emitte lucem tuam et veritatem tuam
It's the following day that Princess Danae falls ill, with no definable malady. No fever, no rash, no cough--a listless sort of weakness. A lack of appetite and a difficulty in waking her. While Mirtai assures the royal couple that their child only needs a tonic--that it's the same as it was the previous month--Martel has his doubts about the ( Read more... )
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Maryani looks extremely worried; she sticks close to Martel, and doesn't say anything, but she's paler than usual.
"The younger Gods are so totally involved with their worshipers that their very lives depend on them," Sephrenia explains, "Please, Sparhawk, ask Bhelliom to take us to Sarsos immediately."
Sparhawk nods bleakly and takes out the box, touching his ring to the lid. He commands it to open, and the lid snaps up.
"Blue-Rose," Sparhawk says, "a crisis hath arisen. The Child-Goddess is made gravely ill by reason of the murder of her worshipers in far-off Eosia. We must at once to Sarsos that Sephrenia might consult with the Thousand of Styricum regarding a cure."
"It shall be as thou doth require, Anakha," Bhelliom says--through Vanion.
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Martel starts, slightly--he suspects there's never going to be a reaction to that other than startlement. Vanion's expression--or perhaps Bhelliom's--turns slightly uncertain. "Is it proper for me to tell thee that I feel sympathy for thee and thy mate for this illness of thine only child?"
"I do appreciate thy kind concern, Blue Rose." Sparhawk, Martel is grudgingly forced to occasionally admit only to himself, isn't as rough-hewn in all things as he projects.
"My concern doth not arise merely from kindness, Anakha. Twice hath the gentle hand of the Child Goddess touched me, and even I am not proof against the subtle magic of her touch. For the love we all bear her, let us away to Sarsos that she may be made whole again."
The world shifts, blurs, and then the group of them are suddenly before the marble-sheathed council hall in Sarsos. Autumn is already more advanced, and the birch forest lying at the city's outskirts is ablaze with colour.
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"You three wait here," Sephrenia advises, "Maryani and I will go in together. Let's not stir up the hotheads by marching Elenes into the council chamber again."
Sparhawk nods and opens Bhelliom's golden case to put the jewel away.
"Nay, Anakha," Bhelliom says, still speaking through Vanion, "I would know how Sephrenia's proposal is received."
"An it please thee, Blue-Rose," Sparhawk says, politely.
Maryani and Sephrenia go quickly up the marble steps and inside.
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"It's cooler here," Vanion notes, pulling his cloak tighter about himself.
"Yes, it's farther north."
"That more or less exhausts the weather as a topic."
Martel snorts, quietly.
"Quit worrying, Sparhawk. Sephrenia has a great deal of influence with the Thousand. I'm sure they'll agree to help."
"Zalasta had a great deal of influence, too," Martel observes, blandly.
"Not now, Martel," Vanion reproaches him, wearily, and they wait on the steps as the minutes drag by.
It's half an hour or so later when Vanion's voice comes sharp, abrupt: "Come with me, Anakha!"
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