the border, their pace slowed even more, and more often than not they found themselves simply riding, plodding their way eastward through the interminable empty miles without any resort to Bhelliom at all.
Its difficult to get anything very precise, Itagne was saying on the afternoon of their fourth day out from Cynestra. Most of the sightings have been made by desert nomads, and they dont trust the authorities enough to speak with them at any length. There have been the usual wild stories about vampires and werewolves and harpies and the like, but I rather imagine that most of those flew out of the neck of a wine-skin. The Cynesgan authorities laugh most of those off as no more than the hallucinations of ignorant people who drink too much and spend too much time out in the sun. They take the reports of sightings of the Shining Ones very seriously, however.
All right, Itagne, Kalten said irritably, weve been hearing about these Shining Ones ever since we came to Daresia. People turn all trembly and white-knuckled and refuse to talk about them. Weve got you way out here in the desert where you cant run away, so why dont you tell us just whoor what they are.
Its really quite grotesque, Sir Kalten, Itagne told him, and more than a little sickening.
Ive got a strong stomach. Are they some kind of monster? Twelve feet tall and with nine heads or something?
No. Actually theyre supposed to look like ordinary humans.
Why are they called by that peculiar name? Berit asked.
Why dont you let me ask the questions, Berit? Kalten said bluntly. Kalten, it appeared, still had problems where Berit was concerned.
Excuse me, Sir Kalten, Berit replied, looking just a bit startled and slightly hurt.
Well? Kalten said to Oscagnes brother. What does it mean? Why are they called that?
Because they glow like fireflies, Sir Kalten. Itagne shrugged.
Thats all? Kalten asked incredulously. The whole continent collapses in terror just because some people glow in the dark?
Of course not. The fact that they glow is just a warning. Everybody in Tamuli knows that when he sees someone who shines like the morning star coming toward him, hed better turn round and run for his life.
What are these monsters supposed to be able to do? Talen asked. Do they eat people alive or tear them all to pieces or something?
No, Itagne replied somberly. The legend has it that their merest touch is death.
Sort of like poisonous snakes? Khalad suggested.
Much worse than that, young sir. The touch of the Shining Ones rots a mans flesh from his bones. Its the decay of the grave, and the victim isnt dead when it happens. The descriptions from folk-lore are very lurid. Were given pictures of people standing stock-still, shrieking in agony and horror as their faces and limbs dissolve into slime and run like melted wax.
Thats a graphic picture. Ulath shuddered. Id imagine it sort of interferes with establishing normal relations with these people.
Indeed, Sir Ulath, Itagne smiled, but despite all of that, the Shining Ones are among the most popular figures in Tamul literaturewhich may provide you with some insight into the perversity of our minds.
Are you talking about ghost stories? Talen asked him.
Some people like those, Ive heard.
Delphaeic literature is far more complex than that.
Delphaeic? What does that mean?
Literature refers to the Shining Ones as the Delphae, Itagne replied, and the mythic city where they live is called Delphaeus.
Its a pretty name.
I think thats part of the problem. Tamuls tend to be sentimentalists, and the musical quality of the word fills the eyes of our lesser poets with tears and their brains with mush. They ignore the more unpleasant aspects of the legend and present the Delphae as a simple, pastoral people who are grossly misunderstood. For seven centuries theyve inflicted abominable pastoral verse and overdrawn adolescent eclogues on us. Theyve pictured the Delphae as lyric shepherds, glowing like fireflies and mooning about the landscape, over-dramatically suffering the pangs of unrequited love and ponderingponderously, of coursethe banalities of their supposed religion. The academic world has come to regard Delphaeic literature as a bad joke perpetuated far too long.
Its an abomination! Sephrenia declared with uncharacteristic heat.
Your critical perception does you credit, dear lady, Itagne smiled, but I think your choice of terms over-dignifies the genre. Id characterize Delphaeic literature as adolescent sentimentality perhaps, but I dont really take it seriously enough to grow indignant about it.
Delphaeic literature is a mask for the most pernicious kind of anti-Styric bigotry! she said in tones she usually reserved for ultimatums.
Vanion appeared to be as baffled by her sudden outburst as Sparhawk and the rest. He looked around, obviously seeking some way to change the subject.
Its moving on toward sunset, Kalten noted, stepping in to lend a hand. Kaltens perceptiveness sometimes surprised Sparhawk. Flute, he said, did you plan to put us down beside another one of those water-holes for the night?
Oasis, Kalten, Vanion corrected him. They call it an oasis, not a water-hole.
Thats up to them. They can call it whatever they want, but I know a water-hole when I see one. If were going to do this the old-fashioned way, were going to have to start looking for a place to camp, and theres a ruin of some kind on that hilltop over there to the north. Sephrenia can squeeze water out of the air for us, and if we stay in those ruins we wont have to put up with the smell of boiling dog all night the way we usually do when we camp near one of their villages.
The Cynesgans dont eat dogs, Sir Kalten, Itagne laughed.
I wouldnt swear to that without an honest count of all the dogs in one of their villagesboth before and after supper.
Sparhawk! It was Khalad, and he was roughly shaking his lord into wakefulness. There are people out there!
Sparhawk threw his blankets to one side and rolled to his feet, reaching for his sword. How many? he asked quietly.
Ive seen a dozen or so. Theyre creeping around among those boulders down by the road.
Wake the others.
Yes, my Lord.
Quietly, Khalad. Khalad gave him a flat, unfriendly stare. Sorry.