‘Oh, no, Sparhawk,’ Vanion told him. The council’s very important. Styricum’s a Theocracy, and the council’s composed of the high priests – and priestesses – of the Younger Gods.’
‘Being Aphrael’s priestess isn’t really a very taxing position,’ Sephrenia smiled, looking fondly at the Child Goddess. ‘She’s not particularly interested in asserting herself, since she usually gets what she wants in other ways. I get certain advantages – like this house – but I have to sit in on the meetings of the Thousand, and that can be tedious sometimes.’
‘The Thousand?’
‘It’s another name for the Council.’
‘There are a thousand Younger Gods?’ Sparhawk was a bit surprised at that.
‘Well, of course there are, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him. ‘Everybody knows that.’
‘Why a thousand?’
‘It’s a nice number with a nice sound to it. In Styric it’s Ageraluon.’
‘I’m not familiar with the word.’
‘It means ten times ten times ten – sort of. We had quite an argument with one of my cousins about it. He had a pet crocodile, and it had bitten off one of his fingers. He always had trouble counting after that. He wanted us to be Ageralican – nine times nine times nine, but we explained to him that there were already more of us than that, and that if we wanted to be Ageralican, some of us would have to be obliterated. We asked him if he’d care to volunteer to be one of them, and he dropped the idea.’
‘Why would anyone want to have a pet crocodile?’
‘It’s one of the things we do. We like to make pets of animals you humans can’t control. Crocodiles aren’t so bad. At least you don’t have to feed them.’
‘No, but you have to count the children every morning. Now I understand why the question of whales keeps coming up.’
‘You’re really very stubborn about that, Sparhawk. I could really impress my family if I had a whale.’
‘I think we’re getting a little far afield,’ Vanion said. ‘Sephrenia tells me you’ve got some fairly exotic suspicions.’
‘I’ve been trying to explain something I can’t completely see yet, Vanion. It’s like trying to describe a horse when all you’ve to work with is his tail. I’ve got a lot of bits and pieces and not too much more. I’m positive that everything that we’ve seen so far – and probably a lot of things we haven’t – are all hooked together, and that there’s one intelligence guiding it all. I think it’s a God, Vanion – or Gods.’
‘Are you sure your encounter with Azash didn’t make you start seeing hostile divinities under beds and in dark closets?’
‘I have it on the very best authority that only a God could raise an entire army out of the past. The authority who told me was quite smug about it.’
‘Be nice, father,’ Danae said primly. ‘It’s too complex, Vanion,’ she explained. ‘When you raise an army, you have to raise each individual soldier, and you have to know everything about him when you do that. It’s the details that defeat human magicians when they try it.’
‘Any ideas?’ Vanion asked his friend.
‘Several,’ Sparhawk grunted, ‘and none of them very pleasant. Do you remember that shadow I told you about? The one that was following me all over Eosia after I killed Ghwerig?’
Vanion nodded.
‘We’ve been seeing it again, and this time everybody can see it.’
‘That doesn’t sound too good.’
‘No, it doesn’t. Last time, that shadow was the Troll-Gods.’
Vanion shuddered, and then the both of them looked at Sephrenia.
‘Isn’t it nice to be needed?’ Danae said to her sister.
‘I’ll talk with Zalasta,’ Sephrenia sighed. ‘He’s been keeping abreast of things here in Sarsos for the emperor. He probably knows a great deal about this, so I’ll have him stop by tomorrow.’
There was a loud splash.
i told you that was going to happen, Mmrr,’ Danae said smugly to the wild-eyed kitten struggling to stay afloat in the fountain. Mmrr’s problems were multiplied by the fact that the goldfish were ferociously defending their domain by bumping her paws and tummy with their noses.
‘Fish her out, Danae,’ Sparhawk told her.
‘She’ll get me all wet, father, and then mother will scold me. Mmrr got herself into that fix. Now let her get herself out.’
‘She’ll drown.’
‘Oh, of course she won’t, Sparhawk. She knows how to swim. Look at her. She’s cat-paddling for all she’s worth.’
‘She’s what?’
‘Cat-paddling. You couldn’t really call it dog-paddling, could you? She’s not a dog, after all. We Styrics talk about cat-paddling all the time, don’t we, Sephrenia?’
‘I never have,’ Sephrenia murmured.
A large part of the fun came from the fact that her parents could not anticipate the Princess Danae’s early-morning visits. They were certainly not a daily occurrence, and there were times when a whole week would go by without one. This morning’s visit was, of course, the same as all the rest. Consistency is one of the more important divine attributes. The door banged open, and the princess, her black hair flying and her eyes filled with glee, dashed into the room and joined her parents in bed with a great, whooping leap. The leap was followed, as always, by a great deal of squirming and burrowing until Danae was firmly nestled between her parents.
She never paid these visits alone. Rollo had never really been a problem. Rollo was a well-mannered toy, anxious to please and almost never intrusive. Mmrr, on the other hand, could be a pest. She was quite fond of Sparhawk and she was a genius at burrowing. Having a sharp-clawed kitten climb up the side of one’s bare leg before one is fully awake is a startling experience. Sparhawk gritted his teeth and endured.
‘The birds are awake.’ Danae announced it almost accusingly.
‘I’m so happy for them,’ Sparhawk said, wincing as the kitten lurking beneath the covers began to rhythmically flex her claws in his hip.
‘You’re grumpy this morning, father.’
‘I was doing just fine until now. Please ask your cat not to use me for a pin-cushion.’
‘She does it because she loves you.’
‘That fills my heart. I’d still rather have her keep her claws to herself, though.’
‘Is he always like this in the morning, mother?’
‘Sometimes,’ Ehlana laughed, embracing the little girl. ‘I think it depends on what he had for supper.’
Mmrr began to purr. Adult cats purr with a certain decorous moderation. Kittens don’t. On this particular morning, Danae’s small cat sounded much like an approaching thunderstorm or a grist-mill with an off-centre wheel.
‘I give up,’ Sparhawk said. He threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe. ‘There’s no sleeping with the three of you around,’ he accused them. ‘Coming, Rollo?’
His wife and daughter gave him a quick, startled glance then exchanged a worried look. Sparhawk scooped up Danae’s stuffed toy and ambled out of the room,