The Ruby Knight Part 44

A little later, when Wargun was conferring with his troop commander, Sparhawk relayed the gist of their conversation to his companions.

"He's not any more reasonable when he's sober, is he?" Kalten said.

"From his own standpoint, he's right, though," Tynian observed. "The politics of the situation dictate that we do everything we can to get all the Preceptors back to Chyrellos before Cluvonus dies. I doubt that he cares much one way or the other about Ehlana. There's one other possibility, though. We're in Deira now, and Obler's the king here. He's a very wise old man. If we explain the situation to him, he might overrule Wargun."

"I don't think I'd care to hang Ehlana's life on that slim a possibility," Sparhawk said. He turned to rejoin Wargun.

Despite Flute's a.s.surances concerning the actual elapsed time their journey had consumed, Sparhawk was still impatient. The apparent slow pace nagged at him. While he could intellectually accept what she said, he could not come to grips with it emotionally. Twenty days is twenty days to one's senses, and Sparhawk's senses were strung wire-taut just now. He began to have dark thoughts. Things had been going wrong so consistently that seeming premonitions tugged at his mind. He began to think about the forthcoming encounter with Ghwerig with a great deal less certainty about the outcome.

At around noon they reached Acie, the capital city of the kingdom of Deira. The Deiran army was encamped around the city, and their camp was bustling with activity as they prepared for the march south.

Wargun had been drinking again, but he looked around with satisfaction. "Good," he said. "They're almost ready. Come along, Sparhawk, and bring your friends. Let's go talk to Obler."

As they rode through the narrow, cobbled streets of Acie, Talen pulled his horse in beside Sparhawk's. "I'm going to drop behind a ways," he said very quietly. "I want to look around. Getting away in the open countryside's very hard. This is a town, though, and there are always lots of places to hide in towns. King Wargun's not going to miss me. He hardly knows I'm along. If I can find us a good hiding Place, maybe we can slip away to it and stay there until the army moves out. Then we can make a run for Thalesia."

"Just be very careful."

"Naturally."

A few streets farther on, Sephrenia reined in sharply and pulled her white palfrey off to the side of the street. She and Flute quickly dismounted and went to the entrance of a narrow alley to greet an aged Styric with a long, snowy beard who wore an intensely white robe. Some sort of ritual ceremony seemed to take place between the three of them, but Sparhawk could not quite make out the details.

Sephrenia and Flute spoke earnestly to the old man at some length, and then he bowed in acknowledgement and went back on up the alley.

"What was that all about?" Wargun asked suspiciously when Sephrenia and the little girl rejoined them.

"He's an old friend, Your Majesty," Sephrenia replied, "and the most revered and wise man in all of western Styric.u.m."

"A king, you mean?"

"That's a word that has no meaning in Styric.u.m, Your Majesty," she told him.

"How can you have a government if you don't have a king?"

"There are other ways, Your Majesty, and besides, Styrics have outgrown the need for government."

"That's absurd."

"Many things seem that way - at first. It may come to you Elenes in time."

"That's a very infuriating woman sometimes, Sparhawk," Wargun growled, pus.h.i.+ng his horse back to the front of the column.

"Sparhawk," Flute said very lightly.

"Yes?"

"The task here in Acie is complete. We can leave for Thalesia at any time now."

"How do you propose to manage that?"

"I'll tell you later. Go and keep Wargun company. He gets lonely without you."

The palace was not a particularly imposing building. It looked to be more like a complex of administrative offices than something built for ostentation and display. "I don't know how Obler can live in this hovel," Wargun said disdainfully, swaying in his saddle. "You there," he bellowed at one of the guards posted at the main door, "go and tell Obler that Wargun of Thalesia has arrived. We need to confer about a few things."

"At once, Your Majesty." The guard saluted and went inside.

Wargun dismounted and unhooked the wineskin from the skirt of his saddle. He uncorked it" and took a long drink. "I hope Obler's got some chilled ale," he said. "This wine's beginning to sour my stomach."

The guard returned. "King Obler will receive you, Your Majesty," he said. "Please follow me."

