A strange, detached lassitude came over Sparhawk, and he felt himself somehow separating, his awareness sliding away from his body.

‘Attend to me, Xanetia.’ It was Sparhawk’s altered voice, but he had no consciousness of having spoken.

‘Most closely, World-Maker,’ the Anarae replied in her exhausted voice.

‘Let the Child Goddess assume the burden of supporting her sister. I have need of thy hands.’

Aphrael slipped onto the bed and took Sephrenia from Xanetia’s arms and held her in a tender embrace.

‘Take forth the box, Anakha,’ Bhelliom instructed, ‘and surrender it up unto Xanetia.’

Sparhawk’s movements were jerky as he pulled the golden box out from under his tunic and lifted the thong upon which it was suspended up over his head.

‘Gather about thee that serenity which the curse of Edaemus hath bestowed upon thee, Xanetia,’ Bhelliom instructed, ‘and enfold the box – and mine essence – in thy hands, letting thy peace infuse that which thou dost hold.’

Xanetia nodded and extended her glowing hands to take the box from Sparhawk’s grasp.

‘Very good. Now, take the Child Goddess in thine arms. Embrace her and deliver me up unto her.’

Xanetia clasped both Aphrael and Sephrenia in her arms.

‘Excellent. Thy mind is quick, Xanetia. This is even better. Aphrael, open thou the box and draw me forth.’ Bhelliom paused. ‘No tricks,’ it admonished her with uncharacteristic colloquialism. ‘Seek not to ensnare me with thy wiles and thy soft touch.’

‘Don’t be absurd, World-Maker.’

‘I know thee, Aphrael, and I know that thou art more dangerous than ever Azash was or Cyrgon could be. Let us both concentrate all our attention upon the cure of thy sister.’

The Child Goddess opened the lid of the box and lifted out the glowing Sapphire Rose. Sparhawk, all bemused, saw the steady white glow which emanated from Xanetia take on a faint bluish flush as Bhelliom’s radiance joined her own.

‘Apply me, poulticelike, to her wound that I may heal that injury which Zalasta hath inflicted.’

Sparhawk was a soldier and he knew a great deal about wounds. His stomach knotted when he saw the deep, seeping gash in the upper swell of Sephrenia’s left breast.

Aphrael reached out with Bhelliom and gently touched it to the bleeding wound.

Sephrenia started to glow with an azure radiance. She half-raised her head. ‘No,’ she said weakly, trying to push Aphrael’s hand away.

Sparhawk took both her hands in his and held them. ‘It’s all right, little mother,’ he lied softly. ‘Everything’s been taken care of.’

The wound in Sephrenia’s breast had closed, leaving an ugly purple scar. Then, even as they watched, the Sapphire Rose continued its work. The scar shrank down to a thin white line that became fainter and fainter and finally disappeared entirely.

Sephrenia began to cough. It was a gurgling, liquid kind of cough such as a nearly drowned man might make.

‘Hand me that basin, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael instructed. ‘She has to clear the blood out of her lungs.’

Sparhawk reached out and took the large, shallow basin from the nightstand and handed it to her.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘You can have this back now.’ She gave him the closed box, took the basin, and held it under Sephrenia’s chin. That’s right,’ she said encouragingly to her sister as the small woman began coughing up chunks of clotted blood. ‘Get it all out.’

Sparhawk looked away. The procedure was not very pretty.

‘Put thy mind at rest, Anakha,’ Bhelliom’s voice told him softly. ‘Thine enemies are unaware of what hath come to pass.’ The jewel paused. I have not given Edaemus his due, for he is very shrewd. Methinks none other could have perceived the true import of what he hath done. To curse his children as he hath was the only true way to conceal them. I shudder to imagine the pain it must have caused him.’

‘I do not understand,’ Sparhawk confessed.

‘A blessing rings and shimmers in the lucid air like bell-sound, Anakha, but a curse is dark and silent. Were the light which doth emanate from Anarae Xanetia a blessing, all the world would hear and feel its o’erwhelming love, but Edaemus hath made it a curse instead. Therein lay his wisdom. The accursed are cast out and hidden, and no one – man or God – can hear or feel their comings and goings up and down the land. When she did take the box in her hands, Anarae Xanetia did smother all sound and sense of my presence, and when she did embrace Aphrael and Sephrenia and enfold them in her luminous darkness, none living could detect me. Thy mate is safe – for now. Thine enemies have no knowledge of what hath come to pass.’

Sparhawk’s heart soared. I do sorely repent my lack of trust, Blue Rose,’ he apologized.

Thou wert distraught, Anakha. I do freely forgive thee.’

‘Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia’s voice was little more than a whisper.

‘Yes, little mother?’ He went quickly to the side of the bed.

‘You shouldn’t have agreed to this. You’ve put Ehlana in terrible danger. I thought you were stronger.’

‘Everything’s all right, Sephrenia,’ he assured her. ‘Bhelliom just explained it to me. Nobody heard or felt a thing while you were being healed.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘It was Xanetia’s presence – and her touch. Bhelliom says she completely muffled what was going on. It has to do with the difference between a blessing and a curse, as I understand it. However it works, what just happened didn’t put Ehlana in any danger. How are you feeling?’

‘Like a half-drowned kitten, if you really want to know,’ she smiled weakly. Then she sighed. ‘I would never have believed that Zalasta could be capable of what he did.’

‘I’ll make him wish he’d never thought of it,’ Sparhawk said grimly. Im going to tear out his heart, roast it on a spit, and then serve it up to Aphrael on a silver plate.’

‘Isn’t he a nice boy?’ Aphrael said fondly.

‘No.’ Sephrenia’s voice was surprisingly firm. ‘I appreciate the thought, dear ones, but I don’t want either of you to do anything to Zalasta. I’m the one he stabbed, so I want to be the one who decides who gets him.’

‘I suppose that’s fair,’ Sparhawk conceded.

‘What have you got in mind, Sephrenia?’ Aphrael asked.

‘Vanion’s going to be dreadfully upset when he hears about this. I don’t want him raging and breaking up the furniture, so I’m going to give Zalasta to him – all tied up in a bright red ribbon.’