David Eddings - The Shining Ones

‘Are you ever going to be able to tame her again?’ Sparhawk asked Vanion.

‘It may take a while.’ Vanion’s tone was troubled.

The writhing, half-formed shape of the flame-like Cyrgon partially rose and waved one huge, fiery arm, and a half-mile or so behind the Trolls there suddenly appeared a vast glittering.

‘He’s called up his Cyrgai!’ Khalad shouted. ‘We’d better do something.’

‘Ghworg! Schlee!’ Vanion roared in Bhelliom’s huge voice. ‘Cyrgon hath summoned his children. Now may your children feast!’

The Troll-Gods swelled even more enormous and barked sharp commands to their prostrate worshipers. The Trolls scrambled to their feet, turned, and looked hungrily at the advancing Cyrgai drawn from ages past. Then with a great roar they rushed toward the banquet Cyrgon had so generously provided.

Ehlana was tired. It had been one of those exhausting days, with so many things to do that nothing had been really wrapped up before the next intruded itself. She had retired to the royal bedroom with Mirtai, Alcan and Melidere to prepare for bed. Danae trailed along behind them, dragging Rollo by one hind leg and yawning broadly.

‘The Emperor was in a peculiar humor this evening,’ Melidere noted, closing the door behind them.

‘Sarabian’s nerves are strung a little tight right now,’ Ehlana said, sitting down at her dressing-table. ‘The future of his whole empire hinges on what Sparhawk and the others are doing in the north, and there’s no way he can keep track of what’s going on up there.’

Danae yawned again and curled up in a chair. ‘Where’s your cat?’ Ehlana asked her.

‘She’s around somewhere,’ Danae replied sleepily.

‘Check my bed, Mirtai,’ Ehlana instructed. ‘I don’t like furry little surprises in the middle of the night.’

Mirtai patted down the canopied royal bed and then dropped to her knees to look under all the furniture. ‘No sign of her, Ehlana,’ she reported.

‘You’d better go find her, Danae,’ the queen said.

‘I’m sleepy, mother,’ Danae objected.

‘The sooner you find your cat, the sooner you can get to bed. Let’s catch her before she gets out of the castle this time. Go with her, Mirtai. After you two find the cat, put Danae to bed and then see if you can locate either Stragen or Caalador. One of them’s supposed to bring me a report on what’s going on at the Cynesgan embassy tonight, and I’d like to get it out of the way before I go to bed. I don’t want them banging on my door in the middle of the night.’

Mirtai nodded. ‘Come along, Danae,’ she said.

The princess sighed. She climbed out of her chair, kissed her mother, and followed the golden giantess out of the room. Alcan began to brush the queen’s hair. Ehlana loved to have her hair brushed. There was a kind of sleepy, sensual delight in it that relaxed her tremendously. She was quite vain about her hair. It was thick and heavy and lustrously blonde. Its pale color was astounding to the dark-haired Tamuls, and she knew that all eyes would be on her any time she entered a room. The three of them talked, the drowsy, intimate talk of ladies preparing for bed.

Then there was a polite tapping at the door. ‘Oh, bother,’ Ehlana said. ‘See who that is, Melidere.’

‘Yes, your Majesty.’ The Baroness rose to her feet and crossed the bedroom to the door. She opened it and spoke for a moment with the people outside.

‘It’s four of the Peloi, your Majesty,’ she said. ‘They say they have word from the north.’

‘Bring them in, Melidere.’ Ehlana turned to face the door. The man who came through the door did not look all that much like a Peloi. The clothing, tight-fitting and mostly leather, was right, as was the saber at the man’s waist. His head was shaved, as were the heads of all Peloi men, but this fellow’s face was slightly tanned, whereas his scalp was as pale as the belly of a fish. Something was wrong here.

The man behind the first wore a carefully trimmed black beard. His face was very pale, and it looked somehow familiar. The last two also wore Peloi garb and had shaved their heads, but they were definitely not Peloi. The first was Elron, the juvenile Astellian poet, and the second pouchy-eyed and slightly tipsy, was Krager.

‘Ah,’ he said in his drink-slurred voice, ‘so good to see you again, your Majesty.’

‘How did you get in here, Krager?’ she demanded.

‘Nothing easier, Ehlana,’ he smirked. ‘You should have kept a few of Sparhawk’s knights here to stand watch. Church Knights are more observant than Tamul soldiers. We dressed as Peloi and shaved our heads, and no one gave us a second glance. Elron here covered his face with his cloak when the Baroness answered the door—just as a precaution—but otherwise it was almost too easy. You have met Elron before, haven’t you?’

‘I vaguely remember him, don’t you, Melidere?’

‘Why, yes, I believe so, your Majesty,’ the blonde girl replied. ‘Wasn’t he that literary incompetent we met back in Astel? The one with delusions of grandeur? I’d hardly call those atrocities he commits poetry, though.’

Elron’s face went suddenly white with outrage.

‘I’m not an expert in the area of poetry, ladies,’ Krager shrugged. ‘Elron tells me that he’s a poet, so I take him at his word. May I present Baron Parok?’ he indicated the first man who had entered the room.

Parok bowed floridly. His face was marked with the purplish broken veins of a heavy drinker, and his eyes were pouchy and dissipated-looking.

Ehlana ignored him. ‘You’re not going to get out of here alive, Krager. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I always get out alive, Ehlana,’ he smirked. ‘My preparations are always very thorough. Now I’d like to have you meet our leader. This is Scarpa.’ He gestured at the bearded man. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard of him, and he’s been absolutely dying to make your acquaintance.’

‘He doesn’t look all that dead to me—yet,’ she noted. ‘Why don’t you call the guards to remedy that, Melidere?’

Scarpa blocked the Baroness. ‘This bravado is quite out of place in a mere woman,’ he said to Ehlana coldly in a voice loaded with contempt. ‘You give yourself too many airs. All the genuflecting and “your Majesty”s seem to have gone to your head and made you forget that you’re still only a woman.’

‘I don’t think I need instruction in proper behavior from the bastard son of a whore!’ she retorted.

Scarpa’s face flickered a brief annoyance. ‘We’re wasting time here,’ he said. His voice was deep and rich, the voice of a performer, and his manner and gestures were studied. He had obviously spent a great deal of time in the public eye. ‘We have many leagues to cover before dawn.’

‘I’m not going anyplace,’ she declared.

‘You’ll go where I tell you to go,’ he said, ‘and I’ll teach you your place as we go along.’

‘What do you hope to gain from this?’ Melidere demanded.

‘Empire and victory.’ Scarpa shrugged. ‘We’re taking the Queen of Elenia hostage. Her husband is so stupid that he forgets that the world is full of women—one very much like another. He’s so foolishly attached to her that he’ll give us anything for her safe return.’

‘Are you such an idiot that you actually believe that my busband will trade Bhelliom for me?’ Ehlana said scornfully. ‘Sparhawk is Anakha, you fool, and he has Bhelliom in his fist. That makes him a God. He killed Azash, he’ll kill Cyrgon, and he’ll definitely kill you. Pray that he does it quickly, Scarpa. He has it in his power to make your dying last for a million years if he chooses.’

‘I do not pray, woman. Only weaklings put any faith in Gods.’