‘Which one?’

‘Use your own. It knows you better than Ehlana’s does. Are you sure you don’t feel some sort of…?’

‘Some sort of what?’

‘Aren’t your hands aching to touch it?’

‘It’s not unbearable.’

‘Now I see why all the others in my family are so afraid of you. You aren’t anything at all like other humans.’

‘Everybody’s different in some ways, I suppose. What do we do now?’

‘We can go back to the ship.’

‘Can you get in touch with the sailors?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why don’t you ask them to sail across the gulf and pick us up somewhere on this side? That way we won’t have to ride all the way back to Jorsan again, and we’ll be able to avoid any chance meetings with Rebal’s enthusiasts. Some of them might be sober enough by now to recognize the fact that we’re not Edomishmen.’

‘You’re in a strange humor, Sparhawk.’

‘I’m a little discontented with you at the moment, to be honest about it.’

‘What did I do?’

‘Why don’t we just drop it?’

‘Don’t you love me any more?’ Her lower lip began to tremble.

‘Of course I do, but that doesn’t alter the fact that I’m put out with you just now. People we love do irritate us from time to time, you know.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a contrite little voice.

‘I’ll get over it. Are we finished here? Can we mount up and start back?’

‘In just a moment,’ she said, seeming suddenly to remember something. Her eyes narrowed and began to glint dangerously. ‘You!’ she said, leveling a finger at Talen. ‘Come here!’

Talen sighed and did as he was told.

‘What did you think you were doing?’ she demanded.

‘Well – I was afraid you’d fall.’

‘I wasn’t the one who was going to fall, you clot! Don’t you ever do anything like that again!’

Talen could have agreed with her. That would have been the simplest way, and it would have avoided an extended scolding. He did not, however. ‘No, Flute. I’m afraid it’s not going to be that way. I’ll jump in every time I think you’re in danger.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s not really my idea. I want to be sure you understand that I haven’t completely lost my mind. It’s just that I can’t help myself. When I see you do something like that, I’m moving before I even think. If you’re really serious about trying to keep me alive, don’t do things like that when I’m around, because I’ll try to stop you every single time – regardless of how stupid it is.’

‘Why?’ she asked him intently.

‘I guess it’s because I love you.’ He shrugged.

She squealed with delight and swarmed up into his arms. ‘He’s such a nice boy!’ she exclaimed, covering his face with kisses.

They had gone no more than a mile when Kalten reined in sharply, filling the air with sulphurous curses.

‘Kalten!’ Vanion snapped. ‘There are ladies present!’

‘Take a look behind us, my Lord,’ the blond Pandion said.

It was the cloud, inky black, ominous, and creeping along the ground like viscous slime.

Vanion swore and reached for his sword.

‘That won’t do any good, my Lord,’ Sparhawk told him. He reached inside his tunic and took out the gleaming box. ‘This might, though.’ He rapped the band of his ring against the box-lid.

Nothing happened.

‘You have to tell it to open, Sparhawk,’ Flute instructed.

‘Open!’ Sparhawk commanded, touching the ring to the box again.

The lid popped up, and Sparhawk saw the Bhelliom nestled inside. The Sapphire Rose was perfect, eternal, and it glowed a deep blue. It seemed strangely resentful as Sparhawk reached in and lifted it out, however. ‘We all know who we are,’ he told the stone and its unwilling inhabitants. ‘I’m not going to speak to you in Trollish because I know you can understand me, no matter what language I use. I want you to stop this nonsense with that cloud, and I want you to do it right now! When I turn round to look, your little patch of private darkness had better be gone. I don’t care how you do it, but get rid of that cloud!’

The Sapphire Rose grew suddenly hot in his hand, and it seemed almost to writhe against his fingers. Flickers of red, green, orange and purple, all interspersed with streaks of white, stained the azure petals of Bhelliom as the Troll-Gods trapped within the gem fought to resist. Bhelliom, however, appeared to exert some kind of over-control, and those ugly flickers were smothered as the jewel began to burn more brightly.

Then there was a sudden, violent jolt which numbed Sparhawk’s arm to the shoulder.

‘That’s the way!’ Kalten shouted with a sudden laugh.

