The Ruby Knight (10 page)

‘What precisely did you do back there, Madame?' Ortzel was saying to Sephrenia. ‘I was in the chapel, and so I did not see what happened.'

‘A bit of deception is all, Your Grace,' she replied. ‘Count Gerrich thought he saw your brother and the rest of us escaping. He gave chase.'

‘That's all?' He looked surprised. ‘You didn't -' He left it hanging.

‘Kill anybody? No. I strongly disapprove of killing.'

‘That's one thing we agree about anyway. You're a very strange woman, Madame. Your morality seems to coincide rather closely with that laid down by the true faith. I would not have expected that from a heathen. Have you ever given any thought to conversion?'

She laughed. ‘You too, Your Grace? Dolmant's been trying to convert me for years now. No, Ortzel. I'll remain faithful to my Goddess. I'm far too old to change religions at this stage in my life.'

‘Old, Madame? You?'

‘You wouldn't believe it, Your Grace,' Sparhawk told him.

‘You have all given me much to consider,' Ortzel said. ‘I have followed what I perceived to be the letter of Church doctrine. Perhaps I should look beyond that
perception and seek guidance from God.' He walked a little way upstream, his face lost in thought.

‘It's a step,' Kalten muttered to Sparhawk.

‘A fairly big one, I'd say.'

Tynian had been standing at the edge of the shallow ford looking thoughtfully towards the west. ‘I have an idea, Sparhawk,' he said.

‘I'm willing to listen.'

‘Gerrich and his soldiers are all searching that forest, and if Sephrenia's right, the Seeker will be unable to give chase for at least a week. There won't be any enemies on the other side of this river.'

‘That's true, I suppose. We should probably have a look around on the other side before we get overconfident, though.'

‘All right. That's the safest way, I suppose. What I'm getting at is that if there aren't any troops over there, it won't take more than a couple of us to escort His Grace safely to Chyrellos while the rest of us go on to Lake Randera. If things are quiet, we don't all have to ride to the Holy City.'

‘He's got a good point, Sparhawk,' Kalten agreed.

‘I'll think about it,' Sparhawk said. ‘Let's go on across and have a look around before we make any decisions.'

They remounted and splashed on across the shallow ford. There was a thicket on the far side. ‘It's going to get dark soon, Sparhawk,' Kurik said, ‘and we're going to have to make camp. Why don't we hole up in that thicket for the night. Once it gets completely dark, we can come out and look for campfires. No group of soldiers is going to set up for the night without building fires, and we'll be able to see them. That would be a lot easier and faster than riding up and down the river all day tomorrow trying to flush them out.'

‘Good idea. Let's do it that way then.'

They made camp for the night in the centre of the thicket and built only a small cook-fire. By the time they had finished eating, night had fallen over Lamorkand. Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘All right,' he said, ‘let's go and have a look. Sephrenia, you and the children and His Grace stay here out of sight.' He led the way out of the thicket. Once they were clear of the trees, he and his companions fanned out, all of them peering intently into the night. The clouds obscured the moon and stars and made the darkness almost total.

Sparhawk moved around the thicket. On the far side he bumped into Kalten.

‘It's darker than the inside of your boots out here,' Kalten said.

‘Did you see anything?'

‘Not a glimmer. There's a hill on the back side of these trees, though. Kurik's going up to the top to look around.'

‘Good. I'll trust Kurik's eyes any time.'

‘Me too. Why don't you get him knighted, Sparhawk? When you get right down to it, he's better than any of us.'

‘Aslade would kill me. She's not set up to be the wife of a knight.'

Kalten laughed as they moved on, straining their eyes into the blackness.

‘Sparhawk.' Kurik's voice came from not far away.

‘Over here.'

The squire joined them. ‘That's a fairly high hill,' he puffed. ‘The only light I saw was coming from a village a mile or so to the south.'

‘You're sure it wasn't a campfire?' Kalten asked him.

‘Campfires make a different kind of light than lamps shining through a dozen windows, Kalten.'

