‘Is there some kind of trouble there?’

‘Count Gerrich is raising a rebellion. He seems to think that the crown might fit him. He’s even going so far as to claim that Drychtnath’s returned. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

Her eyes grew distant. ‘Is this shadow you’ve been seeing exactly the same as the one you and Ehlana saw before?’ she asked.

‘It feels different somehow.’

‘Do you get that same sense that it has more than one consciousness in it?’

‘That hasn’t changed. It’s a small group, but it’s a group all the same, and the cloud that tore the Earl of Belton to pieces was definitely the same. Did the Troll-Gods manage to escape from Bhelliom somehow?’

‘Let me think my way through it for a moment, Sparhawk,’ she replied. She considered it for a time. In a curious way she was impressing her own appearance on Danae’s face. ‘I think we may have a problem, dear one,’ she said finally.

‘I noticed that myself, little mother.’

‘Stop trying to be clever, Sparhawk. Do you remember the Dawn-men who came out of that cloud up in Pelosia?’

Sparhawk shuddered. ‘I’ve been making a special point of trying to forget that.’

‘Don’t discount the possibility that the wild stories about Drychtnath may have some basis in fact. The Troll-Gods can reach back in time and bring creatures and people forward to where we are now. Drychtnath may very well indeed have returned.’

Sparhawk groaned. ‘Then the Troll-Gods have managed to escape, haven’t they?’

‘I didn’t say that, Sparhawk. Just because the Troll-Gods did this once doesn’t mean that they’re the only ones who know how. For all I know, Aphrael could do it herself.’ She paused. ‘You could have asked her these questions, you know.’

‘Possibly, but I don’t think I could have asked her this one, because I don’t think she’d know the answer. She doesn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept of limitations for some reason.’

‘You’ve noticed,’ she said dryly.

‘Be nice. She’s my daughter, after all.’

‘She was my sister first, so I have a certain amount of seniority in the matter. What is it that she wouldn’t be able to answer?’

‘Could a Styric magician – or any other magician – be behind all this? Could we be dealing with a human?’

‘No, Sparhawk, I don’t think so. In forty thousand years there have only been two Styric magicians who were able to reach back into time, and they could only do it imperfectly. For all practical purposes what we’re talking about is beyond human capability.’

‘That’s what I wanted to find out for sure. We’re dealing with Gods then?’

‘I’m afraid so, Sparhawk, almost certainly.’

CHAPTER 4

Preceptor Sparhawk:

It is our hope that this finds you and your family in good health.

A matter of some delicacy has arisen, and we find that your presence is required here in Chyrellos. You are therefore commanded by the Church to proceed forthwith to the Basilica and to present yourself before our throne to receive our further instruction. We know that as true son of the Church you will not delay. We shall expect your attendance upon us within the week.

Dolmant, Archprelate.

Sparhawk lowered the letter and looked around at the others.

‘He gets right to the point, doesn’t he?’ Kalten observed. ‘Of course Dolmant never was one to beat around the bush.’

Queen Ehlana gave a howl of absolute fury and began beating her fists on the council table and stamping her feet on the floor.

‘You’ll hurt your hands,’ Sparhawk cautioned.

‘How dare he?’ she exploded. ‘How dare he?’

‘A bit abrupt, perhaps,’ Stragen noted cautiously.

‘You will ignore this churlish command, Sparhawk!’ Ehlana ordered.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You are my husband and my subject! If Dolmant wants to see you, he’ll ask my permission! This is outrageous!’

‘The Archprelate does in fact have the authority to summon the preceptor of one of the Militant Orders to Chyrellos, your Majesty,’ the Earl of Lenda diffidently told the fuming queen.

‘You’re wearing too many hats, Sparhawk,’ Tynian told his friend. ‘You should resign from a few of these exalted positions you hold.’

‘It’s that devastating personality of his,’ Kalten said to Ulath, ‘and all those unspeakable gifts. People just wither and die in his absence.’

‘I forbid it!’ Ehlana said flatly.

‘I have to obey him, Ehlana,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘I’m a Church Knight.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Very well then,’ she decided, ‘since Dolmant’s feeling so authoritarian, we’ll all obey his stupid command. We’ll go to Chyrellos and set up shop in the Basilica. I’ll let him know that I expect him to provide me with adequate facilities and an administrative staff – at his expense. He and I are going to have this out once and for all.’

‘This promises to be one of the high points in the history of the Church,’ Stragen observed.

‘I’ll make that pompous ass wish he’d never been born,’ Ehlana declared ominously.

Nothing Sparhawk might say could in any way change his wife’s mind. If the truth were to be known, however, he did not really try all that hard, because he could see her point. Dolmant was being high-handed. He tended at times to run roughshod over the kings of Eosia and so the clash of wills between the Archprelate and the Queen of Elenia was probably inevitable. The unfortunate thing was that they were genuinely fond of each other, and neither of them was opposing the other out of any petty vanity or pride. Dolmant was asserting the authority of the Church, and Ehlana that of the Elenian throne. They had become institutions instead of people. It was Sparhawk’s misfortune to be caught in the middle.

He was absolutely certain that the arrogant tone of the Archprelate’s letter had not come from his friend but from some half-drowsing scribe absent-mindedly scribbling formula phrases. What Dolmant had most probably said was something on the order of, ‘Send a letter to Sparhawk and tell him I’d like to see him.’ That was not, however, what had arrived in Cimmura. What had arrived had set Ehlana’s teeth on edge, and she went out of her way to make the impending visit to Chyrellos as inconvenient for the Archprelate as she possibly could.