Sparhawk rose to his feet, crooked one finger at the little Goddess and led her off to one side.

‘What?’ she demanded crossly.

‘Are you in the mood for some advice?’ he asked her.

‘I’ll listen.’ Her tone made no promises.

‘You’re stupefying them with eloquence, Aphrael. Kalten looks like a pole-axed ox at the moment. We’re plain men, little Goddess. You’ll have to speak to us plainly if you want us to understand.’

She pouted. ‘I worked for weeks on that speech, Sparhawk.’

‘It’s a lovely speech, Aphrael. When you tell the other Gods about this – and I’m sure you will – recite it to them as if you had delivered it to us verbatim. They’ll swoon with delight, I’m sure. For the sake of brevity – this night won’t last forever, you know – and for the sake of clarity, give us the abbreviated version. You might consider suspending the thee’s and thou’s as well. They make you sound as if you’re preaching a sermon, and sermons tend to put people to sleep.’

She pouted slightly. ‘Oh, very well, Sparhawk,’ she said, ‘but you’re taking all the fun out of this for me.’

‘Can you ever forgive me?’

She stuck her tongue out at him and led him back to rejoin the others.

‘This grouchy old bear suggests that I get to the point,’ Aphrael said, giving Sparhawk a sly, sidelong glance. ‘He’s nice enough as a knight, I suppose, but he’s a bit lacking in poetry. Very well, then, I’ve asked you to come here so that I can tell you a few things about Bhelliom – why it’s so powerful – and so very dangerous.’ She paused, knitting her raven-like brows. ‘Bhelliom isn’t substance,’ she continued. ‘It’s spirit, and it predates the stars. There are many such spirits, and each of them has many attributes. One of their more important attributes is colour. You see, what happens is –’ She looked around at them. ‘Maybe we can save that for some other day,’ she decided. ‘Anyway, these spirits were cast across the sky so that –’ She broke off again. ‘This is very difficult, Sephrenia,’ she said in a plaintive little voice. ‘Why must these Elenes be so dense?’

‘Because their God chooses not to explain things to them, Aphrael,’ Sephrenia told her.

‘He’s such an old stick,’ Aphrael said. ‘He makes rules for no reason at all. That’s all He ever does – make rules. He’s so tiresome sometimes.’

‘Why don’t you go on with your story, Aphrael?’