‘That's true, I suppose.'

‘I suppose that's it, then,' Sparhawk said. He raised his
fingers to his lips and whistled, a signal for the others to return to the camp.

‘What do you think?' Kalten asked as they pushed their way through the stiffly rustling brush towards the centre of the thicket where the dim light of their banked cook-fire was scarcely more than a faint red glow in the darkness.

‘Let's ask His Grace,' Sparhawk replied. ‘It's his neck we'll be risking.' They entered the brush-clogged encampment and Sparhawk pushed back the hood of his cloak. ‘We have a decision to make, Your Grace,' he told the patriarch. ‘The area appears to be deserted. Sir Tynian has suggested that two of us could escort you to Chyrellos in as much safety as the whole group. Our search for Bhelliom must not be delayed if we're to keep Annias off the Archprelate's throne. The choice is up to you, though.'

‘I can go on to Chyrellos alone, Sir Sparhawk. My brother is overly concerned about my well-being. My cassock alone will protect me.'

‘I'd rather not gamble on that, your Grace. You'll recall that I mentioned that something was pursuing us?'

‘Yes. I believe you called it a Seeker.'

‘Exactly. The creature is ill now because of the fumes Sephrenia created, but there's no way to be positive of how long its illness will last. It wouldn't look upon you as an enemy, though. If it should attack, run away. It's unlikely that it would follow you. I think that under the circumstances, though, Tynian's right. Two of us will be enough to ensure your safety.'

‘As you see fit, my son.'

The others had entered the camp during the conversation, and Tynian volunteered immediately.

‘No.' Sephrenia rejected that idea. ‘You're the one most skilled at necromancy. We're going to need you as soon as we reach Lake Randera.'

‘I'll go,' Bevier said. ‘I have a fast horse and can catch up with you at the lake.'

‘I'll go with him,' Kurik offered. ‘If you run into more trouble, Sparhawk, you'll need knights with you.'

‘There's not that much difference between you and a knight, Kurik.'

‘I don't wear armour, Sparhawk,' the squire pointed out. ‘The spectacle of Church Knights charging with lances makes people start thinking about their own mortality. It's a good way to avoid serious fighting.'

‘He's right, Sparhawk,' Kalten said, ‘and if we run into more Zemochs and church soldiers, you're going to need men wearing steel around you.'

‘All right,' Sparhawk agreed. He turned to Ortzel. ‘I want to apologize for having offended Your Grace,' he said. ‘I don't really see that we had much choice, though. If we'd all been forced to stay penned up in your brother's castle, both of our missions would have failed, and the Church could not afford that.'

‘I still do not entirely approve, Sir Sparhawk, but your argument is most cogent. No apology is necessary.'

‘Thank you, Your Grace,' Sparhawk said. ‘Try to get some sleep. You'll be a long time in the saddle tomorrow, I think.' He stepped away from the fire and rummaged through one of the packs until he found his map. Then he motioned to Bevier and Kurik. ‘Ride due west tomorrow,' he told them. ‘Try to get back across the border into Pelosia before dark. Then go south to Chyrellos on that side of the line. I don't think even the most rabid Lamork soldier will violate that boundary and risk a confrontation with Pelosian border patrols.'

‘Sound reasoning,' Bevier approved.

‘When you get to Chyrellos, drop Ortzel off at the Basilica then go and see Dolmant. Tell him what's been going on here and ask him to pass the word on to Vanion
and the other Preceptors. Urge them very strongly to resist the idea of sending the Church Knights out here into the hinterlands to put out the brush-fires Martel's been starting. We're going to need the four orders in Chyrellos if Archprelate Cluvonus dies, and luring them out of the Holy City's what's been behind all of Martel's scheming.'

‘We will, Sparhawk,' Bevier promised.

‘Make the trip as quickly as you can. His Grace appears to be fairly robust, so a little hard riding won't hurt him. The quicker you get across the border into Pelosia, the better. Don't waste any time, but be careful.'

‘You can count on that, Sparhawk,' Kurik assured him.

