Domes of Fire

  Sarabian raised one eyebrow questioningly.

  ‘He’s done everything he possibly can to make you inaccessible to us, Sarabian,’ Ehlana explained.

  ‘He was told not to do that,’ Sarabian said bleakly.

  ‘Apparently he didn’t listen, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We have to wade through his people whenever we get near the main palace, and every time one of us so much as sticks his head out of a window, whole platoons of spies start to form up to follow us. Your prime minister doesn’t approve of us, I gather.’

  ‘It rather looks as if I’m going to have to explain some things to the esteemed Pondia Subat,’ Sarabian said. ‘I think he’s forgotten the fact that his office isn’t hereditary – and that his head’s not so firmly attached that I can’t have it removed if it starts to inconvenience me.’

  ‘What charges would you bring against him, Sarabian?’ Ehlana asked curiously.

  ‘Charges? What on earth are you talking about, Ehlana? This is Tamuli. I don’t need charges. I can have his head chopped off if I decide that I don’t like his haircut. I’ll take care of Pondia Subat, my friends. I can promise his complete co-operation from now on – either his or that of his successor. Please continue, Lord Vanion.’

  Vanion pushed on. ‘Patriarch Emban will concentrate his attention on the prime minister,’ he said, ‘whoever he happens to be. Sir Bevier will spend his time with the faculty of the university. Scholars pick up a great deal of information, and governments tend to ignore their findings – until it’s too late. Ulath, Kring and Tynian will observe the general staff of the army – the Tamul high command rather than the Atans. Atan Engessa will cover his own people. Milord Stragen and Talen will serve as liaison with the thieves of Matherion, and Alean and Khalad will circulate among the palace servants. Sephrenia and Zalasta will talk with the local Styric community and Melidere and Sir Berit will charm all the courtiers.’

  ‘Isn’t Sir Berit just a bit young?’ Sarabian asked. ‘My courtiers are a very sophisticated group of people.’

  ‘Sir Berit has some special qualifications, your Majesty.’ Melidere smiled. ‘The younger women of your court – and some not quite so young – will do almost anything for him. He may have to sacrifice his virtue a few times, but he’s a very dedicated young man, so I’m sure we can count on him.’

  Berit blushed. ‘Why do you always have to say things like that, Baroness?’ he asked plaintively.

  ‘I’m only teasing, Berit,’ she said fondly.

  ‘It’s something that men don’t understand, your Majesty,’ Kalten told the emperor. ‘Berit has a strange effect on young women for some reason.’

  ‘Kalten and Mirtai will attend Sparhawk and the queen,’ Vanion continued. ‘We don’t know exactly how far our opponents might be willing to go, so they’ll provide you with some additional protection.’

  ‘And you, Lord Vanion?’ the emperor asked.

  ‘Vanion and Oscagne are going to try to put it all together, Sarabian,’ Ehlana replied. ‘We’ll all bring everything we find directly to them. They’ll sort through it all and isolate the gaps so that we’ll know where to concentrate further efforts.’

  ‘You Elenes are a very methodical people,’ Sarabian noted.

  ‘It’s an outgrowth of their dependency on logic, your Majesty,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘Their plodding search for corroboration is maddening sometimes, but it does get results. A well-trained Elene will spend half a day making observations before he’ll allow himself to admit that it’s raining.’

  ‘Ah,’ Emban said to her, ‘but when an Elene says that it’s raining, you can be absolutely sure that he’s telling you the truth.’

  ‘And what about you, your Highness?’ Sarabian smiled down at the little girl in his lap. ‘What part are you going to play in this grand scheme?’

  ‘I’m supposed to distract you so that you don’t ask too many questions, Sarabian,’ Danae replied quite calmly. ‘Your new friends are going to do things that aren’t really proper, so I’m supposed to keep you from noticing.’

  ‘Danae!’ her mother exclaimed.

  ‘Well, aren’t you? You’re going to lie to people and spy on them and probably kill anybody who gets in your way. Isn’t that what you mean when you use the word “politics”?’

  Sarabian laughed. ‘I think she’s got you there, Ehlana,’ he chortled. ‘Her definition of politics is a little blunt, but it’s very close to the mark. She’s going to make an excellent queen.’

