David Eddings - The Ruby Knight

‘That’s a delicate way to put it,’ Kalten whispered to Sparhawk.

‘Be still,’ Sparhawk whispered back.

‘The lady was dispatched – naked, I’m afraid – to her brother’s castle. Reconciliation is now quite impossible. Gerrich has many allies, as do I, and western Lamorkand now hovers on the brink of general war.’

‘A melancholy tale, My Lord,’ Sparhawk said sadly.

‘The impending war is my concern. What is important now is to remove my brother from this house and to convey him safely to Chyrellos. Should he also fall during Gerrich’s attack, the Church will have no choice but to send in her Knights. The murder of a Patriarch – particularly one who is a strong candidate for elevation to the Archprelacy – would be a crime she could not ignore. Thus it is that I implore you to safeguard him on his way to the Holy City.’

‘One question, My Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘The activities of this Cammorian Knight have a familiar ring to them. Can you describe him and his underlings to us?’

‘The knight himself is a tall man with an arrogant bearing. One of his companions is a huge brute, scarcely human. The other is a rabbity fellow with an excessive fondness for strong drink.’

‘Sounds a bit like some old friends, doesn’t it?’ Kalten said to Sparhawk. ‘Was there anything unusual about this knight?’

‘His hair was absolutely white,’ Alstrom replied, ‘and he was not that old.’

‘Martel certainly moves around, doesn’t he?’ Kalten observed.

‘You know this man, Sir Kalten?’ the baron asked.

‘The white-haired man is named Martel,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘His two hirelings are Adus and Krager. Martel’s a renegade Pandion Knight who hires out his services in various parts of the world. Most recently, he’s been working for the Primate of Cimmura.’

‘But what would be the Primate’s purpose in fomenting discord between Gerrich and me?’

‘You’ve already touched on that, My Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘The Preceptors of the four militant orders are firmly opposed to the notion of Annias sitting on the Archprelate’s throne. They will be present – and voting – during the election in the Basilica of Chyrellos, and their opinion carries great weight with the Hierocracy. Moreover, the Knights of the Church would respond immediately to the first hint of any irregularities in the election. If Annias is to succeed, he must get the Church Knights out of Chyrellos before the election. We were recently able to thwart a plot that Martel was hatching in Rendor that would have pulled the Knights out of the Holy City. It’s my guess that this unhappy affair you told us about is yet another. Martel, acting on orders from Annias, is roaming the world building bonfires in the hope that sooner or later the Knights of the Church will be forced to move out of Chyrellos to extinguish them.’

‘Is Annias truly so depraved?’ Ortzel asked.

‘Your Grace, Annias will do anything to ascend that throne. I’m positive that he’d order the massacre of half of Eosia to get what he wants.’

‘How is it possible for a Churchman to stoop so low?’

‘Ambition, Your Grace,’ Bevier said sadly. ‘Once it sinks its claws into a man’s heart, the man becomes blind to all else.’

‘This is all the more reason to get my brother safely to Chyrellos,’ Alstrom said gravely. ‘He is much respected by the other members of the Hierocracy, and his voice will carry great weight in their deliberations.’

‘I must advise you and your brother, My Lord Alstrom, that there is a certain risk involved in your plan,’ Sparhawk warned them. ‘We are being pursued. There are those bent on thwarting us in our quest. Since your brother’s safety is your first concern, I should tell you that I cannot guarantee it. The ones who are pursuing us are determined and very dangerous.’ He spoke obliquely, since neither Alstrom or Ortzel would give him much credence if he told them the bald truth about the nature of the Seeker.

‘I’m afraid I have no real choice in the matter, Sir Sparhawk. With this anticipated siege hanging over my head, I have to get my brother out of the castle, no matter what the risk.’

‘As long as you understand, My Lord,’ Sparhawk sighed. ‘Our mission is of the gravest urgency, but this matter overshadows even that.’

‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia gasped.

‘We have no choice, little mother,’ he told her. ‘We absolutely must get His Grace safely out of Lamorkand and to Chyrellos. The Baron was right. If anything happens to his brother, the Church Knights will ride out of Chyrellos to retaliate. Nothing could prevent it. We’ll have to take His Grace to the Holy City and then try to make up for lost time.’

‘What precisely is the object of your search, Sir Sparhawk?’ the Patriarch of Kadach asked.

‘As Sir Ulath explained, we are forced to resort to magic to restore the Queen of Elenia to health, and there’s only one thing in the world with that much power. We’re on our way to the great battlefield at Lake Randera to seek out the jewel which once surmounted the royal crown of Thalesia.’

‘Bhelliom?’ Ortzel was shocked. ‘Surely you would not bring that accursed thing to light again?’

‘We have no choice, Your Grace. Only Bhelliom can restore my queen.’

‘But Bhelliom is tainted. All the wickedness of the Troll-Gods infects it.’

‘The Troll-Gods aren’t all that bad, Your Grace,’ Ulath said. ‘They’re capricious, I’ll grant you, but they’re not truly evil.’

‘The Elene God forbids consorting with them.’

‘The Elene God is wise, Your Grace,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘He has also forbidden contact with the Gods of Styricum. He made an exception to his prohibition, however, when the time came to form the militant orders. The Younger Gods of Styricum agreed to assist Him in His design. One wonders if He might not also be able to enlist the aid of the Troll-Gods. He is, I understand, most persuasive.’

‘Blasphemy!’ Ortzel gasped.

‘No, Your Grace, not really. I am Styric and therefore not subject to Elene theology.’

‘Hadn’t we better get going?’ Ulath suggested. ‘It’s a long ride to Chyrellos, and we need to get His Grace out of this castle before the fighting starts.’

‘Well put, my laconic friend,’ Tynian approved.

‘I shall make ready at once,’ Ortzel said, going to the door. ‘We will be able to depart within the hour.’ And he went out.

‘How long do you think it’s likely to be before the count’s forces reach here, My Lord?’ Tynian asked the baron.

‘No more than a day, Sir Tynian. I have friends who are impeding his march northward from his keep, but he has a sizeable army, and I’m certain he will soon break his way through.’

‘Talen,’ Sparhawk said sharply, ‘put it back.’

The boy made a wry face and laid a small dagger with a jewelled hilt back on the table from which he had taken it. ‘I didn’t think you were watching,’ he said.

‘Don’t ever make that mistake,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I always watch you.’

The baron looked puzzled.

‘The boy has not yet learned to grasp some of the finer points of property ownership, My Lord,’ Kalten said lightly. ‘We’ve been trying to teach him, but he’s a slow learner.’

Talen sighed and took up his sketch pad and pencil. Then he sat at a table on the far side of the room and began to draw. He was, Sparhawk remembered, very talented.

‘I am most grateful to you all, gentlemen,’ the baron was saying. ‘The safety of my brother has been my only concern. Now I shall be able to concentrate on the business at hand.’ He looked at Sparhawk. ‘Do you think you might possibly encounter this Martel person during the course of your quest?’