The Diamond Throne (21 page)

‘The Church does not approve of such methods, your Majesty,’ Dolmant said.

Wargun snorted derisively ‘The dungeons beneath the Basilica of Chyrellos are reputed to employ the most expert interrogators in the world,’ he said.

‘That practice is being discontinued.’

‘Perhaps,’ Wargun said, ‘but this is a civil matter. We’re not constrained by churchly delicacy, and I for one don’t propose to wait while you pray an answer out of those two.’

Lycheas, who had been smarting from the almost absent-minded rebuke Annias had delivered to him, straightened on his throne-like chair. ‘We are delighted that this matter has been resolved so amicably,’ he announced, ‘and we rejoice that the reports concerning the death of Count Radun have proved to be unfounded. I agree with the Patriarch of Demos that we can consider this inquiry concluded – unless Lord Vanion’s excellent witnesses can shed further light on just who might have been behind this monstrous conspiracy’

‘No, your Highness,’ Vanion told him. ‘We are not prepared at this time to do so.’

Lycheas turned to the kings of Thalesia, Deira, and Arcium, trying with scant success to look regal. ‘Our time, your Majesties, is short,’ he said. ‘We each have kingdoms to rule, and there are other matters requiring our attention. I suggest that we tender Lord Vanion our appreciation for his aid in clarifying this situation and give him permission to withdraw so that we may turn to state matters.’

The kings nodded their agreement.

‘You and your friends may leave now, Lord Vanion,’ Lycheas said grandly

‘Thank you, your Highness,’ Vanion replied with a stiff bow ‘We are all happy to have been of service to you.’ He turned and started towards the door

‘A moment, Lord Vanion,’ Darellon, the slightly built Preceptor of the Alcione Knights said. Then he stepped forward. ‘Since your Majesties’ conversations will now turn on state matters, I think that I, Lord Komier, and Lord Abriel will also withdraw. We are little versed in
statecraft and could contribute nothing of value to your discussions. The matter that has come to light this morning, however, requires some consultation among the militant orders. Should conspiracies of this nature recur, we must make preparations to meet them.’

‘Well said,’ Komier agreed.

‘A splendid idea, Darellon,’ King Obler gave his assent. ‘Let’s not be caught asleep again. Keep me advised of the thrust of your discussions.’

‘You may rely upon me, your Majesty.’

The preceptors of the other three orders marched down from the dais and joined Vanion, who led the way from the ornate audience chamber. Once they were out in the corridor, Komier, the hulking Preceptor of the Genidian Knights, grinned openly ‘Very neat, Vanion,’ he said.

‘I’m glad you liked it.’ Vanion grinned back.

‘My head must have been packed in wool this morning, ’ Komier confessed. ‘Would you believe I almost accepted all that tripe?’

‘It was not entirely your fault, Lord Komier,’ Sephrenia told him.

He gave her a questioning look.

‘Let me think my way through it a bit more,’ she said, frowning.

The big Thalesian looked at Vanion. ‘It was Annias, wasn’t it?’ he guessed shrewdly as they progressed down the hall. ‘The scheme was his, I take it?’

Vanion nodded. ‘The Pandion presence in Elenia is hindering his operations. He saw this as a way to remove us.’

‘Elenian politics get a bit dense sometimes. We’re much more direct in Thalesia. Just how powerful is the Primate of Cimmura?’

Vanion shrugged. ‘He controls the Royal Council. That makes him more or less the ruler of the kingdom.’

‘Does he want the throne for himself?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He prefers to manipulate things from behind the scenes. He’s trying to groom Lycheas for the throne.’

‘Lycheas is a bastard, isn’t he?’

Vanion nodded again.

‘How can a bastard be king? Nobody knows who his father is.’

‘Annias probably believes he can get around that problem. Until Sparhawk’s father intervened, our good primate had very nearly convinced King Aldreas that it was perfectly legitimate for him to marry his own sister.’

‘That’s disgusting,’ Komier shuddered.

‘I’ve heard that Annias has certain ambitions involving the Archprelate’s throne in Chyrellos,’ Abriel, the greyhaired Preceptor of the Cyrinic Knights, said to Patriarch Dolmant.

