The Hidden City

actually existed.’
    ‘Exactly what is he?’ Bevier asked her.
    ‘Evil.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re supposed to be the essence of good—at least that’s what we tell ourselves. Klael is the opposite. He’s our way of explaining the existence of evil. If we didn’t have Klael, we’d have to accept the responsibility for evil ourselves, and we’re a little too fond of ourselves to do that.’
    ‘Then this Klael is the King of Hell?’ Bevier asked.
    ‘Well, sort of. Hell isn’t a place, though. It’s a state of mind. The story has it that when the Elder Gods—Azash and the others—emerged, they found Klael already here. They wanted the world for themselves, and he was in their way. After several of them had tried individually to get rid of him and got themselves obliterated, they banded together and cast him out.’
    ‘Where did he come from? Originally, I mean?’ Bevier pressed. Bevier was very much caught up in first causes.
    ‘How in the world should I know? I wasn’t there. Ask Bhelliom.’
    ‘I’m not so much interested in where this Klael came from as I am in what kinds of things it can do,’ Sparhawk said. He took Bhelliom out of the pouch at his waist. ‘Blue Rose,’ he said, ‘I do think we must talk concerning Klael.’
    ‘It might be well, Anakha,’ the jewel responded, once again taking control of Vanion.
    ‘Where did he—or it—originate?’
    ‘Klael did not originate, Anakha. Even as I, Klael hath always been.’
    ‘What is it—he?’
    ‘Necessary. I would not offend thee, Anakha, but the necessity of Klael is beyond thine ability to comprehend. The Child Goddess hath explained Klael sufficiently—within her capabilities.’
    ‘Well, really!’ Aphrael spluttered.
    A faint smile touched Vanion’s lips. ‘Be not wroth with me, Aphrael. I do love thee still—despite thy limitations. Thou art young, and age shall bring thee wisdom and understanding.’
    ‘This is not going well, Blue Rose,’ Sephrenia warned the stone.
    ‘Ah, well,’ Bhelliom sighed. ‘Let us then to work. Klael was, in fact, cast out by the Elder Gods, as Aphrael hath told thee, although the spirit of Klael, even as my spirit, doth linger in the very rocks of this world—as in all others which I have made. Moreover, what the Elder Gods could do, they could also undo, and the spell which hath returned Klael was implicit in the spell which did cast Klael out. Clearly, some mortal conversant with the spells of the Elder Gods hath reversed the spell of casting out, and Klael hath returned.’
    ‘Can he—or it—be destroyed?’
    ‘It is not “he” of which we speak, nor do we speak of some “it”. We speak of Klael. But nay, Anakha, Klael cannot be destroyed—no more than can I. Klael is eternal.’
    Sparhawk’s heart sank. ‘I think we’re in trouble,’ he muttered to his friends.
    ‘The fault is in some measure mine. So caught up was I in the birth of this latest child of mine that mine attention did stray from needful duties. It is my wont to cast Klael out at a certain point in the making of a new world. This particular child did so delight me, however, that I delayed the casting out. Then it was that I did encounter the red dust which did imprison me, and the duty to cast Klael out did devolve upon the Elder Gods. The casting-out was made imperfect by reason of their imperfection, and thus it was possible for Klael to be returned.’
    ‘By Cyrgon?’ Sparhawk asked bleakly.
    ‘The spell of casting out—and returning—is Styric. Cyrgon could not utter it.’
    ‘Cyzada then,’ Sephrenia guessed. ‘He might very well have known the spell. I don’t think he’d have used it willingly, though.’
    ‘Cyrgon probably forced him to use it, little mother,’ Kalten said. ‘Things haven’t been going very well for Cyrgon and Zalasta lately.’
    ‘But to call Klael!’ Aphrael shuddered.
    ‘Desperate people do desperate things,’ Kalten shrugged. ‘So do desperate Gods, I suppose.’
    ‘What do we do, Blue Rose?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘About Klael, I mean to say?’
    ‘Thou canst do nothing, Anakha. Thou didst well when thou didst meet Azash, and doubtless will do well again in thy dispute with Cyrgon. Thou wouldst be powerless against Klael, however.’
    ‘We’re doomed then.’ Sparhawk suddenly felt totally crushed.
    ‘Doomed? Of course thou art not doomed. Why art thou so easily downcast and made disconsolate, my friend? I did not make thee to confront Klael. That is my