The Diamond Throne (53 page)

‘The usual way.’

‘But she can’t talk-or at least she doesn’t. How did she cast the spell?’

‘With her pipes, Sparhawk. I thought you knew that. She doesn’t speak the spell, she plays it on her pipes.’

‘Is it possible?’ His tone was incredulous.

‘You just saw her do it.’

‘Could you do it that way?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m just a bit tone deaf, Sparhawk,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t really tell one note
from another, except in a general sort of way, and the melody has to be very precise. Shall we go, then?’

They rode up through the streets of Vardenais from the harbour.

‘Are we still invisible?’ Kurik asked.

‘We’re not actually invisible, Kurik,’ Sephrenia replied, wrapping her cloak about Flute, who still played the drowsy tune on her pipes. ‘If we were, we wouldn’t be able to see each other.’

‘I don’t understand at all.’

‘The soldiers knew we were there, Kurik. They stepped out of the way for us, remember? They just chose not to pay any attention to us.’

‘Chose?’

‘Perhaps that was the wrong word. Let’s say they were encouraged not to.’

They rode out through the north gate of Vardenais without being stopped by the guards posted there and were soon on the high road to Cimmura. The weather had changed since they had left Elenia many weeks before. The chill of winter had gone now, and the first budding leaves of spring tipped the branches of the trees at the sides of the road. Peasants plodded across their fields behind their ploughs, turning over the rich black loam. The rains had passed, and the sky was bright blue, dotted here and there with puffy white clouds. The breeze was fresh and warm, and the earth smelled of growth and renewal. They had discarded their Rendorish robes before leaving the ship, but Sparhawk still found his mail coat and padded tunic uncomfortably warm.

Kurik was looking out at the freshly ploughed fields they passed with an appraising eye. ‘I hope the boys have finished with the ploughing at home,’ he said. ‘I’d hate to have that chore in front of me when I get back.’

‘Aslade will see to it that they get it done,’ Sparhawk assured him.

‘You’re probably right.’ Kurik made a wry face. ‘When you get right down to it, she’s a better farmer than I am.’

‘Women always are,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘They’re more in tune with the moon and the seasons. In Styricum, women always manage the fields.’

‘What do the men do?’

‘As little as possible.’

It took them nearly five days to reach Cimmura, and they arrived on an early spring afternoon. Sparhawk reined in atop a hill a mile or so west of town. ‘Can she do it again?’ he asked Sephrenia.

‘Can who do what again?’

‘Flute Can she make people ignore us again?’

‘I don’t know Why don’t you ask her?’

‘Why don’t
you
ask her? I don’t think she likes me.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea? She adores you.’ Sephrenia leaned forward slightly and spoke in Styric to the little girl who rested against her

Flute nodded and made an obscure kind of circling gesture with one hand.

‘What did she say?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Approximately that the chapterhouse is on the other side of Cimmura. She suggests that we circle the city rather than ride through the streets.’

‘Approximately?’

‘It loses a great deal in translation.’

‘All right. We’ll do it her way, then. I definitely don’t want Annias to find out that we’re back in Cimmura.’

They rode on around the city, passing through open fields and sparse woodlands and keeping about a mile back from the city wall. Cimmura was not an attractive city, Sparhawk decided. The peculiar combination of its
location and the prevailing weather seemed to capture the smoke from its thousands of chimneys and to hold it in a continual pall just above the roof tops. That lowering cloud of smoke made the place look perpetually grimy.

They finally reached a thicket about a half-mile from the walls of the chapterhouse. Once again the land was dotted with peasants at work, and the road leading out from the east gate was alive with brightly dressed travellers.

‘Tell her it’s time,’ Sparhawk said to Sephrenia. ‘I’d imagine that a fair number of those people out there are working for Annias.’

‘She knows, Sparhawk. She’s not stupid.’

‘No. Only a little flighty.’

Flute made a face at him and began to play her pipes. It was that same lethargic, almost drowsy tune she had played in Vardenais.

They started across the field towards the few houses clustered outside the chapterhouse. Though he was certain that the people they passed would pay no attention to them, Sparhawk instinctively tensed at each encounter.

‘Relax, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia ordered him crisply ‘You’re making it harder for her’

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Habit, I guess.’ With some effort he pulled a kind of calm about himself.

