The Ruby Knight (33 page)

He looked at her disbelievingly.

‘I've got another question for you, Flute,' Tynian said. ‘Back at the lake, you were very eager to catch Ghwerig and take Bhelliom away from him. Then you suddenly changed your mind and said that we have to go to Acie. What happened?'

‘I received word from my family,' she told him. ‘They told me about this task I have to complete at Acie before we can go after Bhelliom.' She made a wry face. ‘I probably should have thought of it myself.'

‘Let's get back to this other thing,' Kalten said impatiently. ‘How did you squeeze time together the way you said you have?'

‘There are ways,' she said evasively.

‘I wouldn't pursue it, Kalten,' Sephrenia advised. ‘You wouldn't understand what she's been doing, so why worry about it? Besides, if you keep asking her questions, she might decide to answer you, and the answers would probably upset you very much.'

It seemed that it took them two more weeks to reach the foothills above Acie, the bleak, ugly capital of Deira, which perched on an eroded bluff overlooking the original harbour and the long, narrow Gulf of Acie. Flute advised them that evening, however, that no more than five days had passed since they had left the city of Agnak in Lamorkand. Most of them chose to take her at her word, but Sir Bevier, who was of a scholarly and resolutely Elene frame of mind, questioned her about how this seeming miracle had come to pass. Her explanation was patient, although dreadfully obscure. Bevier finally excused himself and went outside the tent for a time to look at the stars and to re-establish his relations with things he had always considered immutable and eternal.

‘Did you understand anything she said at all?' Tynian asked him when he returned, pale and sweating to the tent.

‘A little,' Bevier replied, sitting down again, ‘just around the edges.' He looked at Flute with frightened eyes. ‘I think perhaps that Patriarch Ortzel was right. We should have no dealings with these Styric people. Nothing is sacred to them.'

Flute crossed the tent on her grass-stained little feet and laid a consoling hand on his cheek. ‘Dear Bevier,' she said sweetly, ‘so serious and so devout. We must get to Thalesia quickly – just as soon as I can finish what I have to do in Acie. We simply did not have the time to plod half-way across the continent at the usual pace. That's why I did it the other way.'

‘I understand the reasons,' he said, ‘but -'

‘I will never hurt you, you know, and I won't let anybody else hurt you either, but you must try not to be so rigid. It makes it so very hard to explain things to you. Does that help at all?'

‘Not appreciably.'

She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him. ‘Now then,' she said brightly, ‘everything's all right again, isn't it?'

He gave up. ‘Do as you will, Flute,' he said to her with a gentle, almost shy smile. ‘I can't refute your arguments and your kisses at the same time.'

‘He's such a
nice
boy,' she said delightedly to the others.

‘We rather feel the same way about him ourselves,' Ulath said blandly, ‘and we have some plans for him.'

‘You, however,' she said critically to the Genidian Knight, ‘are most definitely
not
a nice boy.'

‘I know,' he admitted, unruffled, ‘and you have no idea how much that disappointed my mother – and a number of other ladies from time to time as well.'

She gave him a dark look and stalked away, muttering to herself in Styric. Sparhawk recognized some of the words, and he wondered if she really knew what they meant.

As had become his custom, Wargun asked Sparhawk to ride beside him the following morning as they trekked down the long, rocky slope from the foothills of the Deiran mountains towards the coast. ‘I should really get out more often,' the king of Thalesia confided. ‘After almost three weeks coming from Agnak, I should be nearly ready to fall out of my saddle, but I feel as if we've been on the road for only a few days.'

‘Perhaps it was the mountains,' Sparhawk suggested carefully. ‘Mountain air is always invigorating.'

‘Maybe that's it,' Wargun agreed.

‘Have you given any more thought to the discussion we had a while back, Your Majesty?' Sparhawk asked cautiously.

‘I've had a lot on my mind, Sparhawk. I appreciate your personal concern about your queen, but from a political standpoint the important thing now is to crush this Rendorish invasion. Then the Preceptors of the militant orders will be able to return to Chyrellos and block the Primate of Cimmura. If Annias fails to gain the Archprelacy, Lycheas the bastard won't have any chance of ascending the throne of Elenia. I realize that it's a hard choice, but politics is a hard game.'

A little later, when Wargun was conferring with his troop commander, Sparhawk relayed the gist of their conversation to his companions.

‘He's not any more reasonable when he's sober, is he?' Kalten said.

‘From his own standpoint, he's right, though,' Tynian observed. ‘The politics of the situation dictate that we do everything we can to get all the Preceptors back to Chyrellos before Cluvonus dies. I doubt that he cares much one way or the other about Ehlana. There's one other possibility, though. We're in Deira now, and Obler's the king here. He's a very wise old man. If we explain the situation to him, he might overrule Wargun.'

‘I don't think I'd care to hang Ehlana's life on that slim a possibility,' Sparhawk said. He turned to rejoin Wargun.

Despite Flute's assurances concerning the actual elapsed time their journey had consumed, Sparhawk was still impatient. The apparent slow pace nagged at him. While he could intellectually accept what she said, he could not come to grips with it emotionally. Twenty days is twenty days to one's senses, and Sparhawk's senses were strung wire-taut just now. He began to have
dark thoughts. Things had been going wrong so consistently that seeming premonitions tugged at his mind. He began to think about the forthcoming encounter with Ghwerig with a great deal less certainty about the outcome.

At around noon they reached Acie, the capital city of the kingdom of Deira. The Deiran army was encamped around the city, and their camp was bustling with activity as they prepared for the march south.

Wargun had been drinking again, but he looked around with satisfaction. ‘Good,' he said. ‘They're almost ready. Come along, Sparhawk, and bring your friends. Let's go talk to Obler.'

As they rode through the narrow, cobbled streets of Acie, Talen pulled his horse in beside Sparhawk's. ‘I'm going to drop behind a ways,' he said very quietly. ‘I want to look around. Getting away in the open countryside's very hard. This is a town, though, and there are always lots of places to hide in towns. King Wargun's not going to miss me. He hardly knows I'm along. If I can find us a good hiding place, maybe we can slip away to it and stay there until the army moves out. Then we can make a run for Thalesia.'

‘Just be very careful.'

‘Naturally.'

A few streets farther on, Sephrenia reined in sharply and pulled her white palfrey off to the side of the street. She and Flute quickly dismounted and went to the entrance of a narrow alley to greet an aged Styric with a long, snowy beard who wore an intensely white robe. Some sort of ritual ceremony seemed to take place between the three of them, but Sparhawk could not quite make out the details. Sephrenia and Flute spoke earnestly to the old man at some length, and then he bowed in acknowledgement and went back on up the alley.

‘What was that all about?' Wargun asked suspiciously when Sephrenia and the little girl rejoined them.

‘He's an old friend, Your Majesty,' Sephrenia replied, ‘and the most revered and wise man in all of western Styricum.'

‘A king, you mean?'

‘That's a word that has no meaning in Styricum, Your Majesty,' she told him.

‘How can you have a government if you don't have a king?'

‘There are other ways, Your Majesty, and besides, Styrics have outgrown the need for government.'

‘That's absurd.'

‘Many things seem that way – at first. It may come to you Elenes in time.'

‘That's a very infuriating woman sometimes, Sparhawk,' Wargun growled, pushing his horse back to the front of the column.

‘Sparhawk,' Flute said very lightly.

‘Yes?'

‘The task here in Acie is complete. We can leave for Thalesia at any time now.'

‘How do you propose to manage that?'

‘I'll tell you later. Go and keep Wargun company. He gets lonely without you.'

The palace was not a particularly imposing building. It looked to be more like a complex of administrative offices than something built for ostentation and display. ‘I don't know how Obler can live in this hovel,' Wargun said disdainfully, swaying in his saddle. ‘You there,' he bellowed at one of the guards posted at the main door, ‘go and tell Obler that Wargun of Thalesia has arrived. We need to confer about a few things.'

‘At once, Your Majesty.' The guard saluted and went inside.

Wargun dismounted and unhooked the wineskin from the skirt of his saddle. He uncorked it and took a long drink. ‘I hope Obler's got some chilled ale,' he said. ‘This wine's beginning to sour my stomach.'

The guard returned. ‘King Obler will receive you, Your Majesty,' he said ‘Please follow me.'

‘I know the way,' Wargun replied. ‘I've been here before. Have somebody see to our horses.' He blinked his bloodshot eyes at Sparhawk. ‘Come along then,' he commanded. He did not appear to have missed Talen.

They trooped through the unadorned hallways of King Obler's palace and found the aged king of Deira sitting behind a large table littered with maps and papers.

‘Sorry to be so late, Obler,' Wargun said, untying his purple cloak and dropping it on the floor. ‘I made a swing through Pelosia to pick up Soros and an army of sorts.' He sprawled out in a chair. ‘I'm afraid I'm rather out of touch. What's been going on?'

‘The Rendors have laid siege to Larium,' the white-haired king of Deira replied. ‘The Alciones, Genidians and Cyrinics are holding the city, and the Pandions are out in the countryside dealing with Rendorish raiding parties.'

‘That's more or less what I'd expected,' Wargun grunted. ‘Can you send for some ale, Obler? My stomach's been bothering me for the past few days. You remember Sparhawk, don't you?'

‘Of course. He's the man who saved Count Radun down in Arcium.'

‘And this one is Kalten. The big one there is Ulath. The one with the dark skin is Bevier, and I'm sure you know Tynian. The Styric woman is called Sephrenia – I'm not really sure about her real name. I'm sure neither one of us could even pronounce it. She teaches the Pandions magic, and that adorable child there is her little girl. The
other two work for Sparhawk. I wouldn't aggravate either one of them.' He looked around, his eyes bleary. ‘What happened to that boy you had with you?' he asked Sparhawk.

‘Probably exploring,' Sparhawk replied blandly. ‘Political discussions bore him.'

‘Sometimes they bore me as well,' Wargun said. He looked back at King Obler. ‘Have the Elenes mobilized yet?'

‘My agents have found no evidence of it.'

Wargun started to swear. ‘I think I'll stop in Cimmura on my way south and hang that young bastard Lycheas.'

‘I'll lend you a rope, Your Majesty,' Kalten offered.

Wargun laughed. ‘What's happening in Chyrellos, Obler?'

‘Cluvonus is in delirium,' Obler replied. ‘He can't last much longer, I'm afraid. Most of the major churchmen are already there preparing for the election of his successor.'

‘The Primate of Cimmura, most likely,' Wargun growled sourly. He took a tankard of ale from a servant. ‘That's all right, boy,' he said. ‘Just leave the keg.' His voice was slurred. ‘This is the way I see it, Obler. We'd better get to Larium as quickly as we can. We'll push the Rendors back into the sea so that the militant orders can go to Chyrellos and keep Annias from becoming Archprelate. If that happens, we may have to declare war.'

‘On the Church?' Obler sounded startled.

‘Archprelates have been deposed before, Obler. Annias won't have any use for a mitre if he doesn't have a head. Sparhawk has already volunteered to use his knife.'

‘You'll start a general civil war, Wargun. No one has directly confronted the Church for centuries.'

‘Then maybe it's about time. Anything else happening?'

‘The Earl of Lenda and Preceptor Vanion of the Pandion order arrived no more than an hour ago,' Obler said. ‘They wanted to get cleaned up. I sent for them just as soon as I'd heard that you'd arrived. They'll join us in a bit.'

‘Good. We'll be able to settle a lot of things here then. What's the date?'

King Obler told him.

‘Your calendar must be wrong, Obler,' Wargun said after counting days off on his fingers.

‘What did you do with Soros?' Obler asked.

‘I came close to killing him,' Wargun growled. ‘I've never seen anybody pray that much when there was work to be done. I sent him down into Lamorkand to pick up the barons down there. He's riding at the head of the army, but Bergsten's actually the one in charge. Bergsten would make a good Archprelate, if we could ever get him out of that armour.' He laughed. ‘Can you imagine the reaction of the Hierocracy to an Archprelate in a mail-shirt and a horned helmet and with a battle-axe in his hands?'

‘It might enliven the Church a bit, Wargun,' Obler conceded with a faint smile.

‘God knows she needs it,' Wargun said. ‘She's been acting like a frigid old maid since Cluvonus fell ill.'

‘Would Your Majesties excuse me?' Sparhawk asked deferentially. ‘I'd like to look in on Vanion. We haven't seen each other for a while, and there are things I need to report to him.'

‘More of this everlasting Church business?' Wargun asked.

‘You know how it is, Your Majesty.'

‘No, thank God, I don't. Go ahead, Knight of the Church. Talk with your father superior, but don't keep him too long. We've got important business here.'

‘Yes, Your Majesty.' Sparhawk bowed to the two kings and quietly left the room.

Vanion was trying to struggle into his armour when Sparhawk entered the room. He stared at his subordinate in some astonishment. ‘What are you doing here, Sparhawk?' he demanded. ‘I thought you were in Lamorkand.'

‘Just passing through, Vanion,' Sparhawk replied. ‘Some things have changed. I'll give you the gist of it now, and we can fill you in on more detail after King Wargun goes to bed.' He looked critically at his Preceptor. ‘You're looking tired, my friend.'