‘Logic can’t answer all the questions, Sir Bevier,’ Emban advised. He hesitated. ‘You don’t have to tell Dolmant I said that, of course,’ he added.

‘It may be that the enchantment’s no longer in force,’ Sephrenia suggested to Zalasta. ‘There’s no real need for it, since the Cyrgai are extinct.’

‘And no way to prove it either,’ Ulath added, ‘one way or the other.’

Stragen suddenly laughed. ‘He’s right, you know,’ he said. ‘There might very well be this dreadful curse out there that nobody even knows about because the people it’s directed at all died out thousands of years ago. What finally happened to them, learned one?’ he asked Zalasta. ‘You said that they were extinct.’

‘Actually, Milord Stragen, they bred themselves out of existence.’

‘Isn’t that a contradiction?’ Tynian asked him.

‘Not really. The Cynesgans had been very nearly wiped out, but now they were of vital importance, since they were the only troops at Cyrgon’s disposal who could cross the frontiers. He directed the Cyrgai to concentrate on breeding up new armies of these formerly despised underlings. The Cyrgai were perfect soldiers who always obeyed orders to the letter. They devoted their attention to the Cynesgan women even to the exclusion of their own. By the time they realised their mistake, all the Cyrgai women were past child-bearing age. Legend had it that the last of the Cyrgai died about ten thousand years ago.’

‘That raises idiocy to an art-form, doesn’t it?’ Stragen observed.

Zalasta smiled a thin sort of smile. ‘At any rate, what used to be Cyrga is now Cynesga. It’s occupied by a defective, mongrel race that manages to survive only because it sits astride the major trade routes between the Tamuls of the east and the Elenes of the west. The rest of the world looks upon these heirs of the invincible Cyrgai with the deepest contempt. They’re sneaky, cowardly, thieving and disgustingly servile – a fitting fate for the offspring of a race that once thought it was divinely destined to rule the world.’

‘History’s such a gloomy subject,’ Kalten sighed.

‘Cynesga’s not the only place where the past is returning to haunt us,’ Zalasta added.

‘We’ve noticed,’ Tynian replied. ‘The Elenes in western Astel are all convinced that Ayachin’s returned.’

‘Then you’ve heard of the one they call Sabre?’ Zalasta asked.

‘We ran across him a couple of times,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I don’t think he poses much of a threat. He’s an adolescent poseur.’

‘He satisfies the needs of the western Astels, though,’ Tynian added. ‘They’re not exactly what you’d call deep.’

‘I’ve encountered them,’ Zalasta said wryly. ‘Kimear of Daconia and Baron Parok, his spokesman, are a bit more serious, though. Kimear was one of those men on horseback who emerge from time to time in Elene societies. He subdued the other two Elene Kingdoms in western Astel and founded one of those empires of a thousand years that spring up from time to time and promptly fall apart when the founder dies. The hero in Edom is Incetes – a bronze-age fellow who actually managed to hand to Cyrgai their first defeat. The one who does his talking for him calls himself Rebal. That’s not his real name, of course. Political agitators usually go by assumed names. Ayachin, Kimear and Incetes appeal to the very simplest of Elene emotional responses – muscularity, primarily. I wouldn’t offend you for the world, my friends, but you Elenes seem to like to break things and burn down other people’s houses.’

‘It’s a racial flaw,’ Ulath conceded.

‘The Arjuni present us with slightly different problems,’ Zalasta continued. ‘They’re members of the Tamul race, and their deep-seated urges are a bit more sophisticated. Tamuls don’t want to rule the world, they just want to own it.’ He smiled briefly at Oscagne. ‘The Arjuni aren’t very attractive as representatives of the race, though. Their hero is the fellow who invented the slave-trade.’

Mirtai’s breath hissed sharply, and her hand went to her dagger.

‘Is there some problem, Atana?’ Oscagne asked her mildly.

‘I’ve had experience with the slave-traders of Arjuna, Oscagne,’ she replied shortly. ‘Someday I hope to have more, and I won’t be a child this time.’

Sparhawk realised that Mirtai had never told them the story of how she had become a slave.

‘This Arjuni hero’s of a somewhat more recent vintage than the others,’ Zalasta continued. ‘He was of the twelfth century. His name was Sheguan.’

‘We’ve heard of him,’ Engessa said bleakly. ‘His slavers used to raid the training camps of Atan children. We’ve more or less persuaded the Arjuni not to do that any more.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ Baroness Melidere said.

‘It was an absolute disaster, Baroness,’ Oscagne told her. ‘Some Arjuni slavers made a raid into Atan in the seventeenth century, and an imperial administrator got carried away by an excess of righteous indignation. He authorised the Atans to mount a punitive expedition into Arjuna.’

‘Our people still sing songs about it,’ Engessa said in an almost dreamy fashion.

‘Bad?’ Emban asked Oscagne.

‘Unbelievable,’ Oscagne replied. ‘The silly ass who authorised the expedition didn’t realise that when you command the Atans to do something, you have to specifically prohibit certain measures. The fool simply turned them loose. They actually hanged the King of Arjuna himself and then chased all his subjects into the southern jungles. It took us nearly two hundred years to coax the Arjuni down out of the trees. The economic upheaval was a disaster for the entire continent.’

‘These events are somewhat more recent,’ Zalasta noted. ‘The Arjuni have always been slavers, and Sheguan was only one of several operating in northern Arjuna. He was an organiser more than anything. He established the markets in Cynesga and codified the bribes that protect the slave-routes. The peculiar thing we face in Arjuna is that the spokesman’s more important than the hero. His name is Scarpa, and he’s a brilliant and dangerous man.’

‘What about Tamul itself?’ Emban asked, ‘and Atan?’

‘We both seem to be immune to the disease, your Grace,’ Oscagne replied. ‘It’s probably because Tamuls are too egotistical for hero worship and because the Atans of antiquity were all so much shorter than their descendants that modern Atans overlook them.’ He smiled rather slyly at Engessa. ‘The rest of the world’s breathlessly awaiting the day when the first Atan tops ten feet. I think that’s the ultimate goal of their selective breeding campaign.’ He looked at Zalasta. ‘Your information’s far more explicit than ours, learned one,’ he complimented the Styric. ‘The best efforts of the empire have unearthed only the sketchiest of details about these people.’