‘We'll rejoin you at Lake Randera as soon as we can,' Bevier declared.

‘Have you got enough money?' Sparhawk asked his squire.

‘I can get by.' Then Kurik grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. ‘Besides, Dolmant and I are old friends. He's always good for a loan.'

Sparhawk laughed. ‘Get to bed, you two,' he said. ‘I want you and Ortzel on your way to Pelosia at first light in the morning.'

They arose before dawn and sent Bevier and Kurik off to the west with the Patriarch of Kadach riding between them. Sparhawk consulted his map again by the light of their cook-fire. ‘We'll go back across this ford again,' he told the others. ‘There's a larger channel east of here, so we'll probably need to find a bridge. Let's go north. I'd rather not run across any of Count Gerrich's patrols.'

They splashed across the ford after breakfast and angled away from it as a ruddy light to the east indicated that somewhere behind the dreary cloud-cover the sun had risen.

Tynian fell in beside Sparhawk. ‘I don't want to sound
disrespectful,' he said, ‘but I rather hope that the election doesn't fall to Ortzel. I think the Church – and the four orders – would be in for a bad time if he ascends the throne.'

‘He's a good man.'

‘Granted, but he's very rigid. An Archprelate needs to be flexible. Times are changing, Sparhawk, and the Church needs to change with them. I don't think the notion of change would appeal to Ortzel very much.'

‘That's in the hands of the Hierocracy, though, and I'd definitely prefer Ortzel to Annias.'

‘That's God's own truth.'

About mid-morning, they overtook the clattering wagon of a shabby-looking itinerant tinker who was also travelling northwards. ‘What cheer, neighbour?' Sparhawk asked him.

‘Scant cheer, Sir Knight,' the tinker replied glumly. ‘These wars are bad for business. Nobody worries about a leaky pot when his house is under siege.'

‘That's probably very true. Tell me, do you know of a bridge or a ford hereabouts where we can get across that river ahead?'

‘There's a toll bridge a couple of leagues north,' the tinker advised. ‘Where are you bound, Sir Knight?'

‘Lake Randera.'

The tinker's eyes brightened. ‘To search for the treasure?' he asked.

‘What treasure?'

‘Everybody in Lamorkand knows that there's a vast treasure buried somewhere on the old battlefield at the lake. People have been digging there for five hundred years. About all they turn up is rusty swords and skeletons, though.'

‘How did people find out about it?' Sparhawk asked him, sounding casual.

‘It was the oddest thing. The way I understand it, not too long after the battle, people started seeing Styrics digging there. Now, that doesn't really make any sense, does it? What I mean is that everybody knows that Styrics don't pay very much attention to money, and Styric menfolk are very reluctant to pick up shovels. That sort of tool doesn't seem to fit their hands for some reason. At any rate, or so the story goes, people began to wonder just exactly what it was the Styrics were looking for. That's when the rumours started about the treasure. That ground's been ploughed and sifted over a hundred times or more. Nobody's sure what they're looking for, but everybody in Lamorkand goes there once or twice in his lifetime.'

‘Maybe the Styrics know what's buried there.'

‘Maybe so, but no one can talk to them. They run away any time somebody gets near them.'

‘Peculiar. Well, thank you for the information, neighbour. Good day to you.'

They rode on, leaving the tinker's clanking wagon behind. ‘That's gloomy,' Kalten said. ‘Somebody got there with a shovel before we did.'

‘A lot of shovels,' Tynian amended.

‘He's right about one thing, though,' Sparhawk said. ‘I've never known a Styric to be interested enough in money to go out of his way for it. I think we'd better find a Styric village and ask a few questions. Something's going on at Lake Randera that we don't know about, and I don't like surprises.'

The toll bridge was narrow and in some disrepair. A shabby hut stood at its near end with several dirty, hungry-looking children sitting listlessly in front of it. The bridge-tender himself wore a ragged smock, and his unshaven face was gaunt and hopeless. His eyes clouded with disappointment when he saw the armour of the knights. ‘No charge,' he sighed.

