David Eddings - The Sapphire Rose

At dusk six days later, they crested a hill and looked down at the smoky torches and candlelit windows of the capital of Thalesia. ‘You’d better wait here,’ Kurik said to Sparhawk and Sephrenia. ‘Wargun’s probably spread descriptions of you through every city in Eosia by now. I’ll go into town and locate Talen. We’ll see what we can find in the way of a ship.’

‘Will you be all right?’ Sephrenia asked. ‘Wargun could have sent out your description as well, you know.’

‘King Wargun’s a nobleman,’ Kurik growled. ‘Nobles pay very little attention to servants.’

‘You’re not a servant,’ Sparhawk objected.

‘That’s how I’m defined, Sparhawk, and that’s how Wargun saw me – when he was sober enough to see anything. I’ll waylay some traveller and steal his clothes. That should get me by in Emsat. Give me some money in case I have to bribe some people.’

‘Elenes,’ Sephrenia sighed as Sparhawk led her back some distance from the road and Kurik rode at a walk on down towards the city. ‘How did I ever get involved with such unscrupulous people?’

The dusk faded slowly, and the tall, resinous fir trees around them turned into looming shadows. Sparhawk tethered Faran, their packhorse and Ch’iel, Sephrenia’s white palfrey. Then he spread his cloak on a mossy bank for her to sit on.

‘What’s troubling you, Sparhawk?’ she asked him.

‘Tired maybe,’ he tried to shrug it off, ‘and there’s always a kind of let-down after you’ve finished something.’

‘There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?’

He nodded. ‘I wasn’t really prepared for what happened in that cave. It all seemed very immediate and personal somehow.’

She nodded. ‘I’m not trying to be offensive, Sparhawk, but the Elene religion has become institutionalized, and it’s very hard to love an institution. The Gods of Styricum have a much more personal relationship with their devotees.’

‘I think I prefer being an Elene. It’s easier. Personal relationships with Gods are very upsetting.’

‘But don’t you love Aphrael – just a little?’

‘Of course I do. I was a lot more comfortable with her when she was just Flute, but I still love her.’ He made a face. ‘You’re leading me in the direction of heresy, little mother,’ he accused.

‘Not really. For the time being, all Aphrael wants is your love. She hasn’t asked you for your worship – yet.’

‘It’s that “yet” that concerns me. Isn’t this a rather peculiar time and place for a theological discussion, though?’

There was the sound of horses on the road, and the unseen riders reined in not far from where Sparhawk and Sephrenia were concealed. Sparhawk rose quickly, his hand going to his sword-hilt.

‘They have to be around here somewhere,’ a rough voice declared. ‘That was his man who just rode into the city.’

‘I don’t know about you two,’ another voice said, ‘but I’m not really all that eager to find him, myself.’

‘There are three of us,’ the first voice declared pugnaciously.

‘Do you think that would really make any difference to him? He’s a Church Knight. He could probably cut all three of us down without even working up a sweat. We’re not going to be able to spend the money if we’re all dead.’

‘He’s got a point there,’ a third voice agreed. ‘I think the best idea is just to locate him for now. Once we know where he is and which way he’s going, we’ll be able to set up an ambush for him. Church Knight or not, an arrow in his back ought to make him docile. Let’s keep looking. The woman’s riding a white horse. That should make it easier to locate them.’

The horses moved on, and Sparhawk slid his half-drawn sword back into its scabbard.

‘Are they Wargun’s men?’ Sephrenia whispered to Sparhawk.

‘I wouldn’t think so,’ Sparhawk murmured. ‘Wargun’s a little erratic, but he’s not the sort of man who sends out paid assassins. He wants to yell at me and maybe throw me in his dungeon for a while. I don’t think he’s angry enough with me to want to murder me – at least I hope not.’

‘Someone else, then?’

‘Probably.’ Sparhawk frowned. ‘I don’t seem to recall having offended anyone in Thalesia lately, though.’

‘Annias has a long arm, dear one,’ she reminded him.

‘That might be it, little mother. Let’s lie low and keep our ears open until Kurik comes back.’

After about an hour they heard the slow plodding of another horse coming up the rutted road from Emsat. The horse stopped at the top of the hill. ‘Sparhawk?’ The quiet voice was vaguely familiar.

Sparhawk quickly put his hand to his sword hilt, and he and Sephrenia exchanged a quick glance.

‘I know you’re in there somewhere, Sparhawk. It’s me, Tel, so don’t get excited. Your man said you wanted to go into Emsat. Stragen sent me to fetch you.’

‘We’re over here,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Wait. We’ll be right out.’ He and Sephrenia led their horses to the road to meet the flaxen-haired brigand who had escorted them to the town of Heid on their journey to Ghwerig’s cave. ‘Can you get us into the city?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Nothing easier,’ Tel shrugged.

‘How do we get past the guards at the gate?’

‘We just ride on through. The gate guards work for Stragen. It makes things a lot simpler. Shall we go?’

Emsat was a northern city, and the steep-pitched roofs of the houses bespoke the heavy snows of winter. The streets were narrow and crooked, and there were only a few people abroad. Sparhawk, however, looked about warily, remembering the three cut-throats on the road outside town.

‘Be kind of careful with Stragen, Sparhawk,’ Tel cautioned as they rode into a seedy district near the waterfront. ‘He’s the bastard son of an earl, and he’s a little touchy about his origins. He likes to have us address him as “Milord”. It’s foolish, but he’s a good leader, so we play his games.’ He pointed down a garbage-littered street. ‘We go this way.’

‘How’s Talen getting along?’

‘He’s settled in now, but he was seriously put out with you when he first got here. He called you some names I’d never even heard before.’

‘I can imagine.’ Sparhawk decided to confide in the brigand. He knew Tel, and he was at least partially sure he could trust him. ‘Some people rode by the place where we were hiding before you came,’ he said. ‘They were looking for us. Were those some of your men?’

‘No,’ Tel replied. ‘I came alone.’

‘I sort of thought you might have. These fellows were talking about shooting me full of arrows. Would Stragen be involved in that sort of thing in any way?’

‘Out of the question, Sparhawk,’ Tel said quite firmly. ‘You and your friends have thieves’ sanctuary. Stragen would never violate that. I’ll talk to Stragen about it. He’ll see to it that these itinerant bowmen stay out of your hair.’ Tel laughed a chilling little laugh. ‘He’ll probably be more upset with them because they’ve gone into business for themselves than because they threaten you, though. Nobody cuts a throat or steals a penny in Emsat without Stragen’s permission. He’s very keen about that.’ The blond brigand led them to a boarded-up warehouse at the far end of the street. They rode around to the back, dismounted and were admitted by a pair of burly cut-throats standing guard at the door.

The interior of the warehouse belied the shabby exterior. It appeared only slightly less opulent than a palace. There were crimson drapes covering the boarded-up windows, deep blue carpets on the creaky floors and tapestries concealing the rough plank walls. A semicircular staircase of polished wood curved up to a second floor, and a crystal chandelier threw soft, glowing candlelight over the entryway.