‘Authority not exercised no longer exists,’ Makova snapped.
‘I’m afraid that’s not entirely true, Your Grace,’ the monk apologized. ‘There are many historical precedents for resuming participation. At one time, the Patriarchs of the kingdom of Arcium refused to participate in the deliberations of the Hierocracy for eight hundred years as a result of a dispute over proper vestments, and –’
‘All right. All right,’ Makova said angrily, ‘but these armoured assassins have no right to be here.’ He glared at the knights.
‘Wrong again, Makova,’ Emban said smugly. ‘By definition, the Church Knights are members of religious orders. Their vows are no less binding and legitimate than ours. They are thus Churchmen and may act as observers – provided that they are invited by a sitting Patriarch.’ He turned. ‘Sir Knights,’ he said, ‘would you be so good as to accept my personal invitation to witness our proceedings?’
Makova looked quickly at the scholarly monk, and the weedy fellow nodded.
‘What it boils down to, Makova,’ Emban said in an unctuous tone tinged with malice, ‘is that the Knights of the Church have as much right to be present as the serpent Annias, who sits in unearned splendour in the north gallery – chewing his lower lip in dismay, I note.’
‘You go too far, Emban!’
‘I don’t really think so, old boy. Shall we take a vote on something, Makova, and find out how much your support has been eroded?’ Emban looked around. ‘But we’re interrupting the proceedings. I pray you, my brother Patriarchs and dear guests, let us take our seats so that the Hierocracy may continue its empty deliberations.’
‘Empty?’ Makova gasped.
‘Totally empty, old boy. Until Cluvonus dies, nothing we decide here has any meaning whatsoever. We’re simply amusing ourselves – and earning our pay, of course.’
‘That’s a very offensive little man,’ Tynian murmured to Ulath.
‘Good though,’ the huge Genidian Knight grinned.
Sparhawk knew exactly where he was going. ‘You,’ he muttered to Talen, who had probably been admitted by mistake, ‘come with me.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To irritate an old friend,’ Sparhawk grinned mirthlessly. He led the boy up the stairs to an upper gallery where the emaciated Primate of Cimmura sat with a writing desk in front of him and a fair number of black-robed sycophants on either side. Sparhawk and Talen went to places on the bench directly behind Annias. Sparhawk saw that Ulath, Berit and Tynian were following, and he waved them off warningly even as Dolmant and Emban escorted the armoured Preceptors to places on the lower, cushioned tiers.
Sparhawk knew that Annias sometimes blurted things out when he was surprised, and he wanted to find out if his enemy had in any way been involved in the attempted mass poisoning at Dolmant’s house that morning. ‘Why, can that possibly be the Primate of Cimmura?’ he said in feigned surprise. ‘What on earth are you doing so far away from home, Annias?’
Annias turned to glare at him. ‘What are you up to, Sparhawk?’ he hissed.
‘Observing, that’s all,’ Sparhawk replied, removing his helmet and depositing his gauntlets in it. He unbuckled his shield and removed his sword-belt. He leaned them against the back of Annias’s seat. ‘Will those be in your way, neighbour?’ he asked mildly. ‘It’s a bit hard to sit down comfortably when you’re so encumbered with the tools of your trade, you know.’ He sat. ‘How have you been, Annias? I haven’t seen you for months now.’ He paused. ‘You’re looking a bit gaunt and pasty-faced, old boy. You really ought to get more fresh air and exercise.’
‘Be still, Sparhawk,’ Annias snapped. ‘I’m trying to listen.’
‘Oh, of course. We can have a nice long talk later – catch up on each other’s accomplishments and the like.’ There was nothing out of the ordinary in Annias’s reaction, and Sparhawk became a little less certain of the man’s guilt.
‘If it pleases you, my brothers,’ Dolmant was saying, ‘a number of events have recently occurred, and I feel obligated to report them to the Hierocracy. Though our primary tasks are ageless, we nonetheless function in the world and must keep abreast of current events.’
Makova looked questioningly up towards Annias. The Primate took up a quill and a scrap of paper. Sparhawk rested his arms on the back of his enemy’s seat and looked over the man’s shoulder as he scribbled the terse instruction, ‘Let him talk.’