A number of workmen were repairing the road that led up to the gates of the fortress.

‘Spies,’ Kurik grunted.

‘How do you know that?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Look at the way they’re laying the cobblestones, Sparhawk. They haven’t got the faintest idea of what they’re doing.’

‘It does look a bit slipshod, doesn’t it?’ Sparhawk agreed, looking critically at the section of newly laid stone as they rode past the unseeing road gang.

‘Annias must be getting old,’ Kurik said. ‘He never used to be this obvious.’

‘He’s got a lot on his mind, I guess.’

They clattered up the road to the drawbridge and then on across it and into the courtyard, passing the indifferent quartet of armoured knights on guard at the gate.

A young novice was drawing water from the well in the centre of the courtyard, laboriously winding the creaking windlass mounted at the wellmouth. With a final little flourish, Flute took her pipes from her lips.

The novice choked out a startled oath and reached for his sword. The windlass squealed as the bucket plummeted down again.

‘Easy, brother,’ Sparhawk told him, dismounting.

‘How did you get past the gate?’ the novice exclaimed.

‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ Kurik told him, swinging down from his gelding’s back.

‘Forgive me, Sir Sparhawk,’ the novice stammered. ‘You startled me’

‘It’s all right,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘Has Kalten got back yet?’

‘Yes, my Lord. He and the knights from the other orders arrived some time back.’

‘Good. Do you know where I might find them?’

‘I believe they’re with Lord Vanion in his study’

‘Thank you. Would you see to our horses?’

‘Of course, Sir Sparhawk.’

They entered the chapterhouse and went down the central corridor towards the south end of the building. Then they climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the tower

‘Sir Sparhawk,’ one of the young knights on guard at the top said respectfully, ‘I’ll advise Lord Vanion that you’ve arrived.’

‘Thank you, brother,’ Sparhawk said.

The knight tapped on the door, then opened it. ‘Sir Sparhawk is here, my Lord,’ he reported to Vanion.

‘It’s about time,’ Sparhawk heard Kalten’s voice inside the room.

‘Please go in, Sir Sparhawk,’ the young knight said, stepping aside and bowing.

Vanion sat at the table. Kalten, Bevier, Ulath and Tynian had risen from their seats and come forward to greet Sparhawk and the others. Berit and Talen sat on a bench in the corner.

‘When did you get in?’ Sparhawk asked as Kalten roughly clasped his hand.

‘Early last week,’ the blond man replied. ‘What kept you?’

‘We had a long way to go, Kalten,’ Sparhawk protested. Wordlessly he gripped the hands of Tynian, Ulath, and Bevier. Then he bowed to Vanion. ‘My Lord,’ he said.

‘Sparhawk,’ Vanion nodded.

‘Did you get my messages?’

‘If there were only two, I did.’

‘Good. Then you’re fairly well up-to-date on what’s going on down there’

Vanion, however, was looking closely at Sephrenia. ‘You’re not looking too well, little mother,’ he said.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she said, passing one hand wearily across her eyes.

‘Sit down,’ Kalten said, holding a chair for her.

‘Thank you.’

‘What happened in Dabour, Sparhawk?’ Vanion asked, his eyes intent.

‘We found that physician,’ Sparhawk reported. ‘As it turns out, he
did
in fact cure some people who’d been poisoned with the same thing Annias gave the Queen.’

‘Thank God!’ Vanion said, letting his breath out explosively

‘Don’t be too quick about that, Vanion,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘We know what the cure is, but we’ve got to find it before we can use it.’

‘I don’t quite follow you.’

‘The poison is extremely potent. The only way to counteract it is through the use of magic.’

‘Did the physician give you the spell he used?’

‘Apparently there’s no spell involved. There are a number of objects in the world that have enormous power. We have to find one of them.’

He frowned. ‘That could take time,’ he said. ‘People usually hide those things to keep them from being stolen.’

‘I know’

‘Are you absolutely certain you’ve identified the right poison?’ Kalten asked Sparhawk.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘I got confirmation from Martel,’ he said.

‘Martel? You actually gave him time to talk before you killed him?’

‘I didn’t kill him. The time wasn’t right.’

‘Any time is right for that, Sparhawk.’

‘I felt that way myself when I first saw him, but Sephrenia persuaded the two of us to put away our swords.’

