You might as well, Sarafawn, Itagne told him. Your wifes brother isnt dictating official history any more. From now on, the Emperor wants us to give our students the plain, unvarnished truth. Ill be publishing a factual account in the next month or so. Youd better reserve a copy, Sarafawn, because youre going to be required to teach it to all your students in the futureassuming that you have a future at this institution. Next years budgets going to be a little tight, I understand, so a number of departments will probably have to be dropped. He paused. Are you any good with tools, Sarafawn? Theres a very nice little vocational school at Jura, I hear. Youd just love Daconia.
The Dean cleared his throat again, a bit more urgently this time.
Sorry, Dean Altus, Itagne apologized. Im running past time, gentlemen, so Ill just briefly sum up one more development. Despite their crushing defeat, Cyrgon and Zalasta were by no means powerless. In a bold stroke, Zalastas natural son, one Scarpa, crept into the imperial compound and abducted Queen Ehlana, leaving behind a demand that Sparhawk give up the Bhelliom in exchange for the safe return of his wife.
Following the recess Dean Aldus has been so patiently awaiting, I will take up Prince Sparhawks reaction to this new development.
Part One Berit
1
A chill haze was rising from the meadow, and thin clouds had drifted in from the west to obscure the cold, brittle sky. There were no shadows, and the frozen ground was iron-hard and unyielding. Winter was inexorably tightening its grip on the North Cape. Sparhawks army, girt in steel and leather and thousands strong, was lined up along a broad front in the frost-covered grass of the meadow near the ruins of Tzada. Sir Berit sat his horse in the center of the bulky, armored Church Knights watching the ghastly feast taking place a few hundred yards to the front. Berit was a young and idealistic knight, and he was having some difficulty with the behavior of their new allies.
The screams were remote, mere rumors of agony, and those who were screaming were not actually peoplenot really. They were no more than shades, the scarce-remembered reflections of long-dead men. Besides, they were enemiesmembers of a cruel and savage race that worshipped an unspeakable God.
But they steamed. That was the part of the horror Sir Berit could not shrug off. Though he told himself that these Cyrgai were deadphantoms raised by Cyrgons magicthe fact that steam rose from their eviscerated bodies as the ravening Trolls fed on them brought all of Berits defenses crashing down around his ears.
Trouble? Sparhawk asked sympathetically. Sparhawks black armor was frost-touched, and his battered face was bleak.
Berit felt a sudden embarrassment. Its nothing, Sir Sparhawk, he lied quickly. Its just He groped for a word.
I know. Im stumbling over that part myself. The Trolls arent being deliberately cruel, you know. To them were just food. Theyre only following their nature.
Thats part of the problem, Sparhawk. The notion of being eaten makes my blood run cold.
Would it help if I said, better them than us?
Not very much. Berit laughed weakly. Maybe Im not cut out for this kind of work. Everybody else seems to be taking it in stride.
Nobodys taking it in stride, Berit. We all feel the same way about whats happening. Try to hold on. Weve met these armies out of the past before. As soon as the Trolls kill the Cyrgai generals, the rest should vanish, and thatll put an end to it. Sparhawk frowned. Lets go find Ulath, he suggested. I just thought of something, and I want to ask him about it.
All right, Berit agreed quickly. The two black-armored Pandions turned their horses and rode through the frosty grass along the front of the massed army.
They found Ulath, Tynian and Bevier a hundred yards or so down the line. Ive got a question for you, Ulath, Sparhawk said as he reined Faran in.
For me? Oh, Sparhawk, you shouldnt have! Ulath removed his conical helmet and absently polished the glossy black Ogre-horns on the sleeve of his green surcoat. Whats the problem?
Every time weve come up against these antiques before, the dead all shriveled up after we killed the leaders. How are the Trolls going to react to that?
How should I know?
Youre supposed to be the expert on Trolls.
Be reasonable, Sparhawk. Its never happened before. Nobody can predict whats going to happen in a totally new situation.
Make a guess, Sparhawk snapped irritably.
The two of them glared at each other.
Why badger Ulath about it, Sparhawk? Bevier suggested gently. Why not just warn the Troll-Gods that its going to happen and let them deal with the problem?
Sparhawk rubbed reflectively at the side of his face, his hand making a kind of sandy sound on his unshaven cheek. Sorry, Ulath, he apologized. The noise from the banquet hall out theres distracting me.
I know just how you feel, Ulath replied wryly. Im glad you brought it up, though. The Trolls wont be satisfied with dried rations when theres all this fresh meat no more than a quarter mile away. He put his Ogre-horned helmet back on. The Troll Gods will honor their commitment to Aphrael, but I think wed better warn them about this. I definitely want them to have a firm grip on their Trolls when supper turns stale. Id hate to end up being the dessert course.