‘You'll never make a living that way, friend,' Kalten told him.

‘It's a local regulation, My Lord,' the bridge-tender said unhappily. ‘No charge is made to Church people.'

‘Do very many people cross here?' Tynian asked him.

‘No more than a few a week,' the fellow replied. ‘Hardly enough to make it possible for me to pay my taxes. My children haven't had a decent meal in months.'

‘Are there any Styric villages hereabouts?' Sparhawk asked him.

‘I believe there's one on the other side of the river, Sir Knight – in that cedar forest over there.'

‘Thank you, neighbour,' Sparhawk said, pouring some coins into the startled fellow's hand.

‘I can't charge you to cross, My Lord,' the man objected.

‘The money's not for crossing, neighbour. It's for the information.' Sparhawk nudged Faran and started across the bridge.

As Talen passed the bridge-tender, he leaned over and handed him something. ‘Get your children something to eat,' he said.

‘Thank you, young master,' the man said, tears of gratitude standing in his eyes.

‘What did you give him?' Sparhawk asked.

‘The money I stole from that sharp-eyed fellow back at the ford,' Talen replied.

‘That was very generous of you.'

‘I can always steal more.' The boy shrugged. ‘Besides, he and his children need it more than I do. I've been hungry a few times myself, and I know how it feels.'

Kalten leaned forward in his saddle. ‘You know, there might be some hope for this boy after all, Sparhawk,' he said quietly.

‘It could be a little early to say for sure.'

‘At least it's a start.'

The damp forest on the far side of the river was composed of mossy old cedars with low-swooping green boughs, and the trail leading into it was poorly marked. ‘Well?' Sparhawk said to Sephrenia.

‘They're here,' she told him. ‘They're watching us.'

‘They'll hide when we approach their village, won't they?'

‘Probably. Styrics have little reason to trust armed Elenes. I should be able to persuade at least some of them to come out, though.'

Like all Styric villages, the place was rude. The thatch-roofed huts were scattered haphazardly in a clearing, and there was no street of any kind. As Sephrenia had predicted, there was no one about. The small woman leaned over and spoke briefly to Flute in that Styric dialect Sparhawk did not understand. The little girl nodded, lifted her pipes and began to play.

At first nothing happened.

‘I think I just saw one of them back in the trees,' Kalten said after a few moments.

‘Timid, aren't they?' Talen said.

‘They have reason to be,' Sparhawk told him. ‘Elenes don't treat Styrics very well.'

Flute continued to play, and after a time a white-bearded man in a smock made of unbleached homespun emerged hesitantly from the forest. He put his hands together in front of his chest and bowed respectfully to Sephrenia, speaking to her in Styric. Then he looked at Flute, and his eyes widened. He bowed again, and she gave him an impish little smile.

‘Aged one,' Sephrenia said to him, ‘do you perchance speak the language of the Elenes?'

‘I have a passing familiarity with it, my sister,' he replied.

‘Good. These knights have a few questions, and then we'll leave your village and trouble you no more.'

‘I will answer as best I can.'

‘Some time back,' Sparhawk began, ‘we chanced upon a tinker who told us something a bit disquieting. He said that Styrics have been digging in the battlefield at Lake Randera for centuries, searching for a treasure. That doesn't seem like the sort of thing Styrics would do.'

‘It is not, My Lord,' the old man said flatly. ‘We have no need of treasure, and we would most certainly not violate the graves of those who sleep there.'

‘I thought that might be the case. Have you any idea of who those Styrics might be?'

‘They are not of our kindred, Sir Knight, and they serve a God whom we despise.'

‘Azash?' Sparhawk guessed.

The old man blanched slightly. ‘I will not speak His name aloud, Sir Knight, but you have hit upon my meaning.'

‘Then the men digging at the lake are Zemochs?'

The old man nodded. ‘We have known of their presence there for centuries. We do not go near them, for they are unclean.'

‘I think we'd all agree to that,' Tynian said. ‘Have you got any idea of what they're looking for?'

