Several days later, Sir Tynian and Sir Ulath arrived, riding together. Tynian was a good-humoured Alcione Knight from Deira, the kingdom lying to the north of Elenia. His broad, round face was open and friendly. His shoulders and chest were powerfully muscled as the result of years of bearing Deiran armour, the heaviest in the world. Over his massive armour he wore a sky-blue surcoat. Ulath was a hulking Genidian Knight, fully a head taller than Sparhawk. He did not wear armour, but rather a plain mail shirt and a simple conical helmet. Covering his shirt, he wore a green surcoat. He carried a large round shield and a heavy war axe. Ulath was a silent, withdrawn man who seldom spoke. His blond hair hung in two braids down his back.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Tynian said to Sparhawk and Kalten as he dismounted in the courtyard of the chapterhouse. He looked at them closely. ‘You would be Sir Sparhawk,’ he said. ‘Our preceptor said that you’d broken your nose sometime.’ He grinned then. ‘It’s all right, Sparhawk. It doesn’t interfere with your kind of beauty.’
‘I’m going to like this man,’ Kalten said.
‘And you must be Kalten,’ Tynian said. He thrust out his hand, and Kalten took it before he realized that the Alcione was holding a dead mouse concealed in his palm. With a startled oath, he jerked his hand back. Tynian howled with laughter.
‘I think I could get to like him as well,’ Sparhawk noted.
‘My name is Tynian,’ the Alcione Knight introduced himself. ‘My silent friend there is Ulath from Thalesia. He caught up with me a few days ago. Hasn’t spoken ten words since then.’
‘You talk enough for both of us,’ Ulath grunted, sliding out of his saddle.
‘That’s God’s own truth,’ Tynian admitted. ‘I have this overwhelming fondness for the sound of my own voice.’
Ulath thrust out his huge hand. ‘Sparhawk,’ he said.
‘No mice?’ Sparhawk asked.
A faint smile touched Ulath’s face as they clasped hands. Then he shook hands with Kalten, and the four of them went up the steps into the chapterhouse.
‘Has Bevier arrived yet?’ Tynian asked Kalten.
‘A few days back. Have you ever met him?’
‘Once. Our preceptor and I made a formal visit to Larium, and we were introduced to the Cyrinics in their motherhouse there. I found him to be a bit stiff-necked and formal.’
‘That hasn’t changed much.’
‘Didn’t think it had. Exactly what are we going to do down in Cammoria? Preceptor Darellon can be infuriatingly close-mouthed on occasion.’
‘Let’s wait until Bevier joins us,’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘I get the feeling that he might be a little touchy, so let’s not offend him by talking business out of his presence.’
‘Good thinking, Sparhawk. This show of unity could fall apart on us if Bevier starts sulking. I’ll have to admit that he can be a good man in a fight, though. Is he still carrying that Lochaber?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Kalten said.
‘Gruesome thing, isn’t it? I saw him practising with it at Larium. He cut the top off a post as thick as my leg with one swipe at a full gallop. I get the feeling that he could ride through a platoon of foot-troops and leave a trail of loose heads behind him ten yards wide.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Sparhawk said.
‘If that’s your attitude, Sparhawk, you’re going to take all the fun out of this excursion.’
‘I am going to like him,’ Kalten said.
Sir Bevier joined them in Nashan’s study after the completion of noon service in the chapel. As closely as Sparhawk could determine, Bevier had not missed service once since his arrival.
‘All right then,’ Sparhawk said, rising to his feet when they were all assembled, ‘this is sort of where we stand. Annias, the Primate of Cimmura, has his eyes on the Archprelate’s throne here in Chyrellos. He controls the Elenian Royal Council, and they’re giving him money out of the royal treasury. He’s trying to use that money to buy enough votes in the Hierocracy to win election after Cluvonus dies. The preceptors of the four orders want to block him.’
‘No decent churchman would accept money for his vote,’ Bevier said, his voice verging on outrage.
