The Diamond Throne (23 page)

‘You think there’s a connection?’ Komier asked.

Sparhawk nodded. The Styric had been following me around for several days, and I’m fairly sure he was the one who pointed Kalten and me out to the soldiers. That would connect him to Annias.’

‘It’s pretty thin, Sparhawk. Annias has some fairly well-known prejudices where Styrics are concerned.’

‘Not so many that he wouldn’t seek out their help if he thought he needed it. On two occasions I’ve caught him using magic.’

‘A churchman?’ Dolmant’s expression was startled. ‘That’s strictly forbidden.’

‘So was plotting the murder of Count Radun, your Grace I don’t think Annias pays too much attention to the rules. He’s not much of a magician, but the fact that he knows how it’s done indicates that he’s had instruction, and that means a Styric.’

Darellon interlaced his slender fingers on the table in front of him. ‘There are Styrics and then there are Styrics,’ he noted. ‘As Abriel pointed out, there’s been a great deal of Styric activity in the central kingdom of late-much of it coming out of Zemoch. If Annias sought out a Styric to instruct him in the secrets, he might possibly have contacted the wrong one.’

‘I think you’re overcomplicating things, Darellon,’ Dolmant said. ‘Not even Annias would have dealings with Otha.’

‘That’s presuming that he
knows
he’s dealing with Otha.’

‘My Lords,’ Sephrenia said very quietly, ‘consider what happened this morning.’ Her eyes were very intent ‘Would any of you – or the kings you serve – have
been deceived by the transparent accusations of the Primate Annias? They were crude, obvious, even childish. You Elenes are a subtle, sophisticated people. If your minds had been alert, you’d have laughed at Annias’ clumsy attempts to discredit the Pandions. But you didn’t. Neither did your kings. And Annias, who’s as subtle as a serpent, presented his case as if he believed it was a stroke of genius.’

‘Exactly what are you getting at, Sephrenia?’ Vanion asked.

‘I think we should give some consideration to Lord Darellon’s line of thought. The presentation this morning would have overwhelmed a Styric. We are a simple people, and our magicians do not have to work very hard to persuade us to their way of thinking. You Elenes are more sceptical, more logical. You are not so easily deceived – unless you’ve been tampered with.’

Dolmant leaned forward, his eyes betraying his eagerness for a contest at logic. ‘But Annias is also an Elene, with a mind trained in theological disputation. Why would he have been so clumsy?’

‘You’re assuming that Annias was speaking in his own voice this morning, Dolmant. A Styric sorcerer – or some creature subject to one – would present his case in terms that would be understood by a simple Styric and then rely upon magic to induce belief.’

‘Was someone using that kind of magic in that room this morning?’ Darellon asked, his face troubled.

‘Yes,’ she replied simply.

‘I think we’re getting a bit far afield,’ Komier said. ‘What we need to do right now is get Sparhawk on his way to Borrata. The quicker we find a cure for Queen Ehlana’s illness, the quicker we can eliminate the threat of Annias altogether. Once we cut off his supply of ready cash, he can consort with anybody – or anything – he wants to, for all I care.’

‘You’d better get ready to ride, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said. ‘I’ll write down the Queen’s symptoms for you.’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary, Vanion,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘I know her condition in much greater detail than you do.’

‘But you can’t write, Sephrenia,’ he reminded her.

‘I won’t have to, Vanion, she said sweetly. ‘I’ll tell the physicians in Borrata about the symptoms personally.’

‘You’re going with Sparhawk?’ Vanion looked surprised.

‘Of course. There are things afoot that seem to be focusing on him. He might need my help when he gets to Cammoria.’

‘I’ll go along, too,’ Kalten said. ‘If Sparhawk catches up with Martel in Cammoria, I want to be there to see what happens.’ He grinned at his friend. ‘I’ll let you have Martel,’ he offered, ‘if you’ll give me Adus.’

‘Sounds fair,’ Sparhawk agreed.

‘You’ll be passing through Chyrellos on your way to Borrata,’ Dolmant said. ‘I’ll ride along with you as far as that.’

‘We’ll be honoured to have you, your Grace.’ Sparhawk looked at Count Radun. ‘Might you want to join us as well, my Lord?’ he asked.

‘No. Thanks all the same, Sir Sparhawk,’ the count replied. ‘’ll return to Arcium with my nephew and Lord Abriel.’

