The Hidden City. David Eddings

my sister.’

      ‘Delphaeic magic is directed primarily inward, isn’t it?’

      Xanetia nodded.

      ‘That’s probably why no one can hear or feel it. Styric magic is just the reverse. We alter things around us, so our magic reaches out. Neither form will work by itself in this particular situation, but if we were to combine them …’ She left it hanging in the air between them.

      ‘Interesting notion,’ Aphrael mused.

      ‘I’m not sure I follow,’ Vanion said.

      ‘The Anarae and I are going to have to experiment a bit,’ Sephrenia told him, ‘but if what I’ve got in mind works, we’ll be able to make Berit look so much like Sparhawk that they’ll be able to use each other for shaving mirrors.’

      ‘As long as each of us knows exactly what the other’s doing, it’s not too difficult, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia assured him later when he and Berit joined her, Vanion and the Anarae in the room she shared with Vanion.

      ‘Will it really work?’ he asked her dubiously.

      ‘They haven’t actually tried it yet, Sparhawk,’ Vanion told him, ‘so we’re not entirely positive.’

      ‘That doesn’t sound too promising. This isn’t much of a face, but it’s the only one I’ve got.’

      ‘There will be no danger to thee or to young Sir Berit, Anakha,’ Xanetia said. ‘In times past it hath oft been necessary for my people to leave our valley and to go abroad amongst others. This hath been our means of disguising our true identity.’

      ‘It works sort of like this, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘Xanetia casts a Delphaeic spell that would normally imprint your features on her own face, but just as she releases her spell, I release a Styric one that deflects the spell to Berit instead.’

      ‘Won’t every Styric in Matherion feel it when you release your spell?’ Sparhawk asked.

      ‘That’s the beauty of it, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him. ‘The spell itself originates with Xanetia, and others can’t feel or hear a Delphaeic spell. Cyrgon himself could be in the next room and he wouldn’t hear a thing.’

      ‘You’re sure it’s going to work?’

      ‘There’s one way to find out.’

      Sparhawk, of course, did not feel a thing. He was only the model, after all. It was a bit disconcerting to watch Berit’s appearance gradually change, however.

      When the combined spell had been completed, sparhawk carefully inspected his young friend. ‘Do I really look like that from the side?’ he asked Vanion, feeling a bit deflated.

      ‘I can’t tell the two of you apart.’

      ‘That nose is really crooked, isn’t it?’

      ‘We thought you knew.’

      ‘I’ve never looked at myself from the side this way before.’ Sparhawk looked critically at Berit’s eyes. ‘You should probably try to squint just a little,’ he suggested. ‘My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. ‘That’s one of the things you have to look forward to as you get older.’

      ‘I’ll try to remember that.’ Even Berit’s voice was different.

      ‘Do I really sound like that?’ Sparhawk was crestfallen.

      Vanion nodded.

      Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Seeing and hearing yourself as others do definitely lowers your opinion of yourself,’ he admitted. He looked at Berit again. ‘I didn’t feel anything, did you?’

      Berit nodded, swallowing hard.

      ‘What was it like?’

      ‘I’d really rather not talk about it.’ Berit gently explored his new face with cringing fingertips, wincing as he did.

      ‘I still can’t tell them apart,’ Kalten marveled, staring first at Berit and then at Sparhawk.

      ‘That was sort of the idea,’ Sparhawk told him.

      ‘Which one are you?’

      ‘Try to be serious, Kalten.’

      ‘Now that we know how it’s done, we can make some other changes as well,’ Sephrenia told them. ‘We’ll give you all different faces so that you’ll be able to move around freely – and we’ll put men wearing your faces here in the palace. I think we can all expect to be watched, even after the Harvest Festival, and this should nullify that particular problem.’

      ‘We can make more detailed plans later,’ Vanion said. ‘Let’s get Berit and Khalad on their way first. What’s the customary route when someone wants to go overland from here to Beresa?’ He unrolled a map and spread it out on the table.

      ‘Most travelers go by sea,’ Oscagne replied, but those who don’t usually cross the peninsula to Micae and then take a ship across the gulf to the mainland.’

      ‘There don’t seem to be any roads over there,’ Vanion frowned, looking at the map.

      ‘It’s a relatively uninhabited region, Lord Vanion,’ Oscagne shrugged, ‘salt marshes and the like. What few tracks there are wouldn’t show up on the map.’

      ‘Do the best you can,’ Vanion told the two young men. ‘Once you get past the Tamul Mountains, you’ll hit that road that skirts the western side of the jungle.’

      ‘I’d make a special point of staying out of those mountains, Berit,’ Ulath advised. ‘There are Trolls there now.’

      Berit nodded.

      ‘You’d better have a talk with Faran, Sparhawk,’ Khalad suggested. ‘I don’t think he’ll be fooled just because Berit’s wearing your face, and Berit’s going to have to ride him if this is going to be convincing.’

      ‘I’d forgotten that,’ Sparhawk admitted.

      ‘I thought you might have.’

      ‘All right then,’ Vanion continued his instructions to the two young men, ‘follow that road down to Lydros, then take the road round the southern tip of Arjuna to Beresa. That’s the logical route, and they’ll probably be expecting you to go that way.’

      That’s going to take quite a while, Lord Vanion,’ Khalad said.

      ‘I know. Evidently Krager and his friends want it to. If they were in a hurry, they’d have instructed Sparhawk to go by sea.’

      ‘Give Berit your wife’s ring, Sparhawk,’ Flute instructed.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Zalasta can sense the ring, and if he can, Cyrgon can, too – and Klæl will definitely feel it. If you don’t give Berit the ring, changing his face was just a waste of time.’

      ‘You’re putting Berit and Khalad in a great deal of danger,’ Sephrenia said critically.

      ‘That’s what we get paid for, little mother,’ Khalad shrugged.

      ‘I’ll watch over them,’ Aphrael assured her sister. She looked critically at Berit. ‘Call me,’ she told him.

      ‘Ma’am?’

      ‘Use the spell, Berit,’ she explained with exaggerated patience. ‘I want to be sure you’re doing it right.’

      ‘Oh.’ Berit carefully enunciated the spell of summoning, his hands moving in the intricate accompanying gestures.

      ‘You mispronounced “Kajerasticon”,’ she corrected him.

      Sephrenia was trying without much success to suppress a laugh.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ Talen asked her.

      ‘Sir