kind of overall decision on his own. He’ll have to consult with his
counterparts in other cities in the empire.’
‘That shouldn’t take more than a year or so,’ Sparhawk noted drily.
‘Hardly,’ Stragen disagreed. ‘Thieves move much more rapidly than honest
men. Kondrak’s going to send out word of what we’re trying to accomplish.
He’ll put ‘ it in the best possible light, so there’s a very good chance
that ‘the thieves of all the kingdoms in the empire will co-operate.’
‘How will we know their decision?’ Tynian asked him. ‘I’ll make courtesy
calls each time we come to a fair-‘.
sized city,’ Stragen shrugged. ‘Sooner or later I’ll get an official reply.
It shouldn’t take all that long. We’ll certainly have a final decision by
the time we reach Matherion.’ He looked speculatively at Ehlana. ‘Your
Majesty’s learned a great deal about the subterranean government in the
past few years,’ he noted. ‘Do you suppose we could put that information on
the level of a state secret? We’re perfectly willing to co-operate and even
assist on occasion, but we’d be much happier if the other monarchs of the
world didn’t know too much about the way we operate. Some crusader might
decide to smash the secret government, and that would inconvenience us a
bit.’
‘What’s it worth to you, Milord Stragen?’ she teased him. His eyes grew
very serious. ‘It’s a decision you’ll have to make for yourself, Ehlana,’
he told her, cutting across rank and customary courtesies. ‘I’ve tried to
assist you whenever I could because I’m genuinely fond of you. If you make
a little conversational slip, though, and other monarchs find out things
they shouldn’t know, I won’t be able to do that any more.’
‘You’d abandon me, Milord Stragen?’
‘Never, my Queen, but my colleagues would have me killed, and I wouldn’t
really be of much use to you in that condition, now would I?
Archimandrite Morsel was a large, impressive man with piercing black eyes
and an imposing black beard. It was a forceful beard, an assertive beard, a
beard impossible to overlook, and the Archimandrite used it like a
battering ram. It preceded him by a yard wherever he went. It bristled when
he was irritated – which was often and in damp weather it knotted up into
snarls like half a mile of cheap fishing line. The beard waggled when
Morsel talked, emphasising points all on its own. Patriarch Emban was
absolutely fascinated by the Archimandrite’s beard. ‘It’s like talking to
an animated hedge,’ he observed to Sparhawk as the two of them walked
through the corridors of ‘the palace toward a private audience with the
Astellian ecclesiast. ‘Are there any topics I should avoid, your Grace?’
Sparhawk asked. ‘i’m not familiar with the Church of Astel, and I don’t
want to start any theological debates.’
‘Our disagreements with the Astels are in the field of Church government,
Sparhawk. Our purely theological differences are very minor. We have a
secular clergy, but their Church is monastically organised. Our priests are
just priests, theirs are also monks. I’ll grant you that it’s a fine
distinction, but it’s a distinction nonetheless. They also have many, many
more priests and monks than we do – probably about a tenth of the
population.’
‘That many?’
‘Oh, yes. Every noble mansion in Astel has its own private chapel and its
own priest, and the prieSt ‘assists’ in making decisions.’
‘Where do they find so many men willing to enter the priesthood?’
‘From the ranks of the serfs. Being a clergyman has its drawbacks, but
it’s better than being a serf.’
‘I suppose the Church would be preferable.’
‘Much. Morsel will respect you, because you’re a member of a religious
order. Oh, incidentally, since you’re the interim preceptor of the Pandion
Knights, you’re technically a patriarch. Don’t be surprised if he addresses
you as ‘your Grace.’ They were admitted into Morsel’s chambers by a
long-bearded monk. Sparhawk had noticed that all Astellian clergymen wore
beards. The room was small and panelled in dark wood. The carpet was a deep
maroon, and the heavy drapes at the windows were black. There were books
and scrolls and dog-eared sheets of parchment everywhere. ‘Ah, Emban,’
Morsel said. ‘What have you been up tO? ”Mischief, Morsel. I’ve been out
proselytising among the heathens.’
‘Really? Where did you find any here? I thought most heathens lived in the
Basilica in Chyrellos. Sit down, gentlemen. I’ll send for some wine and we
can debate theologY.’
