The Hidden City

begins to deteriorate. A man can die from pain. Don’t force me to prove that to you.’ And he turned his back on his pale-faced, sweating son.
    ‘My apologies, your Majesty,’ he said to Ehlana. ‘This was not what I intended.’
    ‘And what did you intend, Zalasta?’ she asked coldly.
    ‘The dispute is between your husband and myself, Ehlana. It was never in my mind to cause you such discomfort. This cretin I must unfortunately acknowledge took it upon himself to mistreat you. I promise you that he will not live to see the sunset of the day in which he does it again.’
    ‘I see. The humiliation and pain were not your idea, but the captivity was. Where’s the difference, Zalasta?’
    He sighed and passed a weary hand over his eyes. ‘It is necessary,’ he told her.
    ‘For what reason? Sephrenia will never submit to you, you know. Even if Bhelliom and the rings fall into your hands, you cannot compel her love.’
    ‘There are other considerations as well, Queen Ehlana,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘Please bring your maid and come with me. I’ll see you to your quarters.’
    ‘Some dungeon, I suppose.’
    He sighed. ‘No, Ehlana, the quarters are clean and comfortable. I’ve seen to that myself. Your ordeal is at an end, I promise you.’
    ‘My ordeal, as you call it, will not be at an end until I’m united with my husband and my daughter.’
    ‘That, we may pray, will be very soon. It is, however, in the hands of Prince Sparhawk. All he must do is follow instructions. Your quarters are not far. Follow me, please.’ He led them to a nearby building and unlocked the door.
    Their prison was very nearly luxurious, an apartment of sorts, complete with several bedrooms, a dining hall, a large sitting-room and even a kitchen. The building had evidently been the palace of some nobleman and, although the upper stories had since collapsed, the ground-floor rooms, their ceilings supported by great arches, were still intact. The furnishings in the rooms were ornate, though mis-matched, and there were rugs on the floors and drapes to cover the windows—windows, Ehlana noticed, which had recently been fitted with stout iron bars.
    The fireplaces were cavernous, and they were all filled with blazing logs, not so much to ward off the minimal chill of the Arjuni winter but to dry out rooms saturated with over a millennium of dank humidity. There were beds and fresh linen and clothing of an Arjuni cut, but most important of all, there was a fair-sized room with a large marble bathtub set into the floor. Ehlana’s eyes fixed longingly on that ultimate luxury. It so completely seized her attention that she scarcely heard Zalasta’s apologies. After a few vague replies from her, the Styric realized that his continued presence was no longer appreciated, so he politely excused himself and left.
    ‘Alcan, dear,’ Ehlana said in an almost dreamy voice, ‘that’s quite a large tub—certainly large enough for the two of us, wouldn’t you say?’
    Alcan was also gazing at the tub with undisguised longing.
    ‘Easily, your Majesty,’ she replied.
    ‘How long do you think it might take us to heat enough water to fill it?’
    ‘There are plenty of large pots and kettles in that kitchen, my Queen,’ the gentle girl said, ‘and all the fireplaces are going. It shouldn’t take very long at all.’
    ‘Wonderful,’ Ehlana said enthusiastically. ‘Why don’t we get started?’
    ‘Just exactly who is this Klael, Zalasta?’ Ehlana asked the Styric several days later when he came by to call. Zalasta came to their prison often, as if his visits in some way lessened his guilt, and he always talked, long, rambling, sometimes disconnected talk that often revealed far more than he probably intended for her to know.
    ‘Klael is an eternal being,’ he replied. Ehlana noted almost absently that the heavily accented Elenic which had so irritated her when they had first met in Sarsos was gone now. Another of his ruses, she concluded. ‘Klael is far more eternal than the Gods of this world,’ he continued. ‘He’s in some way connected to Bhelliom. They’re contending principles, or something along those lines. I was a bit distraught when Cyrgon explained the relationship, so I didn’t fully understand.’
    ‘Yes, I can imagine,’ she murmured. Her relationship with Zalasta was peculiar. The circumstances made ranting and denunciation largely a waste of time, so Ehlana was civil to him. He appeared to be grateful for