‘I’ll grant that,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Unfortunately, many churchmen are far from decent. Let’s be honest about it, gentlemen. There’s a wide streak of corruption in the Elene Church. We might wish it were different, but we have to face the facts. Many of those votes are for sale. Now—and this is important—Queen Ehlana is unwell; otherwise, she wouldn’t allow Annias to have access to the treasury. The preceptors agree that the best way to stop Annias is to find some way to cure the Queen and put her back in power. That’s why we’re going to Borrata. There are physicians at the university there who might be able to determine the nature of her illness and find a cure for it.’
‘Are we taking your Queen with us?’ Tynian asked.
‘No. That’s quite impossible.’
‘It’s going to be a little hard for the physicians to find out much then, isn’t it?’
Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Sephrenia, the Pandion instructor in the secrets, will be going with us. She can describe Queen Ehlana’s symptoms in great detail and she can raise an image of the Queen if the physicians need a closer look.’
‘Seems a bit roundabout,’ Tynian noted, ‘but if that’s the way we have to do it, then that’s the way we’ll do it.’
There’s a great deal of unrest in Cammoria right now,’ Sparhawk went on. ‘The central kingdoms are all infested with Zemoch agents, and they’re trying to stir up as much trouble as they can. Not only that, Annias is fairly certain to guess at what we’re trying to do, so he’ll try to interfere.’
‘Borrata’s a long way from Cimmura, isn’t it?’ Tynian asked. ‘Does Primate Annias have so long an arm?’
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk said, ‘he does. There’s a renegade Pandion in Cammoria who sometimes works for Annias. His name is Martel, and he’s likely to try to stop us.’
‘Only once,’ Ulath grunted.
‘Let’s not go out of our way looking for a fight, though,’ Sparhawk cautioned. ‘Our main task is to get Sephrenia safely to Borrata and back. There’s been at least one attempt on her life already.’
‘We’ll want to discourage that,’ Tynian said. ‘Are we taking anybody else with us?’
‘My squire, Kurik,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘and probably a young Pandion novice named Berit. He shows some promise, and Kurik’s going to need somebody along to help him care for the horses.’ He thought a moment. ‘I think we’ll take a boy along as well,’ he said.
‘Talen?’ Kalten sounded surprised at that. ‘Is that really a good idea, Sparhawk?’
‘Chyrellos is corrupt enough already. I don’t think it’s a good idea to turn that little thief loose in the streets. Besides, I think we may find use for his specialized talents. The only other person going with us will be a little girl named Flute.’
Kalten stared at him in astonishment.
‘Sephrenia won’t leave her behind,’ Sparhawk explained, ‘and I’m not sure she can be left behind. You remember how easily she got out of that nunnery in Arcium.’
‘You’ve got a point there, I guess,’ Kalten conceded.
‘A very straightforward presentation, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier said approvingly. ‘When will we leave?’
‘First thing in the morning,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s a long way to Borrata, and the Archprelate isn’t getting younger. Patriarch Dolmant says that he could die at any time, and that’s when Annias will start to move.’
‘We must make our preparations then,’ Bevier said, rising to his feet. ‘Will you gentlemen be joining me in the chapel for evening service?’ he asked.
Kalten sighed. ‘I suppose we should,’ he said. ‘We are Church Knights, after all.’
‘And a bit of God’s help wouldn’t hurt, would it?’ Tynian added.
Late that afternoon, however, a company of church soldiers arrived at the gates o
f the chapterhouse. ‘I have a summons from the Patriarch Makova for you and your companions, Sir Sparhawk,’ the captain in charge of the soldiers said when Sparhawk and the others came down into the courtyard. ‘He would speak with you in the Basilica at once.’
‘We’ll get our horses,’ Sparhawk said. He led the rest of the knights into the stables. Once inside, he swore irritably.
‘Trouble?’ Tynian asked him.
‘Makova’s a supporter of Primate Annias,’ Sparhawk replied, leading Faran out of his stall. ‘I’ve got a strong suspicion that he’s going to try to hinder us.’
‘We must respond to his summons, however,’ Bevier said, swinging his saddle up onto his horse’s back. ‘We are Church Knights and must obey the commands of a member of the Hierocracy, no matter what his affiliation.’