‘Some ancient talisman that Otha craves for his God.'

‘The tinker we spoke with said that most people around here believe there's a vast treasure there somewhere.'

The old man smiled. ‘Elenes tend to exaggerate things,' he said. ‘They cannot believe that the Zemochs would devote so much effort to the finding of one single thing – although the thing they seek is of greater worth than all the treasure in the world.'

‘That answers that question, doesn't it?' Kalten noted.

‘Elenes have an indiscriminate lust for gold and precious gems,' the old Styric went on, ‘and so it's entirely possible that they don't even know what they're looking for. They expect huge chests of treasure, but there are no such chests to be found on that field. It's not impossible that some one of them might already have found the object and cast it aside, not knowing its worth.'

‘No, aged master,' Sephrenia disagreed. ‘The talisman of which you speak has not yet been found. Its uncovering would ring like a giant bell through all the world.'

‘It may be as you say, my sister. Do you and your companions also journey to the lake in search of the talisman?'

‘Such is our intent,' she replied, ‘and our quest is of some urgency. If nothing else, we must deny possession of the talisman to Otha's God.'

‘I shall pray to
my
God for your success then.' The old Styric looked back at Sparhawk. ‘How fares it with the head of the Elene Church?' he asked carefully.

‘The Archprelate is very old,' Sparhawk told him truthfully, ‘and his health is failing.'

The old man sighed. ‘It is as I feared,' he said. ‘Although I am sure he would not accept the good wishes
of a Styric, I nonetheless also pray to my God that he will live for many more years.'

‘Amen to that,' Ulath said.

The white-bearded Styric hesitated. ‘Rumour states that the Primate of a place called Cimmura is most likely to become the head of your Church,' he said cautiously.

‘That could be a bit exaggerated,' Sparhawk told him. ‘There are many in the Church who oppose the ambitions of Primate Annias. A part of our
own
purpose is to thwart him as well.'

‘Then I shall pray for you doubly, Sir Knight. Should Annias reach the throne in Chyrellos, it will be a disaster for Styricum.'

‘And for just about everybody else as well,' Ulath grunted.

‘It will be far more deadly for Styrics, Sir Knight. The feelings of Annias of Cimmura about our race are widely known. The authority of the Elene Church has kept the hatred of the Elene commons in check, but should Annias succeed, he will probably remove that restraint, and I fear Styricum will be doomed.'

‘We will do all we can to prevent his reaching the throne,' Sparhawk promised.

The old Styric bowed. ‘May the hands of the Younger Gods of Styricum protect you, my friends.' He bowed again to Sephrenia and then to Flute.

‘Let's move on,' Sephrenia said. ‘We're keeping the other villagers away from their homes.'

They rode out of the village and back into the forest.

‘So the people digging up the battlefield are Zemochs,' Tynian mused. ‘They're creeping all over western Eosia, aren't they?'

‘We have known that it's all part of Otha's plan for generations,' Sephrenia said. ‘Most Elenes cannot tell the difference between western Styrics and Zemochs. Otha
does not want any kind of alliance or reconciliation between western Styrics and Elenes. A few well-placed atrocities have kept the prejudices of the Elene common people inflamed, and the stories of such incidents grow with every telling. This has been the source of centuries of general oppression and random massacres.'

‘Why does the possibility of an alliance worry Otha so much?' Kalten sounded puzzled. ‘There aren't enough Styrics in the west to pose that much of a threat, and since they won't touch steel weapons, they wouldn't be of much use if war breaks out again, would they?'

‘The Styrics would fight with magic, not steel, Kalten,' Sparhawk told him, ‘and Styric magicians know a lot more about it than the Church Knights.'

‘The fact that the Zemochs are at Lake Randera is promising, though,' Tynian said.

‘How so?' Kalten asked.

‘If they're still digging, it means they haven't found Bhelliom yet. It also hints at the fact that we're going to the right place.'