"I know the way," Wargun replied. "I've been here before. Have somebody see to our horses." He blinked his bloodshot eyes at Sparhawk. "Come along then," he commanded. He did not appear to have missed Talen.

They trooped through the unadorned hallways of King Oblers palace and found the aged king of Deira sitting behind a large table littered with maps and papers.

"Sorry to be so late, Obler," Wargun said, untying his purple cloak and dropping it on the floor. "I made a swing through Pelosia to pick up Soros and an army of sorts."

He sprawled out in a chair. "I'm afraid I'm rather out of touch. What's been going on?"

The Rendors have laid siege to Larium," the white-haired king of Deira replied. "The Alciones, Genidians and Cyrinics are holding the city, and the Pandions are out in the countryside dealing with Rendorish raiding parties."

That's more or less what I'd expected," Wargun grunted. "Can you send for some ale, Obler? My stomach's been bothering me for the past few days. You remember Sparhawk, don't you?"

"Of course. He's the man who saved Count Radun down in Arcium."

"And this one is Kalten. The big one there is Ulath. The one with the dark skin is Bevier, and I'm sure you know Tynian. The Styric woman is called Sephrenia - I'm not really sure about her real name. I'm sure neither one of us could even p.r.o.nounce it. She teaches the Pandions magic, and that adorable child there is her little girl. The other two work for Sparhawk. I wouldn't aggravate either one of them." He looked around, his eyes bleary.

"What happened to that boy you had with you?" he asked Sparhawk.

"Probably exploring," Sparhawk replied blandly.

"Political discussions bore him."

"Sometimes they bore me as well," Wargun said. He looked back at King Obler. "Have the Elenes mobilized yet?"

"My agents have found no evidence of it."

Wargun started to swear. "I think I'll stop in Cimmura on my way south and hang that young b.a.s.t.a.r.d Lycheas."

"I'll lend you a rope, Your Majesty," Kalten offered.

Wargun laughed. "What's happening in Chyrellos, Obler?"

"Cluvonus is in delirium," Obler replied. "He can't last much longer, I'm afraid. Most of the major churchmen are already there preparing for the election of his successor."

"The Primate of Cimmura, most likely," Wargun growled sourly. He took a tankard of ale from a servant.

"That's all right, boy," he said. "Just leave the keg." His voice was slurred. "This is the way I see it, Obler. We'd better get to Larium as quickly as we can. We'll push the Rendors back into the sea so that the militant orders can go to Chyrellos and keep Annias from becoming Archprelate. If that happens, we may have to declare war."

"On the Church?" Obler sounded startled.

"Archprelate's have been deposed before, Obler. Annias won't have any use for a miter if he doesn't have a head. Sparhawk has already volunteered to use his knife."

"You'll start a general civil war, Wargun. No one has directly confronted the Church for centuries."

"Then maybe it's about time. Anything else happening?"

"The Earl of Lenda and Preceptor Vanion of the Pandion order arrived no more than an hour ago," Obler said. "They wanted to get cleaned up. I sent for them just as soon as I'd heard that you'd arrived. They'll join us in a bit."

"Good. We'll be able to settle a lot of things here then. What's the date?"

King Obler told him.

"Your calendar must be wrong, Obler," Wargun said after counting days off on his fingers.

"What did you do with Soros?" Obler asked.

"I came close to killing him," Wargun growled. "I've never seen anybody pray that much when there " was work to be done. I sent him down into Lamorkand to pick up the barons down there. He's riding at the head of the army, but Bergsten's actually the one in charge. Bergsten would make a good Archprelate, if we could ever get him out of that armour." He laughed. "Can you imagine the reaction of the Hierocracy to an Archprelate in a mail s.h.i.+rt and a horned helmet and with a battle"-axe in his hands?"

"It might enliven the Church a bit, Wargun," Obler conceded with a faint smile.

"G.o.d knows she needs it," Wargun said. "She's been acting like a frigid old maid since Cluvonus fell ill."

"Would Your Majesties excuse me?" Sparhawk asked deferentially. "I'd like to look in on Vanion. We haven't seen each other for a while, and there are things I need to report to him."