‘And there’s that company of soldiers out there, too,’ Kalten added. ‘I’d say that Makova doesn’t take too many chances.’
‘Surely he doesn’t think we’d refuse?’ Bevier said.
‘You don’t know Sparhawk that well yet,’ Kalten told him. ‘He can be contrary at times.’
‘Well, we don’t have any choice in the matter,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go to the Basilica and see what the Patriarch has to say to us.’
They led their horses out into the courtyard and mounted. At a crisp command from the captain, the soldiers formed up around them.
The square in front of the Basilica was strangely deserted as Sparhawk and his friends dismounted.
‘Looks to me as if they’re expecting trouble,’ Kalten noted as they started up the broad marble stairs.
When they entered the vast nave of the church, Bevier went down on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.
The captain and a squad of his soldiers entered behind him. ‘We must not keep the Patriarch waiting,’ he said. There was a certain arrogant tone in his voice that irritated Sparhawk for some reason. He muffled that feeling, however, and piously dropped to his knees beside Bevier. Kalten grinned and also knelt. Tynian nudged Ulath, and they, too, went down on their knees.
‘I said—’ the captain began, his voice rising slightly.
‘We heard you, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said to him. ‘We’ll be with you presently.’
‘But—’
‘You can wait over there. We won’t be too long.’
The captain turned and stalked off.
‘Nice touch, Sparhawk,’ Tynian murmured.
‘We are Church Knights, after all,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It won’t hurt Makova to wait awhile. I’m sure he’ll enjoy the anticipation.’
‘I’m sure,’ Tynian agreed.
The five knights remained kneeling for perhaps ten minutes while the captain stalked about impatiently.
‘Have you finished, Bevier?’ Sparhawk asked politely when the Cyrinic unclasped his hands.
‘Yes,’ Bevier answered, his face alight with devotion. ‘I feel cleansed now and at peace with the world.’
‘Try to hang onto that feeling. The Patriarch of Coombe is likely to irritate us all.’ Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘Shall we go then?’
‘Well, finally,’ the captain snapped as they joined him and his men.
Bevier looked at him coldly. ‘Have you any rank, Captain?’ he asked. ‘Aside from your military one, I mean?’
‘I am a marquis, Sir Bevier.’
‘Excellent. If our devotions offend you, I will be more than happy to give you satisfaction. You may have your seconds call upon me at any time. I will be at your complete disposal.’
The captain paled visibly and shrank back. ‘I am merely following my orders, my Lord. I would not dream of giving offence to a Knight of the Church.’
‘Ah,’ Bevier said distantly. ‘Let us proceed then. As you stated so excellently earlier, we must not keep the Patriarch of Coombe waiting.’
The captain led them to a hallway branching out from the nave.
‘Nicely done, Bevier,’ Tynian whispered.
The Cyrinic smiled briefly.
‘There’s nothing like the offer of a yard or so of steel in his belly to remind a man of his manners,’ Kalten added.
The chamber to which the captain led them was grandiose with deep maroon carpeting and drapes and polished marble walls. The lean-faced Patriarch of Coombe sat at a long table reading a parchment. He looked up as they were admitted, his face angry. ‘What took so long?’ he snapped at the captain.
‘The Knights of the Church felt obliged to spend a few moments in devotions before the main altar, your Grace.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
‘May I withdraw, your Grace?’
‘No. Stay It shall fall to you to enforce the dictates I will issue here.’
‘As it please your Grace.’
Makova then looked sternly at the knights. ‘I am told that you gentlemen are planning a foray into Cammoria,’ he said.
‘We haven’t made any secret of it, your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘I forbid it.’
‘Might one ask why, your Grace?’ Tynian asked mildly.
‘No. One may not. The Church Knights are subject to the authority of the Hierocracy. Explanations are not required. You are all to return to the Pandion chapterhouse and you will remain there until it pleases me to send you further instructions.’ He smiled a chill smile. ‘I believe you will all be returning home very shortly.’ Then he drew himself up. That will be all. You have my permission to withdraw. Captain, you will see to it that these knights do not leave the Pandion chapterhouse.’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
They all bowed and silently filed out of the door.
