David Eddings - Domes of Fire

‘You think of everything, Khalad.’

‘Somebody has to be practical in this group.’

‘Now you sound like your father.’

‘There is one thing though, Sparhawk. Your partygoers are going to have to be very, very careful. There’ll be lanterns—and probably candles as well—on those barges. One little accident could start the fire quite a bit sooner than we’d planned, and—ah, actually, we’re a bit ahead of schedule, your Highness,’ he said in Tamul for the benefit of the half dozen labourers who were pulling a two-wheeled cart along the parapet. The cart was filled with lanterns which the labourers were hanging from the battlements.

‘No, no, no!’ Khalad chided them. ‘You can’t put two green ones side by side like that. I’ve told you a thousand times—white, green, red, blue. Do it the way I told you to do it. Be creative in your own time.’ He sighed exaggeratedly. ‘It’s so hard to get good help these days, your Highness,’ he said.

‘You’re overacting, Khalad,’ Sparhawk muttered.

‘I know, but I want to be sure they’re getting the point.’

Kring came along the parapet rubbing his hand over his scarred head. ‘I need a shave,’ he said absently, ‘and Mirtai’s too busy to attend to it.’

‘Is that a Peloi custom, Domi?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘Is it one of the duties of a Peloi woman to shave her man’s head?’

‘No, actually it’s Mirtai’s personal idea. It’s hard to see the back of your own head, and I used to miss a few places. Shortly after we were betrothed, she took my razor away from me and told me that from now on, she was going to do the shaving. She does a very nice job, really—when she isn’t too busy.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘They absolutely refused, Sparhawk,’ he reported. ‘I knew they would, but I put the matter before them the way you asked. They won’t be locked up inside your fort during the battle. If you stop and think about it, though, we’ll be much more useful ranging around the grounds on horseback anyway. A few score mounted Peloi will stir that mob around like a kettle-full of boiling soup. If you want confusion out there tomorrow night, we’ll give you lots of confusion. A man who’s worried about getting a sabre across the back of the head isn’t going to be able to concentrate on attacking a fort.’

‘Particularly when his weapon doesn’t work,’ Khalad added.

Sparhawk grunted. ‘Of course we’re assuming that the warehouse full’of crossbows Caalador found was the only one,’ he added.

‘I’m afraid we won’t find that out until tomorrow night,’ Khalad conceded. ‘I disabled about six hundred of those things. If twelve hundred crossbowmen come into the palace grounds we’ll know that half of their weapons are going to work. We’ll have to take cover at that point. You there!’ he shouted suddenly, looking upward. ‘Drape that bunting! Don’t stretch it tight that way.’ He shook his fist at the workman leaning precariously out of a window high up in one of the towers.

Although he was obviously quite young, the scholar Bevier escorted into Ehlana’s presence was almost totally bald. He was very nervous, but his eyes had that burning glaze to them that announced him to be a fanatic. He prostrated himself before Ehlana’s thronelike chair and banged his forehead on the floor.

‘Don’t do that, man,’ Ulath rumbled at him. ‘It offends the queen. Besides, you’ll crack the floor tiles.’

The scholar scrambled to his feet, his eyes fearful. ‘This is Emuda,’ Bevier introduced him. ‘He’s the scholar I told you about—the one with the interesting theory about Scarpa of Arjuna.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Ehlana said in Tamul. ‘Welcome, Master Emuda. Sir Bevier has spoken highly of you.’

Actually, Bevier had not, but a queen is allowed to take certain liberties with the truth. Emuda gave her a fawning sort of look. Sparhawk moved in quickly to cut off a lengthy, rambling preamble.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong about this, Master Emuda,’ he said, but our understanding of your theory is that you think that Scarpa’s behind all these disturbances in Tamuli.’

‘That’s a slight over-simplification, Sir?’ Emuda looked inquiringly at the tall Pandion Knight.

‘Sparhawk,’ Ulath supplied. Emuda’s face went white, and he began to tremble violently.

‘I’m a simple sort of man, neighbour,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Please don’t confuse me with complications. What sort of evidence do you have that lays everything at Scarpa’s door?’

‘It’s quite involved, Sir Sparhawk,’ Emuda apologised.

‘Un-involve it. Summarise, man. I’m busy.’

Emuda swallowed very hard. ‘Well, uh—’ he faltered. ‘We know—that is, we’re fairly certain—that Scarpa was the first of the spokesmen for these so-called “heroes from the past.”’

‘Why do you say ‘so-called’, Master Emuda?’ Tynian asked him. Sir Tynian still had his right arm in a sling.

‘Isn’t it obvious, Sir Knight?’ Emuda’s tone was just slightly condescending. ‘The notion of resurrecting the dead is an absurdity. It’s all quite obviously a hoax. Some henchman is dressed in ancient clothing, appears in a flash of light—which any country-fair charlatan can contrive—and then starts babbling gibberish, which the “spokesman” identifies as an ancient language. Yes, it’s clearly a hoax.’

‘How clever of you to have unmasked it,’ Sephrenia murmured. ‘We all thought it was magic of some kind.’

‘There’s no such thing as magic, madame.’

‘Really?’ she replied mildly. ‘What an amazing thing.’

‘I’d stake my reputation on that.’

‘How courageous of you.’

‘You say that Scarpa was the first of these revolutionaries to appear?’ Vanion asked him.

‘By more than a year, Sir Knight. The first reports of his activities began to appear in diplomatic dispatches from the capital at Arjuna just over four years ago. The next to emerge was Baron Parok of Daconia, and I have a sworn statement from a ship-captain that Scarpa sailed from Kaftal in southwestern Arjuna to Alar in Daconia. Alar is Baron Parok’s home, and he began his activities about three years ago. The connection is obvious.’

‘It would seem so, wouldn’t it?’ Sparhawk mused.

‘From Alar I have documented evidence of the travels of the two. Parok went into Edam, where he actually stayed in the home town of Rebal—that connection gave me a bit of trouble, since Rebal isn’t using his real name. We’ve identified his home district, though, and the town Parok visited is the district capital. I think I’m safe in assuming that a meeting took’ place during Parok’s visit. While Parok was in Edam, Scarpa travelled all the way up into Astel. I can’t exactly pinpoint his travels there, but I know he moved around quite a bit just to the north of the marches on the Edomish-Astellian border, and that’s the region where Sabre makes his headquarters. The disturbances in Edam and Astel began some time after Scarpa and Parok had journeyed into those kingdoms. The evidence of connection between the four men is all very conclusive.’

‘What about these reports of supernatural events?’ Tynian asked.

‘More hoaxes, Sir Knight.’ Emuda’s expression was offensively superior. ‘Pure charlatanism. You may have noticed that they always occur out in the countryside where the only witnesses are superstitious peasants and ignorant serfs. Civilised people would not be fooled by such obvious trickery.’

‘I wondered about that,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Are you sure about this timetable of yours? Scarpa was the first to start stirring things up?’

‘Definitely, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘Then he contacted the others and enlisted them? Perhaps a year and a half later?’ Emuda nodded. ‘Where did he go when he left Astel after recruiting Sabre?’