Komier was frowning slightly. ‘I don’t want to delay you, Sparhawk,’ he said, ‘but Darellon is right. Annias is sure to guess what our next step is likely to be. There are only so many centres of medical learning in Eosia; if this Martel fellow is already in Cammoria, and still taking orders from Annias, he’s almost certain to try to keep you from reaching Borrata. I think it might be best if you waited in Chyrellos until the knights from our other
orders catch up with you. A show of force can sometimes avoid difficulties.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Vanion agreed. ‘The others can join him at the Pandion chapterhouse in Chyrellos and ride out together from there.’

Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘That’s it, then,’ he said. He glanced at Sephrenia. ‘Are you going to leave Flute here?’

‘No. She goes with me.’

‘It’s going to be dangerous,’ he warned.

‘I can protect her if she needs protection. Besides, the decision is not mine to make.’

‘Don’t you love talking with her?’ Kalten said. ‘All the mental stimulation of trying to puzzle out the meaning of what she’s saying.’

Sparhawk ignored that.

Later in the courtyard where Sparhawk and the others were preparing to mount for the ride to Chyrellos, the novice, Berit, approached. ‘There’s a lame beggar boy at the gate, my Lord,’ he said to Sparhawk. ‘He says he has something urgent to tell you.’

‘Let him through the gates,’ Sparhawk said.

Berit looked a bit shocked.

‘I know the boy,’ Sparhawk said. ‘He works for me.’

‘As you wish, my Lord,’ Berit said, bowing. He turned back towards the gate.

‘Oh, by the way, Berit,’ Sparhawk said.

‘My Lord?’

‘Don’t walk too close to the boy. He’s a thief and he can steal everything you own before you go ten paces.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, my Lord.’

A few minutes later, Berit came back escorting Talen.

‘I’ve got a problem, Sparhawk,’ the boy said.

‘Oh?’

‘Some of the primate’s men found out that I’ve been helping you. They’re looking for me all over Cimmura.’

‘I told you that you were going to get in trouble,’ Kurik growled at him. Then the squire looked at Sparhawk. ‘What do we do now?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want him locked up in the cathedral dungeon.’

Sparhawk scratched his chin. ‘I guess he’ll have to go with us,’ he said, ‘at least as far as Demos.’ He grinned suddenly ‘We can leave him with Aslade and the boys.’

‘Are you insane, Sparhawk?’

‘I thought you’d be delighted at the notion, Kurik.’

‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.’

‘Don’t you want him to get to know his brothers?’ Sparhawk looked at the boy. ‘How much did you steal from Berit here?’ he bluntly asked the young thief.

‘Not very much, really’

‘Give it all back.’

‘I’m very disappointed in you, Sparhawk.’

‘Life is filled with disappointments. Now give it back.’

It was midafternoon when they rode across the drawbridge and onto the road leading to Demos and beyond. The wind still blew, but the sky was clearing. The long road stretching towards Demos was teeming with traffic. Carts and wagons rattled by, and drably dressed peasants with heavy bundles on their shoulders plodded slowly towards the market places of Cimmura. The raw winter wind bent the yellow grass at the sides of the road. Sparhawk rode a few paces in advance of the others, and the travellers on their way to Cimmura gave way to him. Faran was prancing again as they rode along at a steady trot.

‘Your horse seems restive, Sparhawk,’ the Patriarch Dolmant, wrapped in a heavy black ecclesiastical cloak over his cassock, observed.

‘He’s just showing off,’ Sparhawk replied back over his shoulder. ‘He has some notion that it impresses me.’

‘It gives him something to do while he’s waiting for the chance to bite somebody.’ Kalten laughed.

‘Is he vicious?’

‘It’s the nature of the war horse, your Grace,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘They’re bred for aggressiveness. In Faran’s case they just went too far.’

‘Has he ever bitten you?’

‘Once. Then I explained to him that I’d rather he didn’t do it any more.’

‘Explained?’

‘I used a stout stick. He got the idea almost immediately’

‘We’re not going to get too far this afternoon, Sparhawk,’ Kurik called from his position at the rear of the party where he rode with their pair of pack horses. ‘We started late. There’s an inn I know of about a league ahead. What do you think of the idea of stopping there, getting a good night’s sleep, and starting out early in the morning?’

‘It makes sense, Sparhawk,’ Kalten agreed. ‘I don’t enjoy sleeping on the ground that much any more.’

‘All right,’ Sparhawk said. He glanced at Talen, who was riding a tired-looking bay horse beside Sephrenia’s white palfrey The boy kept looking back over his shoulder apprehensively ‘You’re being awfully quiet,’ he said.