‘That was short, wasn’t it?’ Kalten said as they went back down the corridor with the captain some distance in the lead.
There wasn’t much point in fogging the issue with lame excuses,’ Sparhawk replied.
Kalten leaned towards his friend. ‘Are we going to obey his orders?’ he whispered.
‘No.’
‘Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier gasped, ‘surely you would not disregard the commands of a Patriarch of the Church?’
‘No, not really. All I need is a different set of orders.’
‘Dolmant?’ Kalten guessed.
‘His name does sort of leap to mind, doesn’t it?’
They had, however, no opportunity for side trips. The officious captain insisted upon escorting them directly back to the chapterhouse. ‘Sir Sparhawk,’ he said as they reached the narrow street where the house stood, ‘you will be so good as to advise the governor of your establishment that this gate is to remain closed. No one is to enter or leave.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ Sparhawk replied. Then he nudged Faran and rode on into the courtyard.
‘I didn’t think he’d actually seal the gate,’ Kalten muttered. ‘How are we going to get word to Dolmant?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Sparhawk said.
Later, as twilight crept in over the city, Sparhawk paced along the parapet surmounting the wall of the chapterhouse, glancing from time to time down into the street outside.
‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik’s gruff voice came from the yard below, ‘are you up there?’
‘Yes. Come on up.’
There was the sound of footsteps on the stone stairs leading up to the parapet. ‘You wanted to see us?’ Kurik asked as he, Berit, and Talen came up out of the shadows clotting the stairway.
‘Yes. There’s a company of church soldiers outside. They’re blocking the gate, and I need to get a message to Dolmant. Any ideas?’
Kurik scratched his head as he mulled it over.
‘Give me a fast horse and I can ride through them,’ Berit offered.
‘He’ll make a good knight,’ Talen said. ‘Knights love to charge, I’m told.’
Berit looked sharply at the boy.
‘No hitting,’ Talen said, shrinking back. ‘We agreed that there wasn’t going to be any more hitting. I pay attention to the lessons, and you don’t hit me any more
.’
‘Have you got a better idea?’ Berit asked.
‘Several.’ Talen looked over the wall. ‘Are the soldiers patrolling the streets outside the walls?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk said.
‘That’s not really a problem, but it might have been easier if they weren’t.’ Talen pursed his lips as he thought it over. ‘Berit,’ he said, ‘are you any good with a bow?’
‘I’ve been trained,’ the voice said a bit stiffly.
‘That’s not what I asked. I said are you any good?’
‘I can hit a mark at a hundred paces.’
Talen looked at Sparhawk. ‘Don’t you people have anything better to do?’ he asked. Then he looked at Berit again. ‘You see that stable over there?’ he asked, pointing across the street. ‘The one with the thatched roof?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you get an arrow into the thatch?’
‘Easily.’
‘Maybe training pays off after all.’
‘How many months did you practise cutting purses?’ Kurik asked pointedly.
‘That’s different, father. There’s a profit involved in that.’
‘Father?’ Berit sounded astonished.
‘It’s a long story,’ Kurik told him.
‘Any man in the world listens to a bell that rings for any reason whatsoever,’ Talen said, affecting a school-teacherish tone, ‘and no man can possibly avoid gawking at a fire. Can you lay your hands on a length of rope, Sparhawk?’
‘How long a length?’
‘Long enough to reach the street. Here’s how it goes. Berit wraps his arrow with tinder and sets fire to it. Then he takes a shot at that thatched roof. The soldiers will all run to this street to watch the fun. That’s when I go down the rope on the far side of the building. I can be out on the street in less than a minute with no one the wiser.’
‘You can’t set fire to a man’s stable,’ Kurik objected, sounding horrified.
‘They’ll put it out, Kurik,’ Talen said in a patient tone. ‘They’ll have lots of warning, because we’ll all stand up here shouting “Fire!” at the top of our voices. Then I’ll shinny down the rope on the far wall and be five streets away before the excitement dies down. I know where Dolmant’s house is, and I can tell him whatever you want him to know.’