‘you’ve met Sparhawk?’ Emban asked as they all took chairs before an open
window where the breeze billowed the black drapes. ‘Briefly,’ Morsel
replied. ‘How are you today, your Highness?’ well. And you, your Grace?’
‘Curious, more than anything. Why are we engaging in private
consultations?’
‘We’re all clergymen, your Grace,’ Emban pointed out. ‘Sparhawk wears a
cassock made of steel most of the time, but he is of the clergy. We’ve come
to discuss something that probably concerns you as much as it does us. I
think I know you well enough to know that you’ve got a practical side
that’s not going to get sidetracked by the fact that you think we genuflect
wrong.’
‘What’s this?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘We kneel on our right knee,’ Emban
shrugged. ‘These poor, benighted heathens kneel on the left.’
‘Shocking,’ Sparhawk murmured. ‘Do you think we should come here in force
and compel them to do it right?’
‘You see?’ Emban said to the Archimandrite. ‘That’s
exactly what I was talking about. You should fall to your knees and thank
God that you’re not saddled with Church Knights, Morsel. I think most of
them secretly worship Styric Gods.’
‘Only the Younger Gods, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said mildly. ‘We’ve had our
differences with the Elder Gods.’
‘He says it so casually,’ Morsel shuddered. ‘if you think we’ve exhausted
the conversational potential of genuflectory variation, Emban, why don’t
you get to the point?’
‘This is in strictest confidence, your Grace, but our mission here to
Tamuli’s not entirely what it seems. It was Queen Ehlana’s idea, of course.
She’s not the sort to go anywhere just because somebody tells her to – but
all of this elaborate fol-de-rol was just a subterfuge to hide our real
purpose, which was to put Sparhawk on the Daresian Continent. The world’s
coming apart at the seams, so we’ve decided to let him fix it.’
‘I thought that was God’s job.’
‘God’s busy just now, and He’s got complete confidence in Sparhawk. All
sorts of Gods feel that way about him, I understand.’ Morsel’s eyes
widened, and his beard bristled. ‘Relax, Morsel,’ Emban told him. ‘We of
the Church are not required to believe in other Gods. All we’have to do is
make a few allowances for their speculative existence.’
‘Oh, that’s different. If this is speculation, I suppose it’s all right.’
‘There’s one thing that isn’t speculation, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said.
‘You’ve got trouble here in Astel.’
‘You’ve noticed. Your Highness is very perceptive.’
‘You may not have been advised, since the Tamuls are trying to keep it on
a low key, but very similar things are afoot in many other Daresian
kingdoms, and we’re beginning to encounter the same sort of problem in
Eosia.’
‘I think the Tamuls sometimes keep secrets just for the fun of it,’ Morsel
grunted. ‘I have a friend who says the same thing about our Eosian Church,’
Sparhawk said cautiously. They had not yet fully explored the
Archimandrite’s political opinions. A wrong word or two here would not only
preclude any possibility of obtaining his help, but might even compromise
their mission. ‘Knowledge is power,’ Emban said rather sententiously, ‘and
only a fool shares power if he doesn’t have to. Let me be blunt, Morsel.
What’s your opinion of the Tamuls?’
‘I don’t like them.’ Morsel’s response was to the point. ‘They’re
heathens, they’re members of an alien race, and you can’t tell what they’re
thinking.’
‘Sparhawk’s heart sank. ‘I have to admit, though, that when they absorbed
Astel into their empire, it was the best thing that ever happened to us.
Whether we like them or not is beside the point. Their passion for order
and stability has averted war time and time again in my own lifetime. There
have been other empires in ages past, and their time of ascendancy was a
time of unmitigated horror and suffering. I think we’ll candidly have to
admit that the Tamuls are history’s finest imperialists. They don’t
interfere with local customs or religions. They don’t disrupt the social
structure, and they function through the established governments. Their
taxes, however much we complain about them, are really minimal. They build
good roads and encourage trade. Aside from that, they generally leave ‘us
alone. About all they really insist upon is that we don’t go to war with
each other. I can live with that – although some of my predecessors felt
dreadfully abused because the Tamuls wouldn’t let them convert their
neighbours by the sword.’ Sparhawk breathed a little easier. ‘But I’m
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