  ‘Thank you, Sarabian,’ Danae said sweetly, kissing his cheek.

  Then Sparhawk felt that sudden chill, and even though he knew it was useless, his hand went to his sword-hilt as the flicker of darkness tugged at the very corner of his vision. He started to swear – half in Elenic and half in Tamul – as he realised that everything they had said had just been revealed to the shadowy presence that had been dogging their steps for all these months.

  CHAPTER 26

  ‘Please take my word for it, your Majesty,’ Zalasta said to the sceptical Sarabian. ‘It was most definitely not a normal phenomenon.’

  ‘You’re the expert, Zalasta,’ Sarabian said dubiously. ‘My instincts all tell me to look for a natural explanation first, though – a cloud passing in front of the sun, perhaps.’

  ‘It’s evening, Sarabian,’ Ehlana pointed out. ‘The sun’s already gone down.’

  ‘That would sort of weaken that particular explanation, wouldn’t it? You’ve all seen this before then?’

  ‘Most of us, your Majesty,’ Oscagne assured him. ‘I even saw it once myself – on shipboard – and there was nothing between me and the sun. I think we’ll have to accept the testimony of our Elene friends here. They’ve had experiences with this particular manifestation before.’

  ‘Stupid,’ Sparhawk muttered.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Sarabian said mildly.

  ‘Sorry, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk apologised. ‘I wasn’t referring to you, of course. It’s our visitor who’s not very intelligent. If you set out to spy on someone, you don’t announce your presence with drum-rolls and trumpet fanfares.’

  ‘He’s done it before, Sparhawk,’ Patriarch Emban reminded him. ‘He put in an appearance in Archimandrite Monsel’s study in Darsas, if you remember.’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t know he’s doing it,’ Kalten suggested. ‘When he first went to work for Martel, Adus used to try to sneak around and spy on people. That’s why Martel had to finally hire Krager.’

  ‘Who’s Adus?’ Sarabian asked.

  ‘A fellow we used to know, your Majesty,’ Kalten replied. ‘He wasn’t of much use as a spy. Everybody for a hundred yards in any direction knew when Adus was around. He didn’t believe in bathing, so he had a distinctive fragrance.’

  ‘Is that at all possible?’ Vanion asked Sephrenia. ‘Could Kalten have actually come up with the right answer?’

  ‘Vanion!’ Kalten objected.

  ‘Sorry, Kalten. That didn’t come out exactly the way I’d intended. Seriously though, Sephrenia, could our visitor be unaware of the shadow he’s casting?’

  ‘Anything’s possible, I suppose, dear one.’

  ‘A visual stink?’ Ulath suggested incredulously.

  ‘I don’t know if I’d use that exact term, but –’ Sephrenia looked at Zalasta. ‘Is it possible?’

  ‘It would explain the phenomenon,’ he replied after pondering the notion for a moment. ‘The Gods are remarkable – not only in the depth of their understanding, but also in their limitations. It could very well be that our visitor doesn’t know that we can smell him when he pays a call – if I may borrow Sir Ulath’s metaphor. He may actually believe that he’s totally invisible to us – that his spying is going unnoticed.’

  Bevier was shaking his head. ‘We always talk about it right after it happens,’ he disagreed. ‘He’d have heard us, so he has to know that he’s giving himself away.’

  ‘Not necessarily, Bevier,’ Kalten disagreed. ‘Adus didn’t know that he sme
lled like a cesspool, and it’s not really the sort of thing one admits to oneself. Maybe this shadow’s the same sort of thing – a kind of socially unacceptable offensiveness, like bad breath or poor table-manners.’

  ‘There’s a fascinating idea,’ Patriarch Emban laughed. ‘We could extrapolate a complete book of divine etiquette from this one single incident.’

  ‘To what purpose, your Grace?’ Oscagne asked him.

  ‘The noblest of purposes, your Excellency – the greater understanding of God. Isn’t that why we’re here?’

  ‘I’m not sure that a dissertation on the table-manners of the Gods would significantly advance the sum of human knowledge, Emban,’ Vanion observed. ‘Might we prevail on your Majesty to smooth our way into the inner circles of your government?’

