all.
And still they talked on and on and on. Why were they wasting all their breath? There wasn’t any choice in the matter. Sparhawk would obey the instructions because Ehlana’s life depended on it. The others were certain to argue with him about it, and the arguments would only irritate him. The best thing would probably be just to take the Bhelliom and Khalad and slip out of Matherion without giving them the chance to drive him mad with their meaningless babble.
It was the touch of a springlike breeze on his cheek and a soft nuzzling on his hand that roused him from his gloomy reverie.
‘It was not mine intent to disturb thy thought, Sir Knight,’ the white deer apologized, ‘but my mistress would have words with thee.’
Sparhawk jerked his head round in astonishment. He no longer sat in the blue-draped room in Matherion, and the voices of the others had faded away to be replaced by the sound of the gentle lapping of waves upon a golden strand. His chair now sat on the marble floor of Aphrael’s temple on the small verdant island that rose gem-like from the sea. The breeze was soft under the rainbow-colored sky, and the ancient oaks around the alabaster temple rustled softly.
‘Thou hast forgotten me,’ the gentle white hind reproached him, her liquid eyes touched with sorrow.
‘Never,’ he replied. ‘I shall remember thee always, dear creature, for I do love thee, even as I did when first we met.’ The extravagant expression came to his lips unbidden.
The white deer sighed happily and laid her snowy head in his lap. He stroked her arched white neck and looked around.
The Child Goddess Aphrael, gowned in white and surrounded by a glowing nimbus, sat calmly on a branch of one of the nearby oaks. She lifted her many-chambered pipes and blew an almost mocking little trill.
‘What are you up to now, Aphrael?’ he called up to her, deliberately forcing away the flowery words that jumped to his lips.
‘I thought you might want to talk,’ she replied, lowering the pipes. ‘Did you want some more time for self-mortification? Would you like a whip so that you can flog yourself with it? Take as much time as you want, Father. This particular instant will last for as long as I want it to.’ She reached out with one grass-stained little foot, placed it on nothing at all and calmly walked down a non-existent stairway to the alabaster floor of her temple. She sank down on it, crossed her feet at the ankles and lifted her pipes again. ‘Will it disturb your sour musings if I play?’
‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
She shrugged. ‘You seem to have this obscure need for penance of some kind, and there’s no time for it. I wouldn’t be much of a Goddess if I couldn’t satisfy both needs at the same time, now would I?’ She raised her pipes. ‘Do you have any favorites you’d like to hear?’
‘You’re actually serious, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She breathed another little trill into the pipes.
He glared at her for a moment, and then he gave up. ‘Can we talk about this?’ he asked her.
‘You’ve come to your senses? Already? Amazing.’
He looked around at the island. ‘Where is this place?’ he asked curiously.
The Child Goddess shrugged. ‘Wherever I want it to be. I carry it with me everyplace I go. Were you serious about what you were just thinking, Sparhawk? Were you really going to snatch up Bhelliom, grab Khalad by the scruff of the neck, leap onto Faran’s back and try to ride off in three directions at the same time?’
‘All Vanion and the others are doing is talking, Aphrael, and the talk isn’t going anywhere.’
‘Did you speak with Bhelliom about this notion of yours?’
‘The decision is mine, Aphrael. Ehlana’s my wife.’
‘How brave you are, Sparhawk. You’re making a decision that involves the Bhelliom without even consulting it. Don’t be misled by its seeming politeness, Father. That’s just a reflection of its archaic
And still they talked on and on and on. Why were they wasting all their breath? There wasn’t any choice in the matter. Sparhawk would obey the instructions because Ehlana’s life depended on it. The others were certain to argue with him about it, and the arguments would only irritate him. The best thing would probably be just to take the Bhelliom and Khalad and slip out of Matherion without giving them the chance to drive him mad with their meaningless babble.
It was the touch of a springlike breeze on his cheek and a soft nuzzling on his hand that roused him from his gloomy reverie.
‘It was not mine intent to disturb thy thought, Sir Knight,’ the white deer apologized, ‘but my mistress would have words with thee.’
Sparhawk jerked his head round in astonishment. He no longer sat in the blue-draped room in Matherion, and the voices of the others had faded away to be replaced by the sound of the gentle lapping of waves upon a golden strand. His chair now sat on the marble floor of Aphrael’s temple on the small verdant island that rose gem-like from the sea. The breeze was soft under the rainbow-colored sky, and the ancient oaks around the alabaster temple rustled softly.
‘Thou hast forgotten me,’ the gentle white hind reproached him, her liquid eyes touched with sorrow.
‘Never,’ he replied. ‘I shall remember thee always, dear creature, for I do love thee, even as I did when first we met.’ The extravagant expression came to his lips unbidden.
The white deer sighed happily and laid her snowy head in his lap. He stroked her arched white neck and looked around.
The Child Goddess Aphrael, gowned in white and surrounded by a glowing nimbus, sat calmly on a branch of one of the nearby oaks. She lifted her many-chambered pipes and blew an almost mocking little trill.
‘What are you up to now, Aphrael?’ he called up to her, deliberately forcing away the flowery words that jumped to his lips.
‘I thought you might want to talk,’ she replied, lowering the pipes. ‘Did you want some more time for self-mortification? Would you like a whip so that you can flog yourself with it? Take as much time as you want, Father. This particular instant will last for as long as I want it to.’ She reached out with one grass-stained little foot, placed it on nothing at all and calmly walked down a non-existent stairway to the alabaster floor of her temple. She sank down on it, crossed her feet at the ankles and lifted her pipes again. ‘Will it disturb your sour musings if I play?’
‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
She shrugged. ‘You seem to have this obscure need for penance of some kind, and there’s no time for it. I wouldn’t be much of a Goddess if I couldn’t satisfy both needs at the same time, now would I?’ She raised her pipes. ‘Do you have any favorites you’d like to hear?’
‘You’re actually serious, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She breathed another little trill into the pipes.
He glared at her for a moment, and then he gave up. ‘Can we talk about this?’ he asked her.
‘You’ve come to your senses? Already? Amazing.’
He looked around at the island. ‘Where is this place?’ he asked curiously.
The Child Goddess shrugged. ‘Wherever I want it to be. I carry it with me everyplace I go. Were you serious about what you were just thinking, Sparhawk? Were you really going to snatch up Bhelliom, grab Khalad by the scruff of the neck, leap onto Faran’s back and try to ride off in three directions at the same time?’
‘All Vanion and the others are doing is talking, Aphrael, and the talk isn’t going anywhere.’
‘Did you speak with Bhelliom about this notion of yours?’
‘The decision is mine, Aphrael. Ehlana’s my wife.’
‘How brave you are, Sparhawk. You’re making a decision that involves the Bhelliom without even consulting it. Don’t be misled by its seeming politeness, Father. That’s just a reflection of its archaic
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