Sparhawk reached down inside his tunic and drew out the canvas pouch in which he carried Bhelliom. He pulled open the drawstring, lifted out the most precious object in the world and placed it on the table Vanion used for a writing desk. Even as he did so, there came again that faint flicker of the darkness somewhere off in a dim corner. The hound of darkness his nightmare had conjured up in the mountains of Thalesia followed him still, and the shadow seemed larger and darker now as if each re-emergence of Bhelliom somehow increased its size and its brooding menace.

‘Do not look too deeply into those petals, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia warned. ‘Bhelliom can capture your souls if you look at it too long.’

‘God!’ Kalten breathed. ‘Look at that thing!’

Each glowing petal of the Sapphire Rose was so perfect that one could almost see dew clinging to it. From deep within the jewel emanated a blue light and an almost overpowering command to look upon it and observe its perfection.

‘Oh, God,’ Bevier prayed fervently, ‘defend us from the seduction of this stone.’ Bevier was a Cyrinic Knight and an Arcian. Sometimes Sparhawk felt that he was excessively pious. This, however, was not one of those times. If even half of what he had already sensed was true, Sparhawk knew that Bevier’s fear of Bhelliom was well placed.

Ulath, the huge Thalesian, was muttering in Troll. ‘Not kill, Bhelliom-Blue-Rose,’ he said. ‘Church Knights not enemies to Bhelliom. Church Knights protect Bhelliom from Azash. Help make what is wrong right again, Blue-Rose. I am Ulath-from-Thalesia. If Bhelliom have anger, send anger against Ulath.’

Sparhawk straightened. ‘No,’ he said firmly in the hideous Troll-tongue. ‘I am Sparhawk-from-Elenia. I am he who kills Ghwerig-Troll-Dwarf. I am he who brings Bhelliom-Blue-Rose to this place to heal my queen. If Bhelliom-Blue-Rose do this and still have anger, send anger against Sparhawk-from-Elenia and not against Ulath-from-Thalesia.’

‘You fool!’ Ulath exploded. ‘Have you got any idea of what that thing can do to you?’

‘Wouldn’t it do the same sort of things to you?’

‘Gentlemen, please,’ Sephrenia said to them wearily. ‘Stop this nonsense at once.’ She looked at the glowing rose on the table. ‘Listen to me, Bhelliom-Blue-Rose,’ she said firmly, not even bothering to speak in the language of the Trolls. ‘Sparhawk-from-Elenia has the rings. Bhelliom-Blue-Rose must acknowledge his authority and obey him.’

The jewel darkened briefly, and then the deep blue light returned.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I will guide Bhelliom-Blue-Rose in what must be done, and Sparhawk-from-Elenia will command it. Blue-Rose must obey.’

The jewel flickered, and then the light returned.

‘Put it away now, Sparhawk.’

Sparhawk put the rose back into its pouch and slipped it back under his tunic.

‘Where’s Flute?’ Berit asked, looking around.

‘That, my young friend, is a very, very long story,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘Not dead?’ Sir Tynian asked in a shocked tone. ‘Surely not dead.’