The idol seemed to recoil, and its eyes were suddenly filled with amazed shock. ‘Why hast thou brought this ignorant savage into my presence, Sephrenia?’ The voice was hollow, and it echoed throughout the temple and in Sparhawk’s mind as well. Sparhawk knew that the mind of Azash could obliterate him in the space between two heartbeats, but for some reason Azash seemed afraid to bring his power to bear upon the rash man who stood menacing the Sapphire Rose with drawn sword.

‘I do but obey my destiny, Azash,’ Sephrenia replied calmly. ‘I was born to bring Sparhawk to this place to face thee.’

‘But what of the Destiny of this Sparhawk? Dost thou know what he is destined to do?’ There was a kind of desperation in the voice of Azash.

‘No man or God knoweth that, Azash,’ she reminded him. ‘Sparhawk is Anakha, and all the Gods have known and feared that one day Anakha would come and would move through this world committed to ends which none may perceive. I am the servant of his Destiny, whatever it may be, and I have brought him here that he may bring those ends to fruition.’

The idol seemed to tense itself, and then an irresistible command lashed out, overpowering and insistent, and the command was not directed at Sparhawk.

Sephrenia gasped and seemed almost to wilt like a flower before the first blast of winter. Sparhawk could actually feel her resolve fading. She wavered as the force of the mind of Azash peeled away her defences.

He tensed his arm and raised his sword higher. If Sephrenia were to fall, they were lost, and he could not know if there would be time to deliver the last fatal stroke after her collapse. He drew the image of Ehlana’s face in his mind and gripped his sword-hilt even more tightly.

The sound was not audible to anyone else. He knew that. It was in his mind only; only he could hear it. It was the insistent, commanding sound of shepherd’s pipes, and there was a very strong overtone of irritation to it.

‘Aphrael!’ he called out in sudden relief.

A small firefly spark appeared in front of his face. ‘Well, finally!’ Flute’s voice snapped angrily. ‘What took you so long, Sparhawk? Don’t you know that you have to call me?’

‘No. I didn’t know that. Help Sephrenia.’

There was no touch, no movement, no sound, but Sephrenia straightened, brushing at her brow with lightly-touching fingers as the idol’s eyes burned and fixed themselves on that firefly spark.

‘My daughter,’ the voice of Azash said. ‘Wilt thou cast thy lot with these mortals?’

‘I am no daughter of thine, Azash.’ Flute’s voice was crisp. ‘I willed myself into existence, as did my brothers and sisters when thou and thy kindred did tear at the fabric of reality with thy childish contention. I am thy daughter only through thy fault. Hadst thou and thy kindred turned ye aside from that reckless course which would have destroyed all, there would have been no need for me and mine.’

‘I will have Bhelliom!’ The hollow voice was the thunder and the earthquake, tearing at the very foundations of the earth.

‘Thou shalt not!’ Flute’s voice was flatly contradictory. ‘It was to deny thee and thy kind possession of Bhelliom that I and my kind came into existence. Bhelliom is not of this place, and it must not be held here in bondage to thee or to me or to the Troll-Gods or any other Gods of this world.’

‘I will have it!’ The voice of Azash rose to a scream.

‘No. Anakha will destroy it first, and in its destruction shalt thou perish.’

The idol seemed to flinch. ‘How darest thou!’ it gasped. ‘How darest thou even speak such horror? In the death of one of us lieth the seeds of the deaths of us all.’

‘So be it then.’ Aphrael’s tone was indifferent. Then her light little voice took on a cruel note. ‘Direct thy fury at me, Azash, and not at my children, for it was I who used the power of the rings to emasculate thee and to confine thee forever in that idol of mud.’

‘It was thou?’ The terrible voice seemed stunned.

‘It was I. Thy power is so abated by thine emasculation that thou canst not escape thy confinement. Thou wilt not have Bhelliom, impotent Godling, and thus shalt thou be forever imprisoned. Thou shalt remain unmanned and confined until the farthest star burns down to ashes.’ She paused, and when she spoke again it was in the tone of one slowly twisting a knife buried in the body of another. ‘It was thine absurd and transparent proposal that all the Gods of Styricum unite to seize Bhelliom from the Troll-Gods – “for the good of all” – that gave me the opportunity to mutilate and confine thee, Azash. Thou hast none to blame but thyself for what hath befallen thee. And now Anakha hath brought Bhelliom and the rings – and even the Troll-Gods locked within the jewel – here to confront thee. I call upon thee to submit to the power of the Sapphire Rose – or to perish.’

There was a howl of inhuman frustration, but the idol made no move.

Otha, however, his eyes filled with panic, began to mutter a desperate spell. Then he hurled it forth, and the hideous statues encircling the interior of the vast temple began to shimmer, changing from marble-white to greens and blues and bloody reds, and the babble of their inhuman voices filled the dome. Sephrenia spoke two words in Styric, her voice calm. She gestured, and the statues froze again, congealing back into pallid marble.

Otha howled, and began to speak again, so frustrated and enraged that he did not even speak in Styric, but in his native Elene.

‘Listen to me, Sparhawk,’ Flute’s musical voice was very soft.

‘But Otha –’

‘He’s only babbling. My sister can deal with him. Pay attention. The time will come very soon when you’ll have to act. I’ll tell you when. Climb these stairs to the idol and keep your sword poised over Bhelliom. If Azash or Otha or anything else tries to keep you from reaching the idol, smash the Bhelliom. If all goes well and you reach the idol, touch Bhelliom to that place that looks burned and scarred.’

‘Will that destroy Azash?’

‘Of course not. The idol that’s sitting there is only an encasement. The real idol is inside that big one. Bhelliom will shatter the big idol, and you’ll be able to see Azash Himself. The real idol is quite small, and it’s made of dried mud. As soon as you can see it, drop your sword and hold Bhelliom in both hands. Then use these exact words, “Blue-Rose, I am Sparhawk-from-Elenia. By the power of these rings I command Blue-Rose to return this image to the earth from which it came.” Then touch Bhelliom to the idol.’