‘Her thinking is faulty, Prince Sparhawk.’
‘I wouldn’t tell her that, if I were you. She might take it as criticism.’
Zalasta smiled. ‘She knows me, so she’s not upset when I criticise her. If, as you say, the Bhelliom’s one of those energies that’s involved in the constructing of the universe, it must be allowed to continue its work. The universe will be flawed if it is not.’
‘She said that this world won’t last forever,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘In time, it’ll be destroyed, and Bhelliom will be freed. The mind sort of shudders away from the notion, but I gather that the space of time stretching from the moment Bhelliom was trapped on this world until the moment the world burns away when our sun explodes is no more than the blinking of an eye to the spirit which inhabits it.’
‘I sort of choke on the notions of eternity and infinity myself, Prince Sparhawk,’ Zalasta admitted.
‘I think we’ll have to accept the notion that Bhelliom’s lost for good, learned one,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘We’re at a disadvantage, certainly, but I don’t see any help for it. We’re going to have to deal with this situation ourselves, I’m afraid.’
Zalasta sighed. ‘You may be right, Prince Sparhawk, but we really need the Bhelliom. Our success or failure may hinge on that stone. I think we should concentrate our efforts on Sephrenia. We must persuade her to intercede with Aphrael. She has an enormous influence on her sister.’
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘I’ve noticed that. What were they like as children?’
Zalasta looked up into the gathering darkness. ‘Our village changed a great deal when Aphrael was born,’ he reminisced. ‘We knew at once that she was no ordinary child. The Younger Gods are all very fond of her. Of all of them, she is the only child, and they’ve spoiled her outrageously over the aeons.’ He smiled faintly. ‘She’s perfected the art of being a child. All children are lovable, but Aphrael is so skilled at making people love her that she can melt the hardest of hearts. The Gods always get what they want, but Aphrael makes us do what she wants out of love.’
‘I’ve noticed that,’ Sparhawk said wryly.
‘Sephrenia was about nine when her sister was born, and from the moment she first saw the Child-Goddess, she committed her entire life to her service.’ There was a strange note of pain in the magician’s voice as he said it. ‘Aphrael seemed to have almost no infancy,’ he continued. ‘She was born with the ability to speak – or so it seemed – and she was walking in an incredibly short period of time. It was not convenient for her to go through a normal babyhood, so she simply stepped over such things as teething and learning to crawl. She wanted to be a child, not a baby. I was several years older than Sephrenia and already deep into my studies, but I did observe them rather closely. It’s not often that one has the opportunity to watch a God grow up.’
‘Very rare,’ Sparhawk agreed.
Zalasta smiled. ‘Sephrenia spent every moment with her sister. It was obvious from the very beginning that there was a special bond between them. It’s one of Aphrael’s peculiarities that she adopts the subservient position of a young child. She’s a Goddess, and she could command, but she doesn’t. She almost seems to enjoy being scolded. She’s obedient – when it suits her to be – but every so often she’ll do something outrageously impossible – probably just to remind people who she really is.’
Sparhawk remembered the swarm of fairies pollinating the flowers in the palace garden in Cimmura.
‘Sephrenia was a sensible child who always acted older than her years. I suspect Aphrael of preparing her sister for a lifelong task even before she herself was born. In a very real sense, Sephrenia became Aphrael’s mother. She cared for her, fed her, bathed her – although that occasioned some truly stupendous arguments. Aphrael absolutely hates to be bathed – and she really doesn’t need it, since she can make dirt go away whenever she wants to. I don’t know if you noticed it, but her feet always have grass-stains on them, even when she’s in a place where there is no grass. For some reason I can’t begin to fathom, she seems to need those stains.’ The Styric sighed. ‘When Aphrael was about six or so, Sephrenia was obliged to become her mother in fact. The three of us were off in the forest, and while we were gone, a mob of drunken Elene peasants attacked our village and killed everyone there.’
Sparhawk drew in his breath sharply. ‘That explains a few things,’ he said. ‘Of course it raises other things even more incomprehensible. After a tragedy like that, what could ever have persuaded Sephrenia to take on the chore of training generations of Pandion Knights?’
‘Aphrael probably told her to,’ Zalasta shrugged. ‘Don’t make any mistakes, Prince Sparhawk. Aphrael may pretend to be a child, but in truth she is not. She will obey when it suits her, but never forget that she is the one who makes the ultimate decisions, and she always gets what she wants.’
‘What happened after your village was destroyed?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘We wandered for a time in the forest, and then another Styric village took us in. As soon as I was sure that the girls were settled in and safe, I left to pursue my studies. I didn’t see them again for many years, and when I finally met them again, Sephrenia was the beautiful woman she is now. Aphrael, however, was still a child, not a day older than she had been when I left them.’ He sighed again. ‘The time we spent together when we were children was the happiest of my life. The memory of that time strengthens and sustains me when I am troubled.’
He looked up toward the sky where the first stars were beginning to come out. ‘Please make my excuses, Prince Sparhawk. I think I’d like to be alone with my memories tonight.’
‘I will, Zalasta,’ Sparhawk replied, laying a friendly hand on the Styric’s shoulder.
‘We’re fond of him,’ Danae said.
‘Why are you keeping your identity a secret from him then?’
‘I’m not sure, father. Maybe it’s just because girls need secrets.’
‘That doesn’t make sense, you know.’
‘Yes, but I don’t have to make sense. That’s the nice thing about being universally adored.’
‘Zalasta thinks we’re going to need the Bhelliom.’ Sparhawk decided to get right to the point.
‘No.’ Aphrael said it very firmly. ‘I spent too much time and effort getting it into a safe place to turn around and drag it out every time there’s a change in the weather. Zalasta always wants to unleash more power than is really necessary in situations like this. If all we’re facing is the Troll-Gods, we can manage without Bhelliom.’ She held up one hand when he started to object. ‘My decision, Sparhawk,’ she told him.
‘I could always spank you and make you change your mind,’ he threatened.
‘Not unless I let you, you can’t.’ Then she sighed. ‘The Troll-Gods aren’t going to be a problem for much longer.’
‘Oh?’
‘The Trolls are doomed,’ she said rather sadly, ‘and once they’re gone their Gods will be powerless.’ ‘Why are the Trolls doomed?’
‘Because they can’t change, Sparhawk. We may not always like it, but that’s the way the world is. The creatures of this world must change – or die. That’s what happened to the Dawn-men. The Trolls