David Eddings - The Shining Ones

Khalad rode up. ‘We couldn’t find any sign of Elron, Sparhawk,’ he reported. ‘We captured a few of those serfs, and they told us that he wasn’t here.’

‘Who was in charge, then?’

‘That husky fellow Berit put to sleep with the flat of his axe seems to have been the one giving all the orders.’

‘Wake him up and see what you can get out of him. Don’t twist him too hard, though. If he decides to be stubborn, we’ll wait until Xanetia gets here. She can find out everything he knows without hurting him.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’ Khalad wheeled his mount and went looking for Berit.

‘You have a kindly disposition for a warrior, Sparhawk-Knight,’ Betuana observed.

‘These serfs aren’t really our enemies, Betuana-Queen. I’ll show you the other side of my nature after we catch Zalasta.’

‘His name is Torbik,’ Khalad reported when he joined them in the pavilion they had erected for the ladies. ‘He was one of Sabre’s first followers. I think he’s a serf from Baron Kotyk’s estate. He wouldn’t say so, but I’m fairly sure he knows that Elron is Sabre.’

‘Does he know why Elron sent him rather than coming here himself?’ Tynian asked.

‘He hasn’t a clue—or so he says,’ Khalad replied. ‘Anarae Xanetia can look inside his head and find out for sure.’ He paused. ‘Excuse me, Anarae,’ he said to the Delphaeic woman. ‘We all keep groping for ways to describe what you do when you listen to the thoughts of others. We’d probably be a lot less offensive if you’d tell us the right word for it.’

Xanetia, who had arrived with Sephrenia, Talen and Flute on Sorgi’s ship with the first contingent being ferried around the reef, smiled. ‘I had wondered which of ye would be the first to ask,’ she said. ‘Methinks I should have known it would be thee, young master, for thine is the most practical mind in all this company. We of the Delphae do refer to this modest gift as “sharing”. We share the thoughts of others, we do not “leech” them, nor do we scoop them like struggling minnows from the dark waters of consciousness.’

‘Would it offend you, Sir Knights, if I pointed out that it’s easier to ask than to grope your way through four languages looking for the right term?’ Khalad asked rather innocently.

‘Yes,’ Vanion said, ‘as a matter of fact it would offend us.’

‘I won’t point it out, then, my Lord.’ Khalad even managed to say it with a straight face. ‘Anyway, Torbik was here primarily to keep the Astellian serfs from talking with Ayachin’s warriors too much. Evidently there’s a great potential for confusion in the situation. Elron definitely didn’t want the two groups to start comparing notes.’

‘Does he have any idea at all about where Elron is right now?’ Kalten asked.

‘He doesn’t even know where he is right now. Elron just said a few vague things about eastern Astel and let it go at that. Torbik wasn’t really the one in charge here—any more than Ayachin was. There was a Styric with them, and he was the one who was giving all the orders. He was probably one of the first to run off into the woods when we came ashore.’

‘Could that have been Djarian?’ Bevier asked Sephrenia. ‘Zalasta’s necromancer? Somebody had to be the one who plucked Ayachin out of the ninth century.’

‘It might have been,’ Sephrenia replied doubtfully. ‘More likely, though, it was one of Djarian’s pupils. It’s the initial spell that’s difficult. Once the people from the past have been successfully raised, a fairly simple spell can bring them back again. I’m sure there was a Styric south of the wall calling up Incetes and his men as well. Zalasta and Ogerajin have a large body of renegades to draw upon.’

‘May I come in?’ Captain Sorgi asked from just outside the tent.

‘Of course, Captain,’ Vanion replied.

The silvery-haired seaman came inside. ‘We’ll have the last of your people ashore on this side of the reef by tomorrow noon, my Lords,’ he reported. ‘You’ll want us to wait here, won’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘if all goes well, we’ll need to go back around the reef after we’ve finished at Tzada.’

‘Will the warm water hold? I’d rather not get ice-bound up here.’

‘We’ll see to it, Captain,’ Sparhawk promised.

Sorgi shook his head. ‘You’re a strange man, Master Cluff. You can do things no one I’ve ever met can do.’ He suddenly smiled. ‘But strange or not, you’ve thrown a lot of profit my way since you started running away from that ugly heiress.’ He looked at the others. ‘But I’m just interrupting things here. Do you suppose I might have a word with you in private, Master Cluff?’

‘Of course.” Sparhawk rose and followed the sailor outside.

‘I’ll get right to the point,’ Sorgi said. ‘Do you have any further plans for these rafts—after you use them to go back around the reef, I mean?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Would it be all right with you if I left a crew on the beach south of the reef while I run you and your friends back to Matherion?’

‘I have no objections, Captain, but I don’t quite understand.’

‘The rafts are made of very good logs, Master Cluff. After your army uses them to get around the reef, they’ll just be lying there. It’d be a shame to waste them. I thought I’d leave a crew to lash them together into some kind of boom. I’ll come back after I drop you off in Matherion, and we’ll tow them to the timber market in Etalon—or maybe even back to Matherion itself. They should fetch a good price.’

Sparhawk laughed. ‘Good old Sorgi,’ he said, putting a friendly hand on the sea-captain’s shoulder. ‘You never overlook a chance for a profit, do you? Take the logs with my blessing.’

‘You’re a generous man, Master Cluff.’

‘You’re my friend, Captain Sorgi, and I like doing things for friends.’

‘You’re my friend as well, Master Cluff. The next time you need a ship, come and look me up. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’ Sorgi paused, his expression suddenly cautious. ‘For only half price,’ he added.

The village of Tzada had been abandoned several years ago, and the rampaging Trolls had knocked most of the buildings down. It lay at the edge of a vast marshy meadow with Bhelliom’s escarpment looming over it to the south. The sun was just rising far to the southeast, and the grassy meadow was thick with frost that glittered in the slanting sunlight.

‘How large is the meadow, your Majesty?’ Vanion asked Betuana.

‘Two leagues across and six or eight leagues long. It will be a good battlefield.’

‘We were sort of hoping to avoid that, your Majesty,’ Vanion reminded her.

Engessa was ordering his scouts out to pinpoint the exact location of the Trolls. ‘We were able to see them from the top of the escarpment,’ he told Vanion. ‘They’ve been gathering out in the middle of the meadow every day for the past several weeks. They were too far away for us to see exactly what they’ve been doing, though. The scouts will locate them for us.’

‘What’s the plan, friend Sparhawk?’ Kring asked, fingering his saber-hilt. ‘Do we march on them and turn their Gods loose on them at the last minute?’

‘I want to talk with the Troll-Gods first,’ Aphrael said. ‘We want to be absolutely certain that they understand all the conditions of their release.’

Vanion rubbed at the side of his face. ‘I think we’ll want the Trolls to come to us instead of the other way round, don’t you, Sparhawk?’

‘Definitely, but a feint of some kind should draw them out. ‘ Sparhawk thought for a moment. ‘Why don’t we move a mile or so out into the meadow so they can see us. Then we’ll draw up in a standard formation—knights in the center, Atans on either side, and the Peloi out on the flanks. Cyrgon’s got a milltary mind, and that formation’s older than dirt. He’ll think we’re preparing to attack. The Cyrgai are an aggressive people, and they would want to attack first. Cyrgon’s commanding Trolls this time instead of his own people, but I think we can count on him to do what’s customary.’