The Sapphire Rose

‘The Cardos road?’ Kurik asked Sparhawk as they saddled Faran and Kurik’s gelding.

‘Might I make a suggestion?’ Stragen asked from nearby.

‘Certainly.’

‘King Wargun’s a maudlin man when he’s drunk – which is most of the time. Your defection probably has him blubbering in his beer every night. He offered a sizeable reward for your capture in Thalesia and Deira, and he’s probably circulated the same offer here. Your face is well-known in Elenia, and it’s about seventy leagues from here to Cimmura – a good week of hard travel at least. Do you really want to spend that much time on a well-travelled road under those circumstances? – Particularly in view of the fact that somebody wants to shoot you full of arrows rather than just turn you over to Wargun?’

‘Perhaps not. Can you think of an alternative?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. It may take us a day or so longer, but Platime once showed me a different route. It’s a bit rough, but very few people know about it.’

Sparhawk looked at the thin blond man with a certain amount of suspicion. ‘Can I trust you, Stragen?’ he asked bluntly.

Stragen shook his head in resignation. ‘Talen,’ he said, ‘haven’t you ever explained thieves’ sanctuary to him?’

‘I’ve tried, but sometimes Sparhawk has difficulty with moral concepts. It goes like this, Sparhawk. If Stragen lets anything happen to us while we’re under his protection, he’ll have to answer to Platime.’

‘That’s more or less why I came along, actually,’ Stragen admitted. ‘As long as I’m with you, you’re still under my protection. I like you, Sparhawk, and having a Church Knight to intercede with God for me in case I happen to be accidentally hanged couldn’t hurt.’ His sardonic expression returned then. ‘Not only that, watching out for all of you might expiate some of my grosser sins.’

‘Do you really have that many sins, Stragen?’ Sephrenia asked him gently.

‘More than I can remember, dear sister,’ he replied in Styric, ‘and many of them are too foul to be described in your presence.’

Sparhawk looked quickly at Talen, and the boy nodded gravely. ‘Sorry, Stragen,’ he apologized. ‘I misjudged you.’

‘Perfectly all right, old boy.’ Stragen grinned. ‘And perfectly understandable. There are days when I don’t even trust myself.’

‘Where’s this other road to Cimmura?’

Stragen looked around. ‘Why, do you know, I actually believe it starts just up there at the head of this beach. Isn’t that an amazing coincidence?’

‘That was your ship we sailed on?’

‘I’m a part owner, yes.’

‘And you suggested to the captain that this beach might be a good place to drop us off?’

‘I do seem to recall such a conversation, yes.’

‘An amazing coincidence, all right,’ Sparhawk said dryly.

Stragen stopped, looking out to sea. ‘Odd,’ he said, pointing at a passing ship. ‘There’s that same merchantman we saw up in the straits. She’s sailing very light. Otherwise she couldn’t have made such good time.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh well. Let’s go to Cimmura, shall we?’

The ‘alternative route’ they followed was little more than a forest trail that wound up across the range of mountains that lay between the coast and the broad tract of farmland drained by the Cimmura River. Once the track came down out of the mountains, it merged imperceptibly with a series of sunken country lanes meandering through the fields.

Early one morning when they were midway across that farmland, a shabby-looking fellow on a spavined mule cautiously approached their camp. ‘I need to talk with a man named Stragen,’ he called from just out of bow-shot.

‘Come ahead,’ Stragen called back to him.

The man did not bother to dismount. ‘I’m from Platime,’ he identified himself to the Thalesian. ‘He told me to warn you. There were some fellows looking for you on the road from Cardos to Cimmura.’

‘Were?’

‘They couldn’t really identify themselves after we encountered them, and they aren’t looking for anything any more.’

‘Ah.’

‘They were asking questions before we intercepted them, though. They described you and your companions to a number of peasants. I don’t think they wanted to catch up with you just to talk about the weather, Milord.’

‘Were they Elenians?’ Stragen asked intently.

‘A few of them were. The rest seemed to be Thalesian sailors. Someone’s after you and your friends, Stragen, and I think they’ve got killing on their minds. If I were you, I’d get to Cimmura and Platime’s cellar just as quickly as I could.’

‘My thanks, friend,’ Stragen said.

The ruffian shrugged. ‘I’m getting paid for this. Thanks don’t fatten my purse at all.’ He turned his mule and rode off.

‘I knew I should have turned and sunk that ship,’ Stragen noted. ‘I must be getting soft. We’d better move right along, Sparhawk. We’re awfully exposed out here.’