‘I’m terribly disappointed in you, Sephrenia,’ Kalten said.

‘You almost had to have been there to understand,’ she replied.

‘Why didn’t you just get whatever it was the physician used to cure those other people?’ Tynian asked Sparhawk.

‘Because he ground it to a powder, mixed it with wine, and had them drink it.’

‘Is that the way it’s supposed to be done?’

‘No, as a matter of fact, it’s not. Sephrenia spoke to him rather sharply about that.’

‘I think you’d better start at the beginning,’ Vanion said.

‘Right,’ Sparhawk agreed, taking a chair. Briefly he told them about Arasham’s ‘holy talisman’ and about the ploy that had got them into the old man’s tent.

‘You were being awfully free with the name of my king, Sparhawk,’ Tynian objected.

‘We don’t necessarily need to tell him about it, do we?’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I needed to use the name of a kingdom a long way from Rendor. Arasham probably has only the vaguest idea of where Deira is.’

‘Why didn’t you say you were from Thalesia, then?’

‘I doubt if Arasham’s ever heard of Thalesia. Anyway, the “holy talisman” turned out to be a fake. Martel was there and he was trying to persuade the old lunatic to postpone his uprising until the time of the election of the new Archprelate.’ He went on to describe the means by which he had overturned the white-haired man’s scheme.

‘My friend,’ Kalten said admiringly, ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Thank you, Kalten,’ Sparhawk said modestly ‘It did turn out rather well, I thought.’

‘He’s been patting himself on the back ever since we came out of Arasham’s tent,’ Sephrenia said. She looked at Vanion. ‘Kerris died,’ she told him sadly.

Vanion nodded, his face sombre. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘How did you find out?’

‘His ghost came to us to deliver his sword to Sephrenia,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Vanion, we’re going to have to do something about that. She can’t go on carrying all those swords and everything they symbolize. She gets weaker every time somebody gives her another one.’

‘I’m all right, Sparhawk,’ she insisted.

‘I hate to contradict you, little mother, but you’re definitely
not
all right. It’s all you can do right now to hold up your head. About two more of those swords is all it’s going to take to put you on your knees.’

‘Where are the swords now?’ Vanion asked.

‘We brought a mule with us,’ Kurik replied. ‘They’re in a box in his pack.’

‘Would you get them for me, please?’

‘Right away,’ Kurik said, going to the door.

‘What have you got in mind, Vanion?’ Sephrenia asked suspiciously.

‘I’m going to take the swords.’ He shrugged. ‘And everything that goes with them.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Oh, yes, I can, Sephrenia. I was in the throne room, too, and I know which spell to use. You don’t have to be the one who has to carry them. Any one of us who were there can do it.’

‘You’re not strong enough, Vanion.’

‘When you get down to it, I could carry you and everything you’ve got in your arms, my teacher, and right now you’re more important than I am.’

‘But’ she started.

He held up his hand. ‘The discussion is ended, Sephrenia. I am the preceptor. With or without your permission, I’m taking those swords away from you.’

‘You don’t know what it means, my dearest one. I won’t let you.’ Her face was suddenly wet with tears, and she wrung her hands in an uncharacteristic display of human emotion. ‘I won’t let you.’

‘You can’t stop me,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘I can cast the spell without your help, if I have to. If you want to keep your spells a secret, little mother, you shouldn’t chant them out loud, you know. You should know by now that I’ve got a very retentive memory.’

She stared at him. ‘I’m shocked at you, Vanion,’ she declared. ‘You were not so unkind when you were young.’

‘Life is filled with these little disappointments, isn’t it?’ he said urbanely.

‘I can stop you,’ she cried, still wringing her hands. ‘You forget just how much stronger I am than you are.’ There was a shrill triumph in her voice.

‘Of course you are. That’s why I’d have to call in help. Could you deal with ten knights all chanting in unison? – or fifty? – or half a thousand?’

‘That’s unfair!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did not know that you would go this far, Vanion and I trusted you.’

‘And well you should, dear one,’ he said, assuming suddenly the superior role, ‘for I will not permit you to make this sacrifice. I’ll force you to submit to me, because you know I’m right. You’ll release the burden to me, because you know that what you have to do is more important than anything else right now, and you’ll sacrifice anything to do what we both know must be done.’