"More of this everlasting Church business?" Wargun asked.

"You know how it is, Your Majesty.

"No, thank G.o.d, I don't. Go ahead, Knight of the Church. Talk with your father superior, but don't keep him too long. We've got important business here."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sparhawk bowed to the two kings and quietly left the room.

Vanion was trying to struggle into his armour when Sparhawk entered the room. He stared at his subordinate in some astonishment. "What are you doing here, Sparhawk?" he demanded. "I thought you were in Lamorkand."

"Just pa.s.sing through, Vanion," Sparhawk replied.

"Some things have changed. I'll give you the gist of it now, and we can fill you in on more detail after King Wargun goes to bed." He looked critically at his Preceptor. "You're looking tired, my friend."

"Old age," Vanion said ruefully, "and all of those swords I made Sephrenia give me are getting heavier every day. You know that Olven died?"

"Yes. His ghost brought his sword to Sephrenia."

"I was afraid of that. I'll take it away from her."

Sparhawk tapped Vanion's breast-plate with one knuckle. "You don't have to wear this, you know. Oblers fairly informal, and Wargun doesn't even know what the word formal means."

"Appearances, my friend," Vanion said, "and the honour of the Church. Sometimes it's boring, I'll admit, but - " He shrugged. "Help me into this contraption, Sparhawk. You can talk while you're tightening straps and buckling buckles."

"Yes, My Lord Vanion." Sparhawk began to a.s.sist his friend into the suit of armour, briefly summarizing the events which had taken place in Lamorkand and Pelosia.

"Why didn't you chase down the Troll?" Vanion asked him. "Some things came up," Sparhawk said, fastening Vanion's black cape to his shoulder-plates, " - Wargun for one thing. I even offered to fight him, but Patriarch Bergsten interfered."

"You challenged a king?" Vanion looked stunned.

"It seemed appropriate at the time, Vanion."

"Oh, my friend," Vanion sighed.

"We'd better get going," Sparhawk said. "There's a lot more to tell you but Wargun's getting impatient."

Sparhawk squinted at Vanion's armour. "Brace yourself," he said. "You're lopsided." Then he banged both of his fists down on Vanion's shoulder plates. "There," he said.

"That's better."

"Thanks," Vanion said drily, his knees buckling slightly.

"The honour of the order, My Lord. I don't want you to look as if you were dressed in cheap tin plates."

Vanion decided not to answer that.

The Earl of Lenda was in the room when Sparhawk and Vanion entered.

"There you are, Vanion," King Wargun said. "Now we can get started. What's happening down in Arcium?"

"The situation hasn't changed all that much, Your Majesty. The Rendors are still besieging Larium, but the Genidians, Cyrinics and Alciones are inside the walls along with most of the Arcian army."

"Is the city in any real danger?"

"Hardly. It's built like a mountain. You know the Arcian fondness for stone-work. It could probably hold out for twenty Years." Vanion looked over at Sparhawk. "I saw an old friend of yours down there," he said. "Martel appears to be in command of the Rendorish army."

"I'd more or less guessed that. I thought I'd nailed his feet to the floor down in Rendor, but apparently he managed to talk his way around Arasham."

"He really didn't have to," King Obler said. "Arasham died a month ago - under highly suspicious circ.u.mstances."

"It sounds as if Martel's had his hand in the poison jar again," Kalten said.

"Who's the new spiritual leader in Rendor then?" Sparhawk asked.

"A man named Ulesim," King Obler replied. "I gather he was one of Arasham's disciples."

Sparhawk laughed. "Arasham didn't even know he existed. I've met Ulesim. The man's an idiot. He won't last six months."

"Anyway," Vanion continued, "I have the Pandion order out in the countryside dealing with Rendorish foraging parties. Martel's going to start getting hungry before long. That's about all, Your Majesty," he concluded.

"Nice and to the point. Thanks, Vanion. Lenda, what's going on in Cimmura?"

"Things are about the same, Your Majesty - except that Annias has gone to Chyrellos."

"And he's probably perched on the foot of the Archprelate's bed like a vulture," Wargun surmised.