Domes of Fire by David Eddings

into the Astel marshes in the south of the kingdom. He’d made secret

alliances with patriots in Edam, and there was a huge army lining the

southern fringe of the marshes. Serfs who lived in the region guided

Ayachin’s armies through the bogs and quicksand, but the Eosians tried to

just bull their way through, and most of them drowned, pulled under by all

that muck. The few who reached the far side were slaughtered by the

combined forces of Ayachin and his Edomish allies. He was a great national

hero for a time, of course, till the nobles who had been outraged because

he’d armed the serfs conspired against him, and he was eventually murdered.

‘

‘why do these stories always have to end that way?’ Talen complained. ‘Our

young friend here is a literary critic,’ Stragen said. ‘He wants his

stories to all have happy endings.’ The ancient history is all well and

good,’ Djukta growled, ‘but the point of all this is that Ayachin’s

returned – or so the serfs say.’

‘It’s a part of the folk-lore of Astel,’ Akros said. ‘Serfs

used to tell each other that someday a great crisis would arise, and that

Ayachin would rise from the grave to lead them again.’

Stragen sighed. ‘Can’t anyone come up with a new story?’

‘What’s that?’ Djukta asked him.

‘Nothing, really. There’s a similar story making the rounds in Eosia. Why

would this concern us if we decided to go into business around here?’

‘Part of that folk-lore Akros was telling’ you about is something that

makes everybody’s blood run cold. The serfs believe that when Ayachin

returns, he’s going to emancipate them. Now there’s a hot-head out there

stirring them up. We don’t know his real name, but the serfs call him

‘Sabre’. He’s going around telling them that he’s actually seen Ayachin.

The serfs are secretly gathering weapons – or making them. They sneak out

into the forests at night to listen to this ‘Sabre’ make speeches. You

should probably know that they’re out there, since it might be dangerous if

you happened upon them unexpectedly.’ Djukta scratched at his shaggy beard.

‘I don’t normally feel this way, but I wish the government would catch this

Sabre fellow and hang him or something. He’s got the serfs all worked up

about throwing off the oppressors, and he’s not too specific about which

oppressors he means. He could be talking about the Tamuls, but many of his

followers think he’s talking about the upper classes. Restless serfs are

dangerous serfs. Nobody knows how many of them there really are, and if

they begin to get wild ideas about equality and justice, God only knows

where it might end.’

Chapter 10

%’We’d go a long way toward understanding the situation if we could

pinpoint just exactly what he is after, Emban added. ‘Opportunity,’ Ulath

suggested. ‘if everything’s all settled and the wealth and power have all

been distrib- uted, there’s nothing left for the people coming up the

ladder. The only way they can get their share is to turn everything upside

down and shake it a few times.’

‘That is a brutal political theory, Sir Ulath,’ Oscagne said

disapprovingly. ‘It’s a brutal world, your Excellency,’ Ulath shrugged.

‘i’d have to disagree,’ Bevier stubbornly asserted. ‘Go right ahead, my

young friend,’ Ulath smiled. ‘I don’t mind all that much when people

disagree with me.’

‘There is such a thing as genuine political progress. The people’s lot is

much better now than it was five hundred years ago.’

‘Granted, but what’s it going to be like next year?’

Ulath leaned back in his saddle, his blue eyes speculative. ‘Ambitious

people need followers, and the best way to get people to follow you is to

promise them that you’re going to correct everything that’s wrong with the

world. The promises are all very stirring, but only babies expect leaders

to actually keep them.’

‘You’re a cynic, Ulath.’

‘I think that’s the word people use, yes.

The weather grew increasingly threatening as the morning progressed. A

thick bank of purplish cloud marched steadily in from the west, and there

were flickers of lightning along the horizon. ‘It’s going to rain, isn’t

it?’ Tynian asked Khalad. Khalad looked pointedly toward the cloud-bank.

‘That’s a fairly safe bet, Sir Knight,’ the young man replied. ‘How long

until we start to get wet?’

‘An hour or so – unless the wind picks up.’

‘What do you think, Sparhawk?’ Tynian asked. ‘Should we look for some kind

of shelter?’ There was a far-off rumble of thunder from the west. ‘I think

that answers that question,’ Sparhawk decided. ‘Men dressed in steel don’t

have any business being out in a thunderstorm.’

‘Good point,’ Tynian agreed. He looked around. ‘The next question is

where? I don’t see any woods around.’ we might have to set up the tents.’

That’s awfully tedious, Sparhawk.’

‘So’s being fried in your armour if you get struck by lightning.’ kring

came riding back toward the main column with a small, two-wheeled carriage

following him. The man in the cariage was blond, plump and soft-looking. He

wore clothing cut in a style which had gone out of fashion in the west

forty years ago. ‘This is the landowner Kotyk,’ the Domi said to Sparhawk.

‘He calls himself a baron. He wanted to meet you.’

‘I am overwhelmed to meet the stalwarts of the church, Sir Knights,’ the

plump man gushed. we are honoured, Baron Kotyk,’ Sparhawk replied,

inclining his head politely. ‘My manor house is nearby,’ Kotyk rushed on,

‘and I do’ foresee unpleasant weather on the horizon. Might I offer my poor

hospitality?’

‘As I’ve told you so many times in the past, Sparhawk,’ Bevier said

mildly, ‘you have but to put your trust in God. He will provide.’ Kotyk

looked puzzled. ‘A somewhat feeble attempt at humour, my Lord,’ Sparhawk

explained. ‘My companions and I were just discussing our need for shelter.

Your most generous offer solves a rather vexing problem for us.’ Sparhawk

was not familiar with local customs, but the Baron’s ornate speech hinted

at a somewhat stiff formality. ‘I note that you have ladies in your

company,’ Kotyk observed, looking toward the carriage in which Ehlana rode.

‘Their comfort must be our first concern. We can become better acquainted

once we are safely under my roof.’

‘We shall be guided by you, my Lord,’ Sparhawk

agreed. ‘I pray you, lead us whither you will, and I shall inform the

ladies of this fortuitous encounter.’ If Kotyk wanted formal, Sparhawk

would give him formal. He wheeled Faran and rode back along the column.

‘Who’s the fat fellow in the carriage, Sparhawk?’ Ehlana asked. ‘Speak not

disparagingly