‘I’ve heard some of the same rumours myself,’ Dolmant replied blandly

‘This humiliation is going to be quite a setback for him, isn’t it? The Hierocracy’s likely to look with some disfavour on a man who makes a total ass of himself in public’

‘That thought had crossed my mind as well.’

‘And your report will be quite detailed, I expect?’

‘That is my obligation, Lord Abriel,’ Dolmant said piously ‘As a member of the Hierocracy myself, I could hardly conceal any of the facts, could I? I will have to present the
whole
truth to the high councils of the Church.’

‘We wouldn’t have it any other way, your Grace.’

‘We’re going to need to talk, Vanion,’ Darellon, the Preceptor of the Alcione Knights, said seriously. This scheme was directed at you and your order this time, but it concerns us all. It could be any one of us the next time.
Is there someplace secure where we can discuss this matter?’

‘Our chapterhouse is on the eastern edge of the city,’ Vanion replied. ‘I can guarantee that none of the primate’s spies are inside its walls.’

As they rode out through the palace gates, Sparhawk remembered something and slowed to ride with Kurik at the rear of the column.

‘What’s the matter?’ Kurik asked.

‘Let’s drop behind a little bit. I want to talk with that beggar boy.’

‘That’s hardly good manners, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said. ‘A meeting of the preceptors of all four orders happens about once in a lifetime, and they’re going to have some questions for you.’

‘We can catch up with them before they get to the chapterhouse.’

‘What do you want to talk to a beggar for?’ Kurik sounded more than a little irritated.

‘He’s working for me.’ Sparhawk gave his friend an appraising look. ‘What’s bothering you, Kurik?’ he asked. ‘Your face looks like a rain cloud.’

‘Never mind,’ Kurik replied shortly

Talen was still huddled in the angle between two intersecting walls. He had his ragged cloak wrapped about him and he was shivering.

Sparhawk dismounted a few feet from the boy and made some pretence of checking his saddle girth. ‘What did you want to tell me?’ he said quietly

‘That man you had me watching,’ Talen began. ‘Krager, wasn’t that his name? He left Cimmura about the same time you did, but he came back a week or so later. There was another man with him – a fellow with white hair. It sort of stands out because he’s not really that old. Anyway, they went to the house of that Baron
who’s so fond of little boys. They stayed there for several hours, and then they rode out of town again. I got close enough to them at the east gate to hear them talking with the gate guards. When the guard asked their destination, they said they were going to Cammoria.’

‘Good lad,’ Sparhawk congratulated him, dropping a gold crown into the begging bowl.

‘Child’s play,’ Talen shrugged. He bit the coin and then tucked it inside his tunic. Thanks, Sparhawk.’

‘Why didn’t you tell the porter at the inn on Rose Street?’

‘The place is being watched. I decided to play it safe.’ Then Talen looked over the big knight’s shoulder. ‘Hello, Kurik,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you for a long time.’

‘You two know each other?’ Sparhawk was a bit surprised.

Kurik flushed, looking embarrassed.

‘You wouldn’t believe how far back our friendship goes, Sparhawk,’ Talen said with a sly little smile at Kurik.

That’s enough, Talen,’ Kurik said sharply. Then his expression softened slightly. ‘How’s your mother?’ he asked. There was a strange, wistful note in his voice.

‘She’s doing quite well, actually. When you add what I make to what you give her from time to time, she’s comfortably off.’

‘Am I missing something here?’ Sparhawk asked mildly.

‘It’s a personal matter, Sparhawk,’ Kurik told him. Then he turned to the boy. ‘What are you doing out here in the streets, Talen?’ he demanded.

‘I’m begging, Kurik. You see?’ Talen held out his bowl. That’s what this is for. Would you like to drop something in for old times’ sake?’

‘I put you in a very good school, boy.’

‘Oh, it was very good indeed. The headmaster used to tell us how good it was three times a day – at mealtimes. He and the other teachers ate roast beef. The students got porridge. I don’t like porridge all that much, so I enrolled in a different school.’ He gestured extravagantly at the street. ‘This is my classroom now. Do you like it? The lessons I learn here are much more useful than rhetoric or philosophy or all that tiresome theology. If I pay attention, I can earn enough to buy my own roast beef – or anything else, for that matter.’