Sparhawk turned in his saddle and saw that the cloud was gone. ‘What happened?’

‘It sort of flopped around like a fresh-caught eel,’ Kalten laughed again, ‘and then it flew all to pieces. What did you do, Sparhawk? I couldn’t hear what you said.’

‘I let our blue friend and its tenants know that the cloud was starting to irritate me. Then I sort of hinted at the fact that I get ugly when I’m irritated.’

‘They must have believed you.’

Flute was staring at Sparhawk in open astonishment. ‘You broke all the rules!’ she accused him.

‘I do that sometimes. It’s quicker to cut across the formalities once in a while.’

‘You’re not supposed to do it that way.’

‘It worked, didn’t it?’

‘It’s a question of style, Sparhawk. I’m technically in charge here, and I don’t know what Bhelliom and the Troll-Gods are going to think of me after that.’

He laughed, and then gently put Bhelliom back into its box. ‘Nice job,’ he told it. They were going to have to work together, after all, and a little encouragement now and then never hurt. Then he firmly closed the lid. ‘It’s time for some speculation, gentlemen,’ he said to the others. ‘What can we make of this?’

‘They know where we are, for one thing,’ Talen offered.

‘It could be the rings again,’ Sephrenia noted. ‘That’s what happened last time. The cloud – and the shadow – were concentrating on Sparhawk and Ehlana right at first because they had the rings.’

‘Bhelliom’s closed up inside the box,’ Sparhawk said, ‘and so are the Troll-Gods.’

‘Are they still inside the jewel?’ Ulath asked him.

‘Oh, yes,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I could definitely feel them when I took Bhelliom out.’ He looked at Aphrael, phrasing his next question carefully. There were still some things that needed to be concealed. ‘I’ve heard that a God can be in more than one place at the same time.’ He left it a little tentative.

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Does that apply to the Troll-Gods as well?’

She struggled with it. ‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a fairly complicated business, and the Troll-Gods are quite limited.’

‘Does this box confine them in the same way that chain-mail pouch did back in Zemoch?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s different. When they’re encased in gold that way, they don’t know where they are.’

‘Does that make a difference?’

‘You have to know where you are before you can go someplace else.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ He made a face. ‘I think we may have blundered again,’ he said sourly.

‘How so?’ Bevier asked him.

‘We don’t really have any absolute proof that the Troll-Gods are in league with our enemy. If they’re trapped inside this box with Bhelliom and can’t get out, they couldn’t be, could they?’

‘That was Ghworg in the mountains of Atan,’ Ulath insisted. ‘That means that he’s out and about at least.’

‘Are you sure, Ulath? Those peasants around the bonfire were convinced that the big fellow in the ancient armor was Incetes too, you know.’

‘All the evidence points to it, Sparhawk. Everything we’ve seen this time is just like it was last time, and it was the Troll-Gods then, wasn’t it?’

‘I’m not even positive about that any more.’

‘Well, something had to have enough authority over the Trolls to make them migrate from Thalesia to the north coast of Atan.’

‘Just how smart do you have to be in order to be a Troll? I’m not saying that it was something as crude as the hoax Rebal foisted off on those peasants, but…’ Sparhawk left it hanging.

‘That would be a fairly complex hoax, dear one,’ Sephrenia murmured.

‘But not quite impossible, little mother. I’ll drop the whole line of thought if you’ll just tell me that what I’m suggesting is impossible.’

‘Don’t throw it away just yet,’ she said, her face troubled.

‘Aphrael,’ Sparhawk said, ‘will this gold box keep our friend out there from being able to locate Bhelliom?’

She nodded. ‘The gold shields it. He can’t hear it or feel it, so he can’t just move toward the sound or the sense of it.’

‘And if I put Ehlana’s ring in there as well? Would the box shield that too?’

‘Yes, but your own ring’s still out in the open where he can feel its location.’

‘One thing at a time.’ He touched his ring to the lid of the box. ‘Open,’ he said.

The latch clicked, and the lid raised slightly.

Sparhawk removed Ehlana’s ring from his finger and put it inside the box. ‘You look after it for a while,’ he told the Bhelliom.

‘Please don’t do that, Sparhawk,’ Vanion told him with a pained look.

