The Diamond Throne

  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.

  PART TWO

  Chyrellos

  Chapter 10

  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 Pandio
n 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.’

  Komier laughed. ‘Many things imperil the souls of Elenes, my Lady,’ he said. ‘I felt a certain wrench in mine the first time I contacted the Troll-Gods. I gather that this Martel of yours dabbled in things he should not have?’

  Sephrenia sighed again. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘He came to me asking that I instruct him in the forbidden secrets. He was very intense about it. That’s one of Martel’s characteristics. I refused him, of course, but there are renegade Styrics, even as there are renegade Pandions. Martel came from a wealthy family, so he could afford to pay for the instruction he wanted.’

  ‘Who found him out?’ Darellon asked.

  ‘I did,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I was riding from Cimmura to Demos. That was shortly before King Aldreas sent me into exile. There’s a patch of woods three leagues this side of Demos. It was just about dusk when I passed those woods, and I saw a strange light back among the trees. I went to investigate and saw Martel. He’d raised some kind of glowing creature. Its light was very bright—so bright that I couldn’t make out its face.’

  ‘I don’t think you’d have wanted to see its face, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia told him.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘Anyway, Martel was speaking to the creature in Styric, commanding it to do his bidding.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary,’ Komier said. ‘We’ve all raised spirits or ghosts of one kind or another from time to time.’

  ‘This was not precisely a spirit, Lord Komier,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘It was a Damork. The Elder Gods of Styricum created them to serve as slaves to their will. The Damorks have extraordinary powers, but they are soulless. A God can summon them from that unimaginable place where they dwell and control them. For a mortal to attempt that, however, is sheer folly. No mortal can control a Damork. What Martel had done is absolutely forbidden by all of the Younger Gods.’

  ‘And the Elder Gods?’ Darellon asked.

  ‘The Elder Gods have no rules, my Lord—only whims and desires.’

  ‘Sephrenia,’ Dolmant pointed out, ‘Martel is an Elene. Perhaps he felt no obligations to observe the prohibitions of the Gods of Styricum.’

  ‘So long as one is practising the arts of Styricum, one is subject to the Styric Gods, Dolmant,’ she replied.

  ‘I wonder if perhaps it might have been a mistake to arm the Church Knights with Styric magic as well as conventional weapons,’ Dolmant mused. ‘We seem to be dabbling in an area best left untapped.’

  That decision was made over nine hundred years ago, your Grace,’ Abriel reminded him, coming back to the table, ‘and if the Knights of the Church had not been proficient in magic, the Zemochs would have won that battle on the plains of Lamorkand.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Dolmant said.

  ‘Go on with your story, Sparhawk,’ Komier suggested.

  ‘There’s not too much more, my Lord. I didn’t know what the Damork was until Sephrenia told me about it later, but I knew that it was something we were forbidden to contact. After a while, the thing vanished, and I rode in to talk with Martel. We were friends, and I wanted to warn him that what he was doing was prohibited, but he seemed almost mad somehow. He shrieked at me and told me to mind my own business. That didn’t leave me any choice. I rode on to our motherhouse at Demos and reported what I’d seen to Vanion and Sephrenia. She told us what the creature was and how dangerous it was to have it loose in the world. Vanion ordered me to take a number of men and to apprehend Martel and to bring him to the motherhouse for questioning. He went completely wild when we approached him, and he went to his sword. Martel’s very good to begin with, and his madness made him all the more savage. I lost a couple of very close friends that day. We finally managed to overpower him and we dragged him back to the motherhouse in chains.’

  ‘By the ankles, as I recall,’ Kalten added. ‘Sparhawk can be very direct when he’s irritated.’ He smiled at his friend. ‘You didn’t endear yourself to him by doing it that way, Sparhawk,’ he said.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to. He’d just killed two of my friends, and I wanted to give him plenty of reasons to accept my challenge when Vanion was finished with him.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Vanion took up the story, ‘when they brought Martel back to Demos, I confronted him. He didn’t even try to deny what he’d been doing. I ordered him to stop practising the forbidden secrets, and he defied me I had no choice but to expel him from the order at that point. I stripped him of his knighthood and his armour and turned him out of the front gate.’

  ‘That could have been a mistake,’ Komier grunted. ‘I’d have had him killed. Did he raise that thing again?’

  Vanion nodded. ‘Yes, but Sephrenia appealed to the Younger Gods of Styricum and they exorcized it. Then they stripped Martel of the most significant of his powers. He went away weeping and swearing revenge upon us all. He’s still dangerous, but at least he can’t summon up horrors any more. He left Elenia and he’s been hiring his sword out to the highest bidder in other parts of the world for the past ten or twelve years.’

  ‘He’s just a common mercenary then?’ Darellon asked. The slender Alcione Preceptor had an intent look on his narrow face.

  ‘Not quite common, my Lord,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘He’s had Pandion training. He could have been the very best of us, and he’s very clever. He has wide contacts with mercenaries all over Eosia. He can raise an army at a moment’s notice a
nd he’s totally ruthless. I don’t believe that Martel believes in anything any more.’

  ‘What does he look like?’ Darellon asked.

  ‘A little bigger than medium size,’ Kalten replied. ‘He’s about the same age as Sparhawk and me, but he’s got white hair—he has had since he was in his twenties.’

  ‘I think we might all want to keep an eye out for him,’ Abriel suggested. ‘Who’s the other one—Adus?’

  ‘Adus is an animal,’ Kalten told him. ‘After Martel was expelled from the Pandions, he recruited Adus and a man named Krager to help him in his activities. Adus is a Pelosian, I think or maybe a Lamork. He can barely talk, so his accent is a little hard to identify. He’s a total savage, devoid of human feelings. He enjoys killing people—slowly—and he’s very good at it.’

  ‘And the other one?’ Komier asked. ‘Krager?’

  ‘Krager’s fairly intelligent,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Basically, he’s a criminal—false coins, extortion, fraud, that sort of thing—but he’s weak. Martel trusts him to perform tasks that Adus wouldn’t be able to understand.’

  ‘What’s the link between Annias and Martel?’ Count Radun asked.

  ‘Probably nothing more than money, my Lord.’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Martel is for hire and he has no strong convictions about anything. There are rumours that he has about a half-ton of gold hidden somewhere.’

  ‘I was right,’ Komier said bluntly ‘You should have killed him, Vanion.’

  ‘I made the offer,’ Sparhawk said, ‘but Vanion said no.’

  ‘I had reasons,’ Vanion said.

  ‘Was there anything significant about the fact that there were Rendors in the party that attacked Count Radun’s house?’ Abriel asked then.

  ‘Probably not,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’ve just come back from Rendor. There’s a pool of mercenaries there in the same way that there is in Pelosia, Lamorkand, and Cammoria. Martel draws on those people whenever he needs men. Rendorish mercenaries have no particular religious convictions, Eshandist or otherwise.’

  ‘Do we have enough evidence against Annias to take before the Hierocracy in Chyrellos?’ Darellon asked.