‘I'm not so sure,' Ulath disagreed. ‘If they've been looking for Bhelliom for the last five hundred years and still haven't found it, maybe Lake Randera's
not
the right place.'

‘Why haven't the Zemochs tried necromancy? The way we're going to?' Kalten asked.

‘Thalesian spirits would not respond to a Zemoch necromancer,' Ulath replied. ‘They'll probably talk to me, but not to anybody else.'

‘It's a good thing you're along then, Ulath,' Tynian said. ‘I'd hate to go to all the trouble of raising ghosts and then find out that they won't talk to me.'

‘If you raise them, I'll talk with them.'

‘You didn't ask him about the Seeker,' Sparhawk said to Sephrenia.

‘There was no need. It would only have frightened him. Besides, if those villagers had known the Seeker was in this part of the world, the village would have been abandoned.'

‘Maybe we should have warned him.'

‘No, Sparhawk. Life is hard enough for those people without turning them into vagabonds. The Seeker is looking for
us
. The villagers are in no danger.'

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the edge of the woods. They halted there and peered out over seemingly deserted fields. ‘Let's camp back here among the trees,' Sparhawk said. ‘That's awfully open ground out there. I'd rather not have anyone see our fire if I can avoid it.'

They rode back among the trees a short way and set up camp for the night. Kalten walked out to the edge of the wood to keep watch. Shortly after dark, he returned. ‘You'd better hide that fire a little better,' he told Berit. ‘You can see it from the edge of the trees.'

‘Right away, Sir Kalten,' the young novice replied. He took a spade and banked more earth around their small cook-fire.

‘We're not the only ones around here, Sparhawk,' the big blond Pandion said seriously. ‘There are a couple of fires about a mile out there in those fields.'

‘Let's go and have a look,' Sparhawk said to Tynian and Ulath. ‘We'll need to pinpoint the locations so we can slip around them in the morning. Even if the Seeker won't be a problem for several more days, there are still other people trying to keep us away from the lake. Coming, Kalten?'

‘Go ahead,' his friend said. ‘I haven't eaten yet.'

‘We might need you to point the fires out to us.'

‘You can't miss them,' Kalten said, filling his wooden bowl. ‘Whoever built them wants lots of light.'

‘He's very attached to his stomach, isn't he?' Tynian said as the three knights walked towards the edge of the wood.

‘He eats a great deal,' Sparhawk admitted, ‘but he's a big man, so it takes a lot of food to keep him going.'

The fires far out in the open fields were clearly visible. Sparhawk carefully noted the locations. ‘We'll swing north, I think,' he said quietly to the others. ‘Probably we'll want to stay in the woods until we get well past those camps out there.'

‘Peculiar,' Ulath said.

‘What is?' Tynian asked.

‘Those camps aren't very far apart. If the men out there know each other, why didn't they make just one camp?'

‘Maybe they don't like each other.'

‘Why did they camp so close together then?'

Tynian shrugged. ‘Who knows why Lamorks do anything?'

‘There's nothing we can do about them tonight,' Sparhawk said. ‘Let's go back.'

Sparhawk awoke just before dawn. When he went to rouse the others, he found that Tynian, Berit and Talen were missing. Tynian's absence was easily explained. He was on watch at the edge of the woods. The novice and the boy, however, had no business being out of their beds. Sparhawk swore and went to wake Sephrenia. ‘Berit and Talen have gone off somewhere,' he told her.

She looked around at the darkness pressing in on their well-hidden camp. ‘We'll have to wait until it gets light,' she said. ‘If they're not back by then, we'll have to go and look for them. Stir up the fire, Sparhawk, and put my tea-kettle near the flame.'

The sky to the east was growing lighter when Berit and Talen returned to camp. They both looked excited, and their eyes were very bright.

‘Just where have you two been?' Sparhawk demanded angrily.

‘Satisfying a curiosity,' Talen replied. ‘We went to pay a visit on our neighbours.'

‘Can you translate that for me, Berit?'

‘We crept across the fields to have a look at the people around those campfires out there, Sir Sparhawk.'