‘I ought to thrash you, Talen,’ Kurik threatened.

‘Why, father,’ the boy replied, wide-eyed, ‘what a thing to suggest.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, you’d have to catch me first. That’s the first lesson I learned in my new school. Would you like to see how well I learned it?’ He took up his crutch and begging bowl and ran off down the street. He was, Sparhawk noted, very fast on his feet.

Kurik started to swear.

‘Father?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘I told you that this is none of your business, Sparhawk.’

‘We don’t keep any secrets from each other, Kurik.’

‘You’re going to push this, aren’t you?’

‘Me? I’m just curious, that’s all. This is a side of you I’ve never seen before.’

‘I was indiscreet some years ago.’

That’s a delicate way to put it.’

‘I can do without the clever remarks, Sparhawk.’

‘Does Aslade know about this?’

‘Of course not. It would only make her unhappy if I told her. I kept quiet about it to spare her feelings. A man owes that to his wife, doesn’t he?’

‘I understand perfectly, Kurik,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘And was Talen’s mother so very beautiful?’

Kurik sighed, and his face grew oddly soft. ‘She was
eighteen, and like a spring morning. I couldn’t help myself, Sparhawk. I love Aslade, but…’

Sparhawk put his arm about his friend’s shoulder. ‘It happens sometimes, Kurik,’ he said. ‘Don’t beat yourself over the head about it.’ Then he straightened. ‘Why don’t we see if we can catch up with the others?’ he suggested, as he swung back up into his saddle.

Lord Abriel, the Preceptor of the Cyrinic Knights of Arcium, stood at the green-draped window of Vanion’s study in the south tower of the Pandion Knights’ chapterhouse, looking out at the city of Cimmura. Abriel was a solidly built man in his sixties with silvery hair. His lined face was devoid of humour, and his eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. He had removed his sword and helmet upon their arrival, but still wore the rest of his armour and his pale blue surcoat. Since he was the eldest of the four preceptors, the others deferred to him. ‘I’m sure that we’re all aware of most of what’s been happening here in Elenia,’ he began, ‘but there are a few things that need a little clarification, I think. Would you mind if we asked you some questions, Vanion?’

‘Not at all,’ Vanion replied. ‘We’ll all try our best to answer any that you might have.’

‘Good. We’ve had our differences in the past, my Lord, but in this situation we’ll want to set those aside.’ Abriel, like all the Cyrinics, spoke in a considered, even formal, fashion. ‘I think we need to know more about this Martel person.’

Vanion leaned back in his chair. ‘He was a Pandion,’ he replied with a trace of sadness in his voice. ‘I was forced to expel him from the order.’

‘That’s a little terse, Vanion,’ Komier said. Unlike the
others, Komier wore a mail shirt rather than formal armour He was a heavy-boned man with thick shoulders and large hands. Like most Thalesians, the Preceptor of the Genidian Knights was blond, and his shaggy eyebrows gave his face an almost brutish look. As he spoke, he continually toyed with the hilt of his broadsword, which lay on the table before him. ‘If this Martel’s going to be a problem, we all ought to know as much about him as we can.’

‘Martel was one of the best,’ Sephrenia said quietly. She sat in her hooded white robe before the fire, holding her teacup. ‘He was extremely proficient in the secrets. That, I think, is what led to his disgrace.’

‘He was good with a lance, too,’ Kalten admitted ruefully. ‘He used to unhorse me on a regular basis on the practice field. Sparhawk was probably the only one who was a match for him.’

‘Exactly what was this disgrace you mentioned, Sephrenia?’ Lord Darellon asked. The Preceptor of the Alcione Knights of Deira was a slender man in his late forties. His massive Deiran armour looked almost too heavy for his slight frame

Sephrenia sighed. ‘The secrets of Styricum are myriad,’ she replied. ‘Some are fairly simple – common spells and incantations. Martel mastered those very quickly. Beyond commonplace magic, however, lies a deeper and far more dangerous realm. Those of us who instruct the Knights of the Church in the secrets do not introduce our pupils to that level of magic. It serves no practical purpose and it involves things that imperil the souls of Elenes.’