The Hidden City

suggested.
    ‘If he ever comes back. His note was a little vague. We can get things rolling, though. Let’s modify your story a bit. Push your make-believe fleet back to Valesia. Give Cyrgon some time to worry about it before we pinpoint Kaftal as the final destination. I’ll plant a couple of ambiguous hints about the Atans massing up near their northwestern frontier. We’ll let things stand that way until Sparhawk comes back.’
    Talen sighed.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘This is almost legal, isn’t it?’
    ‘I suppose you could say so, yes. Is there some problem with that?’
    ‘If it’s legal, why am I having so much fun?’
    ‘Nothing?’ Ulath asked, opening the neck of his red uniform jacket.
    ‘Not a peep,’ Tynian replied. ‘I cast the spell four times, and I still can’t raise her.’
    ‘Maybe she’s busy.’
    ‘It’s possible, I guess.’
    Ulath rubbed at his cheek reflectively. ‘I definitely think I’ll shave off Sir Gerda’s beard,’ he muttered. ‘You know, it could be that it’s because we’re in No-Time. When we did this the first time—back in Pelosia—none of our spells worked.’
    ‘I think this spell’s different, Ulath. I’m not really trying to do anything. I just want to talk with Aphrael.’
    ‘Yes, but you’re mixing magic. You’re trying to use a Styric spell when you’re up to your ears in a Trollish one.’
    ‘Maybe that’s it. I’ll try again when we get to Arjun and go back into real time.’
    Bhlokw came shambling back through the grey light of Ghnomb’s frozen moment, passing a flock of stationary birds hanging in the air. ‘There are some of the dens of the man-things in the next valley,’ he reported.
    ‘Many or few?’ Ulath asked him.
    ‘Many,’ Bhlokw replied. ‘Will the man-things have dogs there?’
    ‘There are always dogs near the dens of the man-things, Bhlokw.’
    ‘We should hurry then.’ The shaggy Troll paused. ‘What do the man-things call this place?’
    ‘It is the place Arjun—I think.’
    ‘That is the place where we want to go, is it not?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘The wicked ones have told the one called Berit to go there. It is our thought that we should go there in Ghnomb’s broken moment and listen to the bird-talk of the man-things. One of the man-things may say where the wicked ones will tell the one called Berit to go next. It may be that the next place will be the place where Anakha’s mate is. It would be good to know this.’
    Bhlokw’s shaggy brow furrowed as he struggled his way through that. ‘Are the hunts of the man-things always so not-simple?’ he asked.
    ‘It is the nature of our kind to be not-simple.’
    ‘Does it not make your head hurt?’
    Ulath smiled, being careful not to show his teeth. ‘Sometimes it does,’ he admitted.
    ‘It is my thought that a simple hunt is better than a not-simple hunt. The hunts of the man-things are so not-simple that sometimes I forget why I am hunting. Trolls hunt things-to-eat. The man-things hunt thought.’
    Ulath was a bit startled at the Troll’s perception. ‘It is my thought that your thought may be good,’ he admitted. ‘The man-things do hunt thought. We put much value on it.’
    ‘Thought is good, U-lat, but you can not eat it.’
    ‘We hunt thought after our bellies are full.’
    ‘That is how Trolls and the man-things are different, U-lat. I am a Troll. My belly is never full. Let us hurry. It is my thought that it will be good to know if the dogs of this place are as good-to-eat as the dogs of the other place.’ He paused. ‘I do not wish to cause you anger, U-lat, but it is my thought that the dogs of the man-things are more good-to-eat than the man-things themselves.’ He scratched at his cheek with one shaggy paw. ‘I would still eat a man-thing if my belly was empty, but I would like a dog better.’
    ‘Let us go find you a dog then.’
    ‘Your thought is good, U-lat.’ The huge beast reached out and affectionately patted Ulath on the head, nearly driving him to his knees.
    The Child Goddess touched her fingertips lightly to the sides of Engessa’s broken head, and her eyes became distant.
    ‘Well?’ Vanion asked, his tone urgent.
    ‘Don’t rush me, Vanion. The brain is very complicated.’ She continued her gentle probing. ‘Impossible,’ she said finally, withdrawing her fingers.
    Betuana groaned.
    ‘Please don’t do that, Betuana,’ Aphrael said. ‘All I meant was that I can’t do it here. I’ll have to