The Hidden City

in a voice filled with horror, ‘no more. No more!’ Then he sagged, covering his eyes with his hands.’
    Zalasta contemptuously let go of the front of his black robe, and he fell to the floor, weeping uncontrollably.
    ‘Now do you understand?’ Zalasta asked him, almost gently. ‘Cyzada and I tried to warn you and your petty godling about the dangers involved in summoning Klael, but you wouldn’t listen. Cyrgon wanted to enslave Bhelliom, and now he’s the slave of Bhelliom’s opposite. And, since I speak for Klael, I guess that makes you my slave.’ He prodded the weeping priest with one foot. ‘Get up, Ekatas! Get on your feet when your master speaks!’
    The grovelling priest scrambled to his feet, his tear-streaked face still filled with unspeakable horror.
    ‘Say it, Ekatas,’ Zalasta said in a cruel voice. ‘I want to hear you say it—or would you like to witness the death of another star?’
    ‘M-M-Master,’ the High Priest choked.
    ‘Again—a little louder, if you don’t mind.’
    ‘Master!’ It came out almost as a shriek.
    ‘Much better, Ekatas. Now wake up those lazy cretins in the guardroom and put them to work cleaning this cell. We have preparations to make when I come back from the temple. Anakha’s bringing Bhelliom to Cyrga, and we’ll want to be ready when he arrives.’ He turned. ‘Bring your maid, Ehlana. Klael wants to look at you.’ Zalasta paused, looking at her critically. ‘I know that we’ve treated you badly,’ he half-apologized, ‘but don’t let our bad manners break your spirit. Remember who you are and draw that about you. Klael respects power and those who wield it.’
    ‘What do I say to him?’
    ‘Nothing. He’ll find out what he wants to know just by looking at you. He doesn’t understand your husband, and looking at you will give him some hints about Anakha’s nature. Anakha’s the unknown element in this business. He always has been, I suppose. Klael understands Bhelliom. It’s Bhelliom’s creature who baffles him.’
    ‘You’ve changed, Zalasta.’
    ‘I suppose I have,’ he admitted. ‘I have a feeling that I won’t live much longer. Klael’s touch does peculiar things to people. We’d better not keep him waiting.’ He looked at Ekatas, who stood trembling violently. ‘I want this room clean when we come back.’
    ‘I’ll see to it, Master,’ Ekatas promised in a grotesquely servile tone.
    ‘How do you find them again?’ Itagne asked curiously. ‘What I’m trying to get at is that the Trolls are in this “No-Time”, but you and Tynian had to come out into real time in order to enter Sama, so time started moving for you. How do you get back to the moment where you left the Trolls?’
    ‘Please don’t ask metaphysical questions, Itagne,’ Ulath replied with a pained expression. ‘We just go back to the spot where we left the Trolls, and there they are. We deal with “where” and let the Troll-Gods deal with “when”. They seem to be able to jump around in time without paying much attention to the rules.’
    ‘Where are the Trolls right now?’
    ‘Just outside of town,’ Tynian replied. ‘We didn’t think it was a good idea to bring them into Sama with us. They’re starting to get a little out of hand.’
    ‘Is it something we should know about, Tynian-Knight?’ Engessa asked.
    Ulath leaned back in his chair. ‘Cyrgon disrupted Trollish behavior rather profoundly when he went to Thalesia and posed as Ghworg,’ he explained somberly. ‘Zalasta told him about the Trolls, but Cyrgon’s been a little out of touch, so he mistook the Trolls for the Dawn-Men. The Dawn-Men were herd-animals, but the Trolls run in packs. Herd-animals will accept any member of their species, but pack-animals are a little more selective. It’s to our advantage right now to have the Trolls behave like a herd. At least we can keep them all going in the same direction, but some problems are starting to crop up. The packs are beginning to separate, and there’s a great deal of snapping and snarling going on.’
    Tynian glanced at Queen Betuana, who, gowned all in black, was sitting somewhat apart from them. He motioned Engessa slightly to one side. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked very quietly.
    ‘Betuana-Queen is in ritual mourning,’ Engessa replied, also in half-whisper. ‘The loss of her husband has touched her very deeply.’
    ‘Were they really that close?’
    ‘It did not seem so,’ Engessa admitted. His eyes were