‘Young people aren’t supposed to talk in the presence of their elders, Sparhawk,’ Talen replied glibly. ‘That’s one of the things they taught me in that school Kurik sent me to. I try to obey the rules – when it doesn’t inconvenience me too much.’

‘The young man is pert,’ Dolmant observed.

‘He’s also a thief, your Grace,’ Kalten warned. ‘Don’t get too close to him if you have any valuables about you.’

Dolmant looked sternly at the boy ‘Aren’t you aware of the fact that thievery is frowned upon by the Church?’

‘Yes,’ Talen sighed, ‘I know The Church is very straitlaced about things like that.’

‘Watch your mouth, Talen,’ Kurik snapped.

‘I can’t, Kurik. My nose gets in the way’

‘The lad’s depravity is perhaps understandable,’ Dolmant said tolerantly. ‘I doubt that he’s received much instruction in doctrine or morality.’ He sighed. ‘In many ways, the poor children of the streets are as pagan as the
Styrics.’ He smiled slyly at Sephrenia, who rode with Flute bundled up in an old cloak in front of her saddle.

‘Actually, your Grace,’ Talen disagreed, ‘I attend Church services regularly and I always pay close attention to the sermons.’

That’s surprising,’ the Patriarch said.

‘Not really, your Grace,’ Talen said. ‘Most thieves go to church. The offertory provides all sorts of splendid opportunities.’

Dolmant looked suddenly aghast.

‘Look at it this way, your Grace,’ Talen explained with mock seriousness. The Church distributes money to the poor, doesn’t she?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, I’m one of the poor, so I take my share when the plate goes by. It saves the Church all the time and trouble of looking me up to give me the money I like to be helpful when I can.’

Dolmant stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing.

Some few miles further along, they encountered a small band of people dressed in the crude, homespun tunics that identified them as Styrics. They were on foot and, as soon as they saw Sparhawk and the others, they ran fearfully out into a nearby field.

‘Why are they so frightened?’ Talen asked, puzzled.

‘News travels very rapidly in Styricum,’ Sephrenia replied, ‘and there have been incidents lately’

‘Incidents?’

Briefly, Sparhawk told him what had happened in the Styric village in Arcium. Talen’s face went very pale. ‘That’s awful!’ he exclaimed.

‘The Church has tried for hundreds of years to stamp out that sort of thing,’ Dolmant said sadly

‘I think we stamped it out fairly completely in that part
of Arcium,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘I sent some men out to deal with the peasants who were responsible.’

‘Did you hang them?’ Talen asked fiercely.

‘Sephrenia wouldn’t let us, so my men gave them a switching instead.’

‘That’s all?’

‘They used thorn bushes for switches. Thorns grow very long down in Arcium, and I instructed my men to be thorough about it.’

‘A bit extreme, perhaps,’ Dolmant said.

‘It seemed fitting at the time, your Grace The Church Knights have close ties with the Styrics and we don’t like people who mistreat our friends.’

The pale winter sun was sliding into a bank of chill purple cloud behind them when they arrived at a run-down wayside inn. They ate a barely adequate meal of thin soup and greasy mutton and retired early.

It was clear and cold the following morning. The road was frozen iron-hard, and the bracken lining its sides was white with frost. The sun was very bright, but there was little warmth to it. They rode at a loping canter, wrapped tightly in their cloaks to ward off the biting chill.

The road undulated across the hills and valleys of central Elenia, passing through fields lying fallow under the winter sky Sparhawk looked about as he rode. This was the region where he and Kalten had grown up, and he felt that peculiar sense of homecoming all men feel when returning after many years to the scenes of their childhood. The self-discipline which was so much a part of Pandion training usually made Sparhawk suppress any form of emotionalism, but, despite his best efforts, certain things sometimes touched him deeply.

About midmorning, Kurik called ahead. ‘There’s a rider coming up behind us,’ he reported. ‘He’s pushing his horse hard.’

Sparhawk reined in and wheeled Faran around. ‘Kalten,’ he said sharply.

‘Right,’ the big blond man replied, thrusting his cloak aside so that his sword hilt was clear.

Sparhawk also cleared his sword, and the two of them rode several hundred yards back along the road to intercept the oncoming horseman.

Their precautions, however, proved unnecessary. The rider was the young novice, Berit. He was wrapped in a plain cloak, and his hands and wrists were chapped by the morning chill. His horse, however, was lathered and steaming. He reined in and approached them at a walk. ‘I have a message for you from Lord Vanion, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said.