‘Do what?’

‘Talk to it like that. You make it sound like a real being.’

‘Sorry, Vanion. It helps a little if I think of it that way. Bhelliom definitely has its own personality.’ He closed the lid and felt the latch click.

‘Ah – Flute?’ Khalad said a bit tentatively.

‘Yes?’

‘Is it the box that keeps Bhelliom hidden? Or is it the fact that the box is made out of gold?’

‘It’s the gold, Khalad. There’s something about gold that muffles Bhelliom and hides it.’

‘And it works on Queen Ehlana’s ring as well?’

She nodded. ‘I can’t hear or feel a thing.’ She stretched her open palm out toward the box Sparhawk was holding. ‘Nothing at all,’ she confirmed. ‘I can feel his ring, though.’

‘Put a golden glove on him,’ Kalten shrugged.

‘How much money did you bring along, Sir Kalten?’ Khalad asked. ‘Gold’s expensive, you know.’ He squinted at Sparhawk’s ring. ‘I don’t have to cover his whole hand,’ he said, ‘just the ring itself.’

‘I’ll have to be able to get at it in a hurry, Khalad,’ Sparhawk cautioned.

‘Let me work on it. Does anyone have a gold florin? That would be about the right size.’

They all opened their purses.

Kalten looked around hopefully, then sighed. He reached into his purse. ‘You owe me a gold florin, Sparhawk,’ he said, handing the coin to Khalad.

‘I’m in your debt, Kalten,’ Sparhawk smiled.

‘You certainly are – one gold florin’s worth. Shall we move on? It’s starting to get chilly out here.’

The wind had come up, gusty at first, but blowing steadily stronger. They followed the trail on down the slope until they were riding along the upper edge of a long, sandy beach with the wind screaming and tearing at them and the salt spray stinging their faces.

‘This is more than just a gale!’ Ulath shouted over the screaming wind. ‘I think we’ve got a hurricane brewing!’

‘Isn’t it too early for hurricanes?’ Kalten shouted.

‘It is in Eosia,’ Ulath shouted back.

The shrieking of the wind grew louder, and they rode with their cloaks pulled tightly about them.

‘We’d better get in out of this,’ Vanion yelled. ‘There’s a ruined farmstead just ahead.’ He squinted through the driving spray. ‘It’s got stone walls, so it should give us some kind of shelter from the wind.’

They pushed their horses into a gallop and reached the ruin in a few minutes. The moldering buildings were half buried in weeds, and the windows of the unroofed structures seemed to stare down from the walls like blind eyes. The house had completely tumbled in, so Sparhawk and the others dismounted in the yard and led their nervous horses into what had evidently been the barn. The floor was littered with the rotting remains of the roof, and there were bird-droppings in the corners.

‘How long does a hurricane usually last?’ Vanion asked.

‘A day or two,’ Ulath shrugged. Three at the most.’

‘I wouldn’t make any wagers on this one,’ Bevier said. ‘It came up just a little too quickly to suit me, and it’s forced us to take shelter. We’re pinned down in these ruins, you know.’

‘He’s right,’ Berit agreed. ‘Don’t we almost have to assume that somebody’s raised this storm to delay us?’

Kalten gave him a flat, unfriendly stare, a fair indication that he had not yet shaken off his suspicions about the young man and Queen Ehlana’s maid.

‘I don’t think it’s going to be much of a problem,’ Ulath said. ‘As soon as we get back on board that ship, we’ll be able to outrun the hurricane.’

Aphrael was shaking her head.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her.

‘That ship wasn’t built to ride out a hurricane. As a matter of fact, I’ve already sent it back to where it came from.’

‘Without even telling us?’ Vanion objected.

‘My decision, Vanion. The ship’s no good to us in this kind of weather, so there was no point in putting the crew in danger.’

‘It seemed well made to me,’ Ulath objected. ‘The builders must have taken high winds into account when they designed her.’

She shook her head. ‘The wind doesn’t blow where that ship came from.’

‘There are winds everywhere, Flute,’ he pointed out. ‘There’s no place on this entire world where the wind doesn’t blow now and…’ He broke off and stared at her. ‘Where does that ship come from?’