  ‘Smooth or rough, Lord Vanion,’ Sarabian grinned, ‘I’ll insert you into the ministries. After I’ve straightened Pondia Subat out, I’ll take on the other ministers – one by one or row by row. I think it’s time they all found out just exactly who’s in charge here.’ He suddenly laughed with delight. ‘I’m so glad you decided to stop by, Ehlana. You and your friends have made me realise that I’ve been sitting on absolute power for all these years, and that it’s never occurred to me to use it. I think it’s time to pull it out, dust it off and wave it around just a bit.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Oscagne said, his face suddenly filled with chagrin. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘We got this yere problem, Stragen,’ Caalador drawled in Elenic. ‘These yere yaller brothers o’ ourn ain’t tooken with th’ notion o’ steppin’ ‘cross no social boundaries.’

  ‘Please, Caalador,’ Stragen said, ‘spare me the folksy preamble. Get to the point.’

  ‘T’aint really natch’ral, Stragen.’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  Stragen, Talen and Caalador were meeting in a cellar near the waterfront. It was mid-morning, and the local thieves were beginning to stir. ‘As you’ve already discovered, the brotherhood here in Matherion’s afflicted with a caste system,’ Caalador continued. ‘The thieves’ guild doesn’t talk to the swindlers, and the beggar’s guild doesn’t talk to the whores – except in the line of business, of course – and the murderer’s guild is totally outcast.’

  ‘Now that there’s real on-natch-ral,’ Talen observed.

  ‘Don’t do that, Talen,’ Stragen told him. ‘One of you is bad enough. I couldn’t bear two. Why are the murderers so despised?’

  ‘Because they violate one of the basic precepts of Tamul culture,’ Caalador shrugged. ‘They’re paid assassins actually, and they don’t bow and scrape to their victims before they cut their throats. The concept of courtesy overwhelms Tamuls. They don’t really object to the notion of someone murdering noblemen for hire. It’s the rudeness of it all that upsets them.’ Caalador shook his head. ‘That’s one of the reasons so many Tamul thieves get caught and beheaded. It’s considered impolite to run away.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Talen murmured. ‘It’s worse than we thought, Stragen. If these people don’t talk to each other, we’ll never get any information out of them.’

  ‘I think I warned you not to expect too much here in Matherion, my friends,’ Caalador reminded them.

  ‘Are the rest of the guilds afraid of the murderers?’ Stragen asked.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Caalador replied.

  ‘We’ll start from there then. What’s the general feeling about the emperor?’

  ‘Awe, generally, and a level of adoration that hovers right on the verge of outright worship.’

  ‘Good. Get in touch with the murderers’ guild. When Talen brings you the word, have the cutthroats round up the heads of the other guilds and bring them to the palace.’

  ‘What are we a-fixin’ t’ do here, m’ friend?’

  ‘I’ll speak with the emperor and see if I can persuade him to make a speech to our brothers,’ Stragen shrugged.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’

  ‘Of course not. Tamuls are completely controlled by custom, and one of those customs is that the emperor can suspend customs.’

  ‘Were you able to follow that?’ Caalador asked Talen.

  ‘I think he lost me on that sharp turn right there at the end.’

  ‘Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,’ Caalador said to the blond Thalesian. ‘You’re going to violate every known propriety of the criminal culture here in Matherion by having the murderers kidnap the leaders of the other guilds.’

  ‘Yes,’ Stragen admitted.

  ‘Then you’re going to have them all taken to the palace compound, where they’re absolutely forbidden to go.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you’re going to ask the emperor to make a speech to a group of people whose very existence he’s not even supposed to know about.’

  ‘That’s more or less what I had in mind.’

  ‘And the emperor’s going to command them to suspend aeons-old custom and tradition and start co-operating with each other?’

  ‘Is there some problem with that?’

  ‘No, not really. I just wanted to be sure I had it all down straight in my mind, that’s all.’

  ‘See to it, would you, old boy?’ Stragen asked. ‘I’d probably better go talk with the emperor.’

  Sephrenia sighed. ‘You’re being childish, you know,’ she said.

  Salla’s eyes bulged. ‘How dare you?’ he almost screamed. The Styric elder’s face had gone white.

  ‘You forget yourself, Elder Salla,’ Zalasta told the outraged man. ‘Councillor Sephrenia speaks for the Thousand. Will you defy them? And the Gods they represent?’

  ‘The Thousand are misguided!’ Salla blustered. ‘There can never be an accommodation between Styricum and the pig-eaters!’

  ‘That’s for the Thousand to decide,’ Zalasta told him in a flinty tone.

  ‘But look at what the Elene barbarians have done to us,’ Salla said, his voice choked with outrage.

  ‘You’ve lived out your whole life here in the Styric quarter in Matherion, Elder Salla,’ Zalasta said. ‘You’ve probably never even seen an Elene.’

  ‘I can read, Zalasta.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it. We’re not really here for discussion, however. The High Priestess of Aphrael is conveying the instruction of the Thousand. Like it or not, you’re compelled to obey.’

  Salla’s eyes filled with tears. ‘They’ve murdered us!’ he choked.

  ‘You seem to be in remarkably good condition for a man who’s been murdered, Salla,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘Tell me, was it painful?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Priestess.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ she said, ‘that tiresome Styric compulsion to expropriate pain. Someone on the far side of the world stabs a Styric, and you start to bleed. You sit here in Matherion in protected luxury feeling sorry for yourself and secretly consumed with a gnawing envy that you’re being denied martyrdom. Well, if you want to be a martyr so badly, Salla, I can arrange it for you.’ Sephrenia was coldly angry with this babbling fool. ‘The Thousand has made its decision,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t really have to explain it to you, but I will – so that you can convey the decision to your followers – and you will explain it, Salla. You’ll be very convincing about it, or I’ll replace you.’

  ‘I hold my position for life,’ he declared defiantly.

  ‘Precisely my point.’ Her tone was ominous.

  He stared at her. ‘You wouldn’t!’ he gasped.

  ‘Try me.’ Sephrenia had wanted to say that to someone for years. She found it quite satisfying. ‘It goes like this, Salla – feel free to stop me if I start going too fast for you. The Elenes are savages who are looking for an excuse to kill every Styric they see. If we don’t assist them in this crisis, we’ll be handing them that excuse on a velvet cushion. We will assist them, because if we don’t, they’ll slaughter every Styric on the Eosian continent. We don’t want them to do that, do we?’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Salla
, if you say “but” to me one more time, I’ll obliterate you.’ She was startled to discover just how enjoyable it was to behave like an Elene. ‘I’ve given you the instruction of the Thousand, and the Thousand speaks for the Gods. The matter is not open for discussion, so quit trying to snivel or wriggle your way out of this. You will obey, or you will die. Those are your options. Choose quickly. I’m in a bit of a hurry.’

  Even Zalasta seemed shocked at that.

  ‘Your Goddess is cruel, councillor Sephrenia,’ Salla accused.

  She hit him before she even thought about it, her hand and arm seeming to move all on their own. She had spent generations with the Pandion Knights, and she knew how to get her shoulder behind the blow. It was more than an ineffectual slap. She caught him solidly on the point of the chin with the heel of her hand, and he reeled back, his eyes glazed.

  Sephrenia began to intone the words of the deadly incantation, her hands moving quite openly in the accompanying gestures.

  ‘I won’t do that, Sephrenia!’ Aphrael’s voice rang sharply in her mind.

  ‘I know,’ Sephrenia threw back the thought. ‘I’m just trying to get his attention, that’s all.’

  Salla gasped as he realised what she was doing. Then he screamed and fell to his knees, blubbering and begging for mercy.

  ‘Will you do as I have commanded you to do?’ she snapped.

  ‘Yes, Priestess! Yes! Please don’t kill me!’

  ‘I have suspended the spell, but I have not cancelled it. I can finish it at any time. Your heart lies in my fist, Salla. Keep that firmly in mind the next time you feel an urge to insult my Goddess. Now get up and go do as you’re told. Come along, Zalasta. The smell of self-pity in here nauseates me.’