Three days later, they reached Cimmura and reined in on the north rim of the valley to look down at the city, smoky and mist-plagued. ‘A distinctly unattractive place, Sparhawk,’ Stragen said critically.

‘It’s not much,’ Sparhawk conceded, ‘but we like to call it home.’

‘I’ll be leaving you here,’ Stragen said. ‘You have things to attend to and so do I. Might I suggest that we all forget we ever met each other? You’re involved in politics and I in theft. I’ll leave it to God to decide which occupation is the more dishonest. Good luck, Sparhawk, and keep your eyes open.’ He half-bowed to Sephrenia from his saddle, turned his horse and rode down to the grimy city below.

‘I could almost grow to like that man,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Where to, Sparhawk?’

‘The chapterhouse,’ the big Pandion decided. ‘We’ve been away for quite some time, and I’d like to know how things stand before I go to the palace.’ He squinted up at the noonday sun, bleary and wan-looking in the pervading haze that hung over Cimmura. ‘Let’s stay out of sight until we find out who’s controlling the city.’

They kept to the trees and rode on around Cimmura on the north side. Kurik slipped down from his gelding at one point and crept to the edge of the bushes to have a look. His expression was grave when he returned. ‘There are church soldiers manning the battlements,’ he reported.

Sparhawk swore. ‘Are you sure?’

‘The men up there are wearing red.’

‘Let’s move on anyway. We’ve got to get inside the chapterhouse.’

The dozen or so ostensible workmen outside the fortress of the Pandion Knights were still laying cobblestones.

‘They’ve been at that for almost a year now,’ Kurik muttered, ‘and they still haven’t finished. Do we wait for dark?’

‘I don’t think that would do much good. They’ll still be watching, and I don’t want it generally known that we’re back in Cimmura.’

‘Sephrenia,’ Talen said, ‘can you make a column of smoke come up from just inside the city walls near the gate?’

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Good. We’ll make those bricklayers go away then.’ The boy quickly explained his plan.

‘That isn’t really too bad, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said rather proudly. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s worth a try. Let’s do it and see what happens.’

The red uniform Sephrenia created for Kurik did not look all that authentic, but the smudges and smoke-stains she added covered most of the discrepancies. The important things were the gold-embroidered epaulettes which identified him as an officer. The burly squire then led his horse through the bushes to a spot near the city gate.

Then Sephrenia began to murmur in Styric, gesturing with her fingers as she did so.

The column of smoke that rose from inside the walls was very convincing, thick, oily black and boiling dreadfully.

‘Hold my horse,’ Talen said to Sparhawk, slipping down from his saddle. He ran out to the edge of the bushes and began to shriek, ‘Fire!’ at the top of his lungs.

The so-called workmen gaped at him stupidly for a moment, then turned to stare in consternation at the city.

‘You always have to yell “fire”,’ Talen explained when he returned. ‘It gets people to thinking in the right direction.’

Then Kurik galloped up to the spies outside the gate of the chapterhouse. ‘You men,’ he barked, ‘there’s a house on fire in Goat Lane. Get in there and help put the fire out before the whole city starts to burn.’

‘But sir,’ one of the workmen objected, ‘we were ordered to stay here and keep an eye on the Pandions.’

‘Do you have anything you value inside the city walls?’ Kurik asked him bluntly. ‘If that fire gets away from us, you can stand here and keep an eye on it while it burns. Now move, all of you! I’m going up to that fortress to see if I can persuade the Pandions to lend a hand.’

The workmen looked at him, then dropped their tools and ran towards the illusory conflagration as Kurik rode on towards the drawbridge of the chapterhouse.

‘Slick,’ Sparhawk complimented Talen.

‘Thieves do it all the time,’ the boy shrugged. ‘We have to use real fire, though. People run outside to gawk at fires. That provides an excellent opportunity to look around inside their houses for things of value.’ He looked towards the city gate. ‘Our friends seem to be out of sight. Why don’t we ride on before they come back?’

Two Pandion Knights in black armour rode gravely out to meet them as they reached the drawbridge. ‘Is that a fire in the city, Sparhawk?’ one of them asked in some alarm.

‘Not really,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Sephrenia’s entertaining the church soldiers.’

The other knight grinned at Sephrenia. Then he straightened. ‘Who art thou who entreateth entry into the house of the Soldiers of God?’ he began the ritual.

‘We don’t have time for that, brother,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘We’ll go through it twice next time. Who’s in charge here now?’

‘Lord Vanion.’

