The Redemption of Althalus. David Eddings

get to go to Kanthon then. There’s something to be said for that, I suppose.’

      ‘Oh?’ Albron asked.

      ‘It’s open country down there in Treborea. I don’t want to offend you, my Lord, but there are too many trees here in Arum for my taste.’

      ‘Don’t you like trees?’

      ‘Not when one of my cousin’s assassins might be hiding behind any one of them. Flat, open country’s sort of boring, but some boredom might give my nerves a bit of a rest. Here lately they’ve been stretched as tight as a bowstring. What does Eliar look like?’

      ‘He’s sort of gangly,’ the red-bearded armorer said. ‘He’s only about fifteen years old, so he’s still growing. If he lives, he’ll probably turn into a fairly respectable warrior. He isn’t any too bright, but he might outgrow that. He’s got a lot of enthusiasm, and he’s convinced that he’s the greatest warrior alive.’

      ‘I’d better hurry, then,’ Althalus said. ‘Young Eliar sounds like a fellow who’s just brimful of incipient mortality.’

      ‘Nicely put, Master Althalus,’ Albron said admiringly. ‘That description fits just about every adolescent male in the whole of Arum.’

      ‘They’re good for business, though, aren’t they, Chief Albron?’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Albron smirked. ‘I can usually get double price for the young ones.’

      Althalus and Emerald left Albron’s castle the next morning and traveled south. ‘Do you know the way to Kanthon?’ Emmy asked as they rode on down the canyon.

      ‘Of course, Em. I know several ways to just about every city in the world.’

      ‘And several other ways to get out of them?’

      ‘Naturally. Getting out of town in a hurry is sometimes very necessary for people in my profession.’

      ‘I wonder why?’

      ‘Be nice, Emmy. Where do we go after we get the Knife away from Eliar?’

      ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Don’t worry, Althalus. The writing on the Knife will tell us where to go.’

      ‘I thought the words on the blade were there to identify the people we’re going to need.’

      ‘That’s part of what they say, but only part of it. The writing on the blade is much more complex than that, pet, and it changes with the circumstances. It tells us where to go, who we need to find, and what we’re supposed to do next.’

      ‘It sounds to me as if it’s almost like the Book.’

      ‘Sort of, yes. The Knife changes, though, and the Book doesn’t. Let’s move along, Althalus. We have a long way to go.’

      They rode down onto the plains of Perquaine, and after about a week they reached the city of Maghu. There had been many changes in Maghu since Althalus had last been there, but the ancient temple was still the most prominent building in town. As they rode past it, Althalus was a bit startled by Emmy’s reaction. She was riding, as always, in the hood of his cloak, and she laid back her ears and hissed at the temple. ‘What was that all about?’ he asked her.

      ‘I hate that place!’ she replied vehemently.

      ‘What’s wrong with it?’

      ‘It’s grotesque!’

      ‘It’s a little fancy, but not much more than other temples I’ve seen.’

      ‘I’m not talking about the temple, Althalus. I’m talking about the statue inside.’

      ‘You mean the one with all those extra bosoms? It’s just the local goddess, Em. You don’t have to take it so personally.’

      ‘It is personal, Althalus!’

      He could feel her fuming outrage, and he looked sharply back over his shoulder at her. A sudden notion struck him, and he sent a probing thought into that part of her mind she’d always insisted was personal and private. He was stunned by what he found. ‘Is that who you really are?’ he gasped.

      ‘I’ve told you to stay out of there!’

      ‘You’re Dweia, aren’t you?’

      ‘Amazing. You even pronounced it right.’ Her tone was snippy. She was definitely not in a good humor.

      Althalus was awed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.

      ‘It wasn’t any of your business who I am.’

      ‘Do you really look anything like that statue?’

      ‘Like a brood-sow, you mean? – Like a whole herd of brood sows?’

      ‘I was talking about the face, not all those extra – ’He groped for a non-offensive word.

      ‘The face isn’t accurate either.’

      ‘A fertility goddess? What’s fertility got to do with anything?’

      ‘Would you like to rephrase that question – while you still have your health?’

      ‘Maybe I should just drop it.’

      ‘Wise decision.’

      They rode on out of Maghu, and Althalus struggled with what he’d just discovered. In a peculiar sort of way, it began to make sense. ‘No biting,’ he said to Emmy. ‘Just tell me if I’ve got this straight. Deiwos makes things, right?’

      ‘So?’

      ‘After he’s made them, though, he goes on to make other things, and he turns the things he’s already made over to you. You’re the one who keeps them alive by making sure that they all have offspring – or whatever.’ Then another thought came to him. ‘That’s why you hate Daeva so much, isn’t it, Em? He wants to destroy everything Deiwos made, but you want to preserve it – to keep it alive. Is that why your names all begin with the same sound? – Deiwos, Dweia, and Daeva? And does that mean that you’re Daeva’s sister as well as the sister of Deiwos?’

      ‘It’s a little more complex than that, Althalus, but you’re nibbling around the edges of it. There are some men coming up the road toward us.’

      Althalus looked on ahead. ‘Maybe you’d better pull your head in until I find out who they are.’

      As the men came closer, Althalus saw that they were wearing kilts. Most of them were also wearing bloody bandages, and several were hobbling along with the aid of wooden staffs. ‘Arums,’ he muttered to Emmy. ‘The markings on their kilts suggest that they’re members of Albron’s clan.’

      ‘What are they doing here in Perquaine?’

      ‘I don’t know, Em. I’ll ask them.’ Althalus reined in his horse and waited as the wounded men hobbled closer.

      The man at the front of the column was tall, lean, and dark haired. He had a bloody bandage wrapped about his head and a sour look on his face.

      ‘You gentlemen are a long way from home,’ Althalus said by way of greeting.

      ‘We’re trying to do something about that right now,’ the sour-faced man said.

      ‘You’re of Albron’s clan, aren’t you?’

      ‘How did you know that?’

      ‘The markings on your kilts, neighbor.’

      ‘You don’t look like an Arum to me.’

      ‘I’m not, but I’m acquainted with your customs. It looks as if you’ve run into some trouble.’

      ‘That sort of covers it, yes. Chief Albron hired us out to work in a war over in Treborea. It