David Eddings - The Complete Elenium Trilogy - The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight, The Sapphire Rose

‘Sometimes I forget,’ he said. Then he smiled slyly at her. ‘My overwhelming concern with the conversion of the heathen fills all my waking thoughts. Tell me, Sephrenia, are you ready at last to put aside your pagan ways and embrace the true faith?’

‘Not yet, Dolmant,’ she replied, also smiling. ‘It was nice of you to ask, though.’

He laughed. ‘I thought I’d get the question out of the way early so we can converse without having it hanging over our heads.’ He looked curiously at Flute, who was walking about the room examining the furnishings. ‘And who is this beautiful child?’ he asked.

‘She’s a foundling, your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We came across her near the Arcian border. She doesn’t talk, so we call her Flute.’

Dolmant looked at the little girl’s grass-stained feet. ‘And was there no time to bath her?’ he asked.

‘That would not be appropriate, your Grace,’ Sephrenia replied.

The patriarch looked puzzled at that. Then he looked again at Flute. ‘Come over here, child,’ he said.

Flute approached him warily.

‘And will you not speak – even to me?’

She raised her pipes and blew a questioning little note.

‘I see,’ Dolmant said. ‘Well, then, Flute, will you accept my blessing?’

She looked at him gravely, then shook her head.

‘She is a Styric child, Dolmant,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘An Elene blessing would have no meaning for her.’

Flute then reached out and took the patriarch’s thin hand and placed it over her heart. Dolmant’s eyes grew suddenly very wide and his expression troubled.

‘She will give you her blessing, however,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘And will you accept it?’

Dolmant’s eyes were still wide. ‘I think perhaps that I should not,’ he said, ‘but God help me, I will – and gladly.’

Flute smiled at him and then kissed both of his palms. Then she pirouetted away, her black hair flying and her pipes sounding joyously. The patriarch’s face was filled with wonder.

‘I expect that I’ll be summoned to the palace as soon as King Wargun arrives,’ Vanion said. ‘Annias wouldn’t want to miss the chance to confront me personally.’ He looked at Count Radun. ‘Did anyone see you arrive, my Lord?’ he asked.

Radun shook his head. ‘I had my visor down, my Lord Vanion, and at Sparhawk’s suggestion, I had covered the crest on my shield. I’m positive that no one knows that I’m in Cimmura.’

‘Good.’ Vanion grinned suddenly. ‘We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for Annias, would we?’

The expected summons from the palace arrived two days later. Vanion, Sparhawk, and Kalten put on the simple robes Pandions customarily wore inside the chapterhouse, though beneath them they wore mail coats and their swords. Dolmant and Radun wore the cowled black robes of monks. Sephrenia wore her usual white. She had spoken at some length with Flute, and it appeared that the little girl had agreed to remain behind. Kurik belted on a sword. ‘Just in case there’s trouble,’ he grunted to Sparhawk before the party left the chapterhouse.

The day was cold and raw. The sky was leaden, and a chill wind whistled through the streets of Cimmura as Vanion led them towards the palace. There were few people abroad in the streets. Sparhawk could not be sure if the citizens were staying inside because of the weather or because some rumours had leaked out about the possibility of trouble.

Not too far from the palace gate, Sparhawk saw a familiar figure. A lame beggar boy wrapped in a ragged cloak crutched his way out from the corner where he had been sheltering himself. ‘Charity, my Lords, Charity,’ he begged in a broken-hearted voice.

Sparhawk reined Faran in and reached inside his robe for a few coins.

‘I need to talk with you, Sparhawk,’ the boy said quietly after the others had ridden out of earshot.

‘Later,’ Sparhawk replied, bending in his saddle to place the coins in the boy’s begging bowl.

‘Not too much later, I hope,’ Talen said, shivering. ‘I’m freezing out here.’

There was a brief delay at the palace gate where the guards tried to deny entrance to Vanion’s escort. Kalten resolved the problem by pulling open his robe and putting his hand meaningfully on his sword hilt. The discussion ended abruptly at that point, and the party rode on into the palace courtyard and dismounted.

‘I love doing that,’ Kalten said blithely.

‘It doesn’t take very much to make you happy, does it?’ Sparhawk said.

‘I’m a simple man, my friend – with simple pleasures.’

They proceeded directly to the blue-draped council chamber where the kings of Arcium, Deira, and Thalesia sat on throne-like chairs, flanking the slack-lipped Lycheas. Behind each king stood a man in formal armour. The crests of the three other militant orders were emblazoned on their surcoats. Abriel, Preceptor of the Cyrinic Knights in Arcium, stood sternly behind King Dregos; Darellon, Preceptor of the Alcione Knights of Deira had taken up a similar position behind the aged King Obler; and the big-boned Komier, leader of the Genidian Knights, stood behind King Wargun of Thalesia. Although it was early in the day, Wargun was already bleary-eyed. He held a large silver cup in a hand that was visibly shaking.

The Royal Council of Advisors sat to one side of the room. The face of the Earl of Lenda was troubled, while that of the Baron Harparin was smug.

The Primate Annias wore a purple satin cassock, and the expression on his emaciated face was coldly triumphant as Vanion entered. When he saw the rest of them accompanying the Pandion Preceptor, however, his eyes flashed angrily. ‘Who authorized this entourage of yours, Lord Vanion?’ he demanded. ‘The summons did not mention an escort.’

‘I require no authorization, your Grace,’ Vanion answered coldly. ‘My rank is all the authority I need.’

‘That’s true,’ the Earl of Lenda said. ‘Law and custom support the preceptor’s position.’

Annias gave the old man a look filled with hate. ‘What a comfort it is to have the advice of one so versed in the law,’ he said in a sarcastic voice. Then his eyes fell on Sephrenia. ‘Remove that Styric witch from my presence,’ he demanded.

‘No,’ Vanion said. ‘She stays.’

Their eyes locked for a long moment, and Annias finally looked away. ‘Very well, then, Vanion,’ he said. ‘Because of the seriousness of the matter I am about to present to their majesties, I will control my natural revulsion at the presence of a heathen sorceress.’

‘You’re too kind,’ Sephrenia murmured.

‘Just get on with it, Annias,’ King Dregos said irritably. ‘We’re gathered here to examine certain irregularities involving the throne of Elenia. What is this burning matter that is important enough to delay our inquiry?’

Annias straightened. ‘The matter concerns you directly, your Majesty. Last week a body of armed men attacked a castle in the eastern part of your kingdom.’

King Dregos’ eyes blazed. ‘Why was I not informed?’ he demanded.

‘Forgive me, your Majesty,’ Annias apologized. ‘I myself learned of the incident only recently and I felt it wiser to present the matter to this council rather than to advise you in advance. Although this outrage occurred within the boundaries of your kingdom, the implications of it spread beyond your borders to all four western kingdoms.’

‘Get on with it, Annias,’ King Wargun growled. ‘Save the flowery language for your sermons.’

‘As your Majesty wishes,’ Annias said, bowing. ‘There are witnesses to this criminal act, and I think perhaps it were best that your Majesties hear their accounts directly rather than at second hand from me.’ He turned and gestured to one of the red-liveried church soldiers who lined both walls of the council chamber. The soldier stepped to a side door and admitted a nervous-looking man whose face went visibly pale when he saw Vanion.