That was surprising. Preceptor Vanion had been much involved in the campaign in Arcium when last Sparhawk had heard of him. ‘Do you have any idea of where I might locate him?’

‘He’s in his tower, Sparhawk,’ the second knight advised.

Sparhawk grunted. ‘How many knights are here right now, brother?’

‘About a hundred.’

‘Good. I may need them.’ Sparhawk nudged Faran with his heels. The big roan turned his head to look at his master with some surprise. ‘We’re busy now, Faran,’ Sparhawk explained to his horse. ‘We’ll go through the ritual some other time.’

Faran’s expression was disapproving as he started across the drawbridge.

‘Sir Sparhawk!’ a ringing voice came from the stable door. It was the novice, Berit, a rangy, raw-boned young man whose face was split with a broad grin.

‘Shout a little louder, Berit,’ Kurik said reprovingly. ‘Maybe they’ll be able to hear you in Chyrellos.’

‘Sorry, Kurik,’ Berit apologized, looking abashed.

‘Get some other novices to look after our horses and come with us,’ Sparhawk told the young man. ‘We have things to do, and we have to talk with Vanion.’

‘Yes, Sir Sparhawk.’ Berit ran back into the stable.

‘He’s such a nice boy,’ Sephrenia smiled.

‘He might work out,’ Kurik said grudgingly.

‘Sparhawk,’ a hooded Pandion said with some surprise as they entered the arched door leading into the chapterhouse. The knight pushed back his hood. It was Sir Perraine, the Pandion who had posed as a cattle-buyer in Dabour. Perraine spoke with a slight accent.

‘What are you doing back in Cimmura, Perraine?’ Sparhawk asked, clasping his brother knight’s hand. ‘We all thought you’d taken root in Dabour.’

Perraine seemed to recover from his surprise. ‘Ah –’ he began, ‘once Arasham died, there wasn’t much reason for me to remain in Dabour. We’d all heard that King Wargun was pursuing you all over western Eosia.’

‘Pursuing isn’t catching, Perraine,’ Sparhawk grinned. ‘We can talk later. But now my friends and I have to go and talk with Vanion.’

‘Of course.’ Perraine bowed slightly to Sephrenia and walked on out into the courtyard.

They went up the stairs to the south tower where Vanion’s study was located. The Preceptor of the Pandion Order wore that white Styric robe, and his face had aged even more in the short time since Sparhawk had last seen him. The others were also there, Ulath, Tynian, Bevier and Kalten. Their presence seemed somehow to make the room shrink. These were very large men, not only in sheer physical size, but also in terms of their towering reputations. The room seemed somehow full of bulky shoulders. As was customary among Church Knights when inside their chapterhouses, they all wore monks’ robes over their mail-shirts.

‘Finally!’ Kalten said, letting out an explosive breath. ‘Sparhawk, why didn’t you get word to us to let us know how you were?’

‘Messengers are a little hard to find in Troll-country, Kalten.’

‘Any luck?’ Ulath asked eagerly. Ulath was a huge, blond-braided Thalesian, and Bhelliom had a special meaning for him.

Sparhawk looked quickly at Sephrenia, silently asking permission.

‘All right,’ she said, ‘but only for a minute.’

Sparhawk reached down inside his tunic and drew out the canvas pouch in which he carried Bhelliom. He pulled open the drawstring, lifted out the most precious object in the world and placed it on the table Vanion used for a writing desk. Even as he did so, there came again that faint flicker of the darkness somewhere off in a dim corner. The hound of darkness his nightmare had conjured up in the mountains of Thalesia followed him still, and the shadow seemed larger and darker now as if each re-emergence of Bhelliom somehow increased its size and its brooding menace.

‘Do not look too deeply into those petals, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia warned. ‘Bhelliom can capture your souls if you look at it too long.’

‘God!’ Kalten breathed. ‘Look at that thing!’

Each glowing petal of the Sapphire Rose was so perfect that one could almost see dew clinging to it. From deep within the jewel emanated a blue light and an almost overpowering command to look upon it and observe its perfection.

‘Oh, God,’ Bevier prayed fervently, ‘defend us from the seduction of this stone.’ Bevier was a Cyrinic Knight and an Arcian. Sometimes Sparhawk felt that he was excessively pious. This, however, was not one of those times. If even half of what he had already sensed was true, Sparhawk knew that Bevier’s fear of Bhelliom was well placed.