‘Tiresome, isn’t it, Annias,’ Sparhawk said in a pleasant tone. ‘It would be so much more convenient if you could do your own talking, wouldn’t it?’
‘I told you to shut up, Sparhawk,’ Annias grated, handing his note to a young monk to carry to Makova.
‘My, aren’t we testy this morning,’ Sparhawk observed. ‘Didn’t you sleep well last night, Annias?’
Annias turned to glare at his tormentor. ‘Who’s that?’ he demanded, pointing at Talen.
‘My page,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s one of the encumbrances of knightly rank. He sort of fills in while my squire is otherwise occupied.’
Makova had glanced at the note. ‘We always welcome the words of the learned Primate of Demos,’ he declaimed loftily, ‘but please be brief, Your Grace. We have important business to attend to here.’ He stepped away from the lectern.
‘Of course, Makova,’ Dolmant replied, stepping to the vacated place. ‘Briefly then,’ he began, ‘as a result of the full recovery of Queen Ehlana, the political situation in the kingdom of Elenia has radically changed, and –’
Cries of astonishment echoed through the hall, and there was a confused babble of voices. Sparhawk, still leaning on the back of Annias’s seat, was pleased to see the Primate’s face grow totally white as he half-started to his feet. ‘Impossible!’ the Churchman gaped.
‘Amazing, isn’t it, Annias?’ Sparhawk said, ‘and so totally unexpected. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that the queen sends you her very best wishes.’
‘Explain yourself, Dolmant!’ Makova half-shouted.
‘I was only trying to be brief – as you requested, Makova. No more than a week ago, Queen Ehlana recovered from her mysterious ailment. Many look upon that as miraculous. Upon her recovery, certain facts came to light, and the former Prince Regent – and his mother, I understand – are currently under arrest on the charge of high treason.’
Annias fell back in his seat in a near-faint.
‘The revered and respected Earl of Lenda now presides over the royal council, and warrants for a number of co-conspirators in the foul plot against the queen have been issued over his seal. The Queen’s Champion is presently searching out these miscreants and will doubtless bring them all before the bar of justice – either human or divine.’
‘The Baron Harparin was next in line to preside over the Elenian royal council,’ Makova protested.
‘The Baron Harparin is presently standing before the bar of the Highest Justice, Makova,’ Dolmant said in a deadly tone. ‘He faces the Ultimate Judge. There is, I fear, scant hope for his acquittal – though we may pray that it be otherwise.’
‘What happened to him?’ Makova gasped.
‘I’m told that he was accidentally beheaded during the changeover of administrations in Cimmura. Regrettable, perhaps, but that sort of thing happens now and then.’
‘Harparin?’ Annias gasped in dismay.
‘He made the mistake of offending Preceptor Vanion,’ Sparhawk murmured in his ear, ‘and you know how short-tempered Vanion can be at times. He was very sorry afterwards, of course, but by then Harparin was lying in two separate places. He absolutely destroyed the carpeting in the council chamber – all that blood, you know.’
‘Who else are you chasing, Sparhawk?’ Annias demanded.
‘I don’t have the list with me at the moment, Annias, but there are a number of prominent names on it – names I’m sure you’d recognize.’
There was a stir at the door, and two frightened-looking Patriarchs crept into the hall and then scurried to pl
aces on the red-cushioned benches. Kalten stood grinning at the door for a moment, then left again.
‘Well?’ Sparhawk whispered to Talen.
‘Those two bring the total up to one hundred and nineteen,’ Talen whispered back. ‘We’ve got forty-five, and Annias still has sixty-five. He needs seventy-two now instead of seventy-one. We’re getting closer, Sparhawk.’
It took the secretary of the Primate of Cimmura some while longer to complete his computations. Annias scribbled a one-word note to Makova. Sparhawk, watching over the Primate’s shoulder read the single word, ‘vote’.
The issue Makova put to the vote was a pure absurdity. Everyone knew that. The only question the vote was designed to answer was upon which side the nine neutral Patriarchs clustered in a now-frightened group near the door would come down. After the tally, Makova announced the results in a tone of dismay. The nine had voted in a block against the Primate of Cimmura.
The huge door opened again, and three black-robed monks entered. Their cowls were raised, and their pace was ritualistically slow. When they reached the dais, one of their number removed a folded black cover from beneath his robe, and the three solemnly spread it over the throne to announce that the Archprelate Cluvonus had finally died.
Chapter 9
‘How long will the city be in mourning?’ Tynian asked Dolmant that afternoon when they had gathered once again in the Patriarch’s study.
‘A week,’ Dolmant replied. ‘The funeral takes place then.’
‘And nothing happens during that period?’ the blue-cloaked Alcione Knight asked. ‘No sessions of the Hierocracy or anything?’
Dolmant shook his head. ‘No. We’re supposed to spend the period in prayer and meditation.’
‘It’s a breathing-space,’ Vanion said, ‘and it should give Wargun time to get here.’ He frowned. ‘We still have a problem, though. Annias doesn’t have any more money, and that means that his hold on his majority grows shakier every day. He’s probably growing desperate by now, and desperate men do rash things.’
‘He’s right,’ Komier agreed. ‘I expect Annias will take to the streets at this point. He’ll hold his own votes by terror, and try to reduce the number voting by eliminating Patriarchs loyal to us until he gets the number down to the point where he has a substantive majority. I think it’s time to fort up, gentlemen. We’d better get our friends all together behind some good stout walls where we can protect them.’
‘I’ll certainly agree,’ Abriel concurred. ‘Our position is vulnerable at this moment.’
‘Which of your chapterhouses is closest to the Basilica?’ Patriarch Emban asked them. ‘Our friends are going to have to file back and forth through the streets to participate in deliberations. Let’s not expose them to any more danger than we have to.’
‘Our house is closest,’ Vanion told him, ‘and it has its own well. After what happened this morning, I don’t want to give Annias access to our drinking water.’
‘Supplies?’ Darellon asked.
‘We keep enough on hand to withstand a six-month siege,’ Vanion replied. ‘Soldiers’ rations, I’m afraid, Your Grace,’ he apologized to the corpulent Emban.
Emban sighed. ‘Oh, well,’ he said, ‘I’ve been meaning to lose some weight anyway.’
‘It’s a good plan,’ the white-cloaked Preceptor Abriel said, ‘but it does have a drawback. If we’re all in one chapterhouse, the church soldiers can surround us. We’ll be penned up inside with no way to get to the Basilica at all.’
‘Then we’ll fight our way through,’ Komier said, cramming his ogre-horned helmet on his head irritably.
Abriel shook his head. ‘People get killed in fights, Komier. The vote is very close. We can’t afford to lose a single Patriarch at this point.’
‘We can’t win either way,’ Tynian said.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Kalten disagreed.
‘Can you see a way out of it?’
‘I think so.’ Kalten looked at Dolmant. ‘I’ll need permission for this, Your Grace,’ he said.
‘I’m listening. What’s your plan?’
‘If Annias decides to resort to naked force, that means that any semblance of civil order goes out of the window, doesn’t it?’
‘More or less, yes.’
‘Then if he’s not going to pay any attention to the rules, why should we? If we want to cut down on the number of church soldiers surrounding the Pandion chapterhouse, all we have to do is give them something more important to do.’
‘Set fire to the city again?’ Talen suggested.
‘That might be a little extreme,’ Kalten said. ‘We can keep the notion in reserve, though. At this moment, however, the votes Annias has got are the most important things in his life. If we start peeling them off one by one, he’ll do just about anything to protect what he’s got left, won’t he?’
‘I will not allow you to start butchering Patriarchs, Kalten,’ Dolmant said in a shocked voice.
‘We don’t have to kill anybody, Your Grace. All we have to do is imprison a few. Annias is fairly intelligent. He’ll get the point after a while.’
‘You’ll need some kind of charge, Sir Kalten,’ Abriel said. ‘You can’t just imprison Patriarchs of the Church for no reason at all – regardless of the circumstances.’
‘Oh, we have charges, My Lord Abriel – all sorts of charges – but “crimes against the crown of Elenia” has the nicest ring to it, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I hate it when he tries to be clever,’ Sparhawk muttered to Tynian.
‘You’ll love this one, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said. He threw back his black cloak with an expression of insufferable smugness. ‘How many of those arrest warrants Lenda signed for you back in Cimmura have you still got in your pocket?’
‘Eight or ten, why?’
‘Are there any of those people whose company you’d absolutely die without for the next several weeks?’
‘I could probably live without most of them.’ Sparhawk thought he saw which way his friend was going.
‘All we have to do is substitute a few names then,’ Kalten said. “The documents are official, so it’s going to look legal – sort of. After we’ve picked up four or five of his bought-and-paid-for Patriarchs and dragged them off to the Alcione chapterhouse – which just happens to be way over on the far side of town – won’t Annias do everything in his power to get them back? I’d sort of expect the number of soldiers gathered around the Pandion chapterhouse to diminish drastically at that point.’
‘Amazing,’ Ulath said. ‘Kalten actually came up with a workable idea.’
‘About the only thing I can see wrong with it is the business of substituting names,’ Vanion said. ‘You can’t just scratch out one name and replace it with another – not on an official document.’
‘I didn’t say anything about scratching out names, My Lord,’ Kalten said modestly. ‘Once, when we were novices, you gave Sparhawk and me leave to go home for a few days. You scribbled a note to get us out through the gate. We just happened to keep the note. The scribes in the scriptorium have something that totally washes out ink. They use it when they make mistakes. The date on that note of yours kept mysteriously changing. You might almost call it miraculous, mightn’t you?’ He shrugged. ‘But then, God’s always been sort of fond of me.’
‘Would it work?’ Komier bluntly asked Sparhawk.
‘It did when we were novices, My Lord,’ Sparhawk assured him.
‘You actually knighted these two, Vanion?’ Abriel asked.
‘It was a slow week.’
The grins in the room were broad now.
‘Totally reprehensible, Kalten,’ Dolmant said. ‘I’d have to absolutely forbid it – if I thought that you were in any way serious about it. You were just speculating, weren’t you, my son?’
‘Oh, absolutely, Your Grace.’
‘I was sure that was the case.’ Dolmant smiled benignly, even piously, and then he winked.
‘Oh, dear,’ Sephrenia
sighed. ‘Isn’t there one honest Elene in the world? You too, Dolmant?’
‘I didn’t agree to anything, little mother,’ he protested with exaggerated innocence. ‘We were only speculating, weren’t we, Sir Kalten?’
‘Certainly, Your Grace. Pure speculation. Neither of us would ever seriously consider something so reprehensible.’
‘My feelings exactly,’ Dolmant said. ‘There, Sephrenia, does that set your mind at rest?’
‘You were a much nicer boy when you were a Pandion novice, Dolmant,’ she reproved him.
There was a stunned silence as they all stared at the Patriarch of Demos.
‘Oh dear,’ Sephrenia said mildly, her eyes dancing and a faint smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. ‘I suppose I really shouldn’t have said that, should I have, Dolmant?’
‘Did you really have to do that, little mother?’ he asked her in a pained tone.
‘Yes, dear one, I believe I did. You’ve started to become just a little too impressed with your own cleverness. It’s my responsibility as your teacher – and your friend – to curb that whenever possible.’
Dolmant tapped one finger on the table in front of him. ‘I trust we’ll all be discreet about this, gentlemen?’
‘Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of us, Dolmant,’ Emban grinned. ‘As far as I’m concerned, I never even heard it – and that’ll probably hold true until the next time I need a favour from you.’
‘Were you any good, Your Grace?’ Kalten asked respectfully. ‘As a Pandion, I mean?’
‘He was the best, Kalten,’ Sephrenia said rather proudly. ‘He was even a match for Sparhawk’s father. We were all saddened when the Church found other duties for him. We lost a very good Pandion when he took holy orders.’
Dolmant was still looking around at his friends, his expression suspicious. ‘I thought I’d buried it completely,’ he sighed. ‘I never thought you’d betray me, Sephrenia.’
‘It’s not exactly as if it were shameful, Your Grace,’ Vanion said.
The Sapphire Rose Page 16