Ulath, the huge Thalesian, was muttering in Troll. ‘Not kill, Bhelliom-Blue-Rose,’ he said. ‘Church Knights not enemies to Bhelliom. Church Knights protect Bhelliom from Azash. Help make what is wrong right again, Blue-Rose. I am Ulath-from-Thalesia. If Bhelliom have anger, send anger against Ulath.’

Sparhawk straightened. ‘No,’ he said firmly in the hideous Troll-tongue. ‘I am Sparhawk-from-Elenia. I am he who kills Ghwerig-Troll-Dwarf. I am he who brings Bhelliom-Blue-Rose to this place to heal my queen. If Bhelliom-Blue-Rose do this and still have anger, send anger against Sparhawk-from-Elenia and not against Ulath-from-Thalesia.’

‘You fool!’ Ulath exploded. ‘Have you got any idea of what that thing can do to you?’

‘Wouldn’t it do the same sort of things to you?’

‘Gentlemen, please,’ Sephrenia said to them wearily. ‘Stop this nonsense at once.’ She looked at the glowing rose on the table. ‘Listen to me, Bhelliom-Blue-Rose,’ she said firmly, not even bothering to speak in the language of the Trolls. ‘Sparhawk-from-Elenia has the rings. Bhelliom-Blue-Rose must acknowledge his authority and obey him.’

The jewel darkened briefly, and then the deep blue light returned.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I will guide Bhelliom-Blue-Rose in what must be done, and Sparhawk-from-Elenia will command it. Blue-Rose must obey.’

The jewel flickered, and then the light returned.

‘Put it away now, Sparhawk.’

Sparhawk put the rose back into its pouch and slipped it back under his tunic.

‘Where’s Flute?’ Berit asked, looking around.

‘That, my young friend, is a very, very long story,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘Not dead?’ Sir Tynian asked in a shocked tone. ‘Surely not dead.’

‘No,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘That would be impossible. Flute is immortal.’

‘No human is immortal, Sparhawk,’ Bevier protested in a shocked voice.

‘Exactly,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Flute’s not human. She’s the Styric Child-Goddess Aphrael.’

‘Heresy!’ Bevier gasped.

‘You wouldn’t think so if you’d been in Ghwerig’s cave, Sir Bevier,’ Kurik told him. ‘I saw her rise from a bottomless abyss with my own eyes.’

‘A spell, perhaps?’ But Bevier did not seem quite so sure of himself now.

‘No, Bevier,’ Sephrenia said. ‘No spell could have accomplished what she did in that cave. She was – and is – Aphrael.’

‘Before we get involved in a theological dispute here, I need some information,’ Sparhawk said. ‘How did you all get away from Wargun, and what’s happening in the city?’

‘Wargun wasn’t really a problem,’ Vanion told him. ‘We came through Cimmura on our way south, and things went more or less the way we’d planned them at Acie. We threw Lycheas into the dungeon, put the Earl of Lenda in charge and persuaded the army and the church soldiers here in Cimmura to march south with us.’

‘How did you manage that?’ Sparhawk asked with some surprise.

‘Vanion’s a very good persuader,’ Kalten grinned. ‘Most of the generals were loyal to Primate Annias, but when they tried to object, Vanion invoked that Church Law the Earl of Lenda mentioned back at Acie and took command of the army. The generals still objected until he marched them all down to the courtyard. After Ulath had beheaded a few of them, most of the rest decided to change sides.’

‘Oh, Vanion,’ Sephrenia said in a tone of profound disappointment.

‘I was a bit pressed for time, little mother,’ he apologized. ‘Wargun was in a hurry to get started. He wanted to butcher the entire Elenian officer corps, but I talked him out of that. Anyway, we joined with King Soros of Pelosia at the border and marched down into Arcium. The Rendors turned tail and ran when they saw us coming. Wargun intends to chase them down, but I think that’s just for his personal entertainment. The other Preceptors and I managed to convince him that our presence in Chyrellos during the election of the new Archprelate was vital, so he let each of us take a hundred knights.’

‘That was generous of him,’ Sparhawk said sardonically. ‘Where are the knights from the other orders?’

‘They’re camped outside Demos. Dolmant doesn’t want us to move into Chyrellos until the situation there solidifies.’

‘If Lenda’s in charge at the palace, why are there church soldiers on the walls of the city?’

‘Annias found out what we’d done here, of course. There are members of the Hierocracy who are loyal to him, and they all have their own troops. He borrowed some of those men and sent them here. They freed Lycheas and imprisoned the Earl of Lenda. They control the city at the moment.’

‘We ought to do something about that.’

Vanion nodded. ‘We were on our way to Demos with the other orders when we chanced to find out what was happening here. The other orders went on to Demos to be in position to move on Chyrellos and we came here to Cimmura. We only arrived late last night. The knights were all eager to go into the city as soon as we got here, but we’ve been campaigning hard, and they’re all tired. I want them to be a little better rested before we correct things inside the walls.’

‘Are we likely to have any problems?’

‘I doubt it. Those church soldiers aren’t Annias’s men. They’re on loan from the other Patriarchs, and their loyalties are a little vague. I think a show of force is probably about all it’s going to take to make them capitulate.’

‘Are the remaining six knights who were involved in the spell in the throne-room among your hundred?’ Sephrenia asked him.

‘Yes,’ Vanion replied a little wanly. ‘We’re all here.’ He looked at the Pandion sword she was carrying. ‘Do you want to give me that?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘You’re carrying enough already. It isn’t going to be much longer anyway.’

‘You’re going to reverse the spell?’ Tynian asked, ‘– before you use Bhelliom to cure the queen, I mean?’

‘We have to,’ she told him. ‘Bhelliom has to touch her skin in order to cure her.’

Kalten went to the window. ‘It’s late afternoon now,’ he said. ‘If we’re going to do this today, we’d better get started.’

‘Let’s wait until morning,’ Vanion decided. ‘If the soldiers try to resist, it might take a while to subdue them, and I don’t want any of those people slipping away in the dark to warn Annias until we’ve had time to get reinforcements here.’

‘How many soldiers are at the palace?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘My spies report a couple of hundred,’ Vanion replied, ‘hardly enough to cause us any problems.’

‘We’re going to have to come up with a way to seal the city for a few days if we don’t want to see a relief column wearing red tunics coming up the river,’ Ulath said.

‘I can take care of that,’ Talen told him. ‘I’ll slip into town just before dark and go and talk to Platime. He’ll seal the gates for us.’

‘Can he be trusted?’ Vanion asked.

‘Platime? Of course not, but I think he’ll do that much for us. He hates Annias.’

‘That’s it then,’ Kalten said gaily. ‘We can move out at dawn and have everything tidied up by lunchtime.’

‘Don’t bother to set a place at the table for the bastard Lycheas,’ Ulath said bleakly, testing the edge of his axe with his thumb. ‘I don’t think he’s going to have much of an appetite.’

Chapter 3

Kurik woke Sparhawk early the following morning and helped him into his formal black armour. Then, carrying his sword-belt and plumed helmet, Sparhawk went to Vanion’s study to await the dawn and the arrival of the others. This was the day. He had striven towards this day for a half a year and more. Today he would look full into the eyes of his queen, salute her and swear his oath of fealty. A terrible impatience welled up in him. He wanted to get on with it, and he swore at the sluggard sun for its leisurely rising. ‘And then, Annias,’ he almost purred, ‘you and Martel are going to become no more than footnotes to history.’

‘Did you get hit on the head when you had that fight with Ghwerig?’ It was Kalten, who was also wearing his formal black armour and who entered with his helmet under his arm.

‘Not really,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘why?’

‘You’re talking to yourself. Most people don’t do that, you know.’

‘You’re wrong, Kalten. Almost everybody does it. Most of the time, though, it involves rewriting past conversations – or planning ones yet to come.’

‘Which were you doing just now?’

‘Neither. I was sort of warning Annias and Martel what to expect.’

‘They couldn’t hear you, you know.’

‘Maybe not, but giving them some kind of warning is the knightly thing to do. At least I’ll know I said it – even if they don’t.’

‘I don’t think I’ll bother with that when I go after Adus,’ Kalten grinned. ‘Do you have any idea of how long it would take to pound a thought into Adus? Oh, who gets to kill Krager, by the way?’

‘Let’s give him to somebody who does something nice for us.’

‘Sounds fair.’ Kalten paused, and his face grew serious. ‘Is it going to work, Sparhawk? Will Bhelliom really cure Ehlana – or have we just been fooling ourselves?’

‘I think it’s going to work. We have to believe that it will. Bhelliom’s very, very powerful.’

‘Have you ever used it at all?’

‘Once. I collapsed a ridge-line in the mountains of Thalesia with it.’

‘Why?’

‘It needed to be done. Don’t think about Bhelliom, Kalten. It’s very dangerous to do that.’

Kalten looked sceptical. ‘Are you going to let Ulath shorten Lycheas a bit when we get to the palace? Ulath really enjoys doing that to people – or I could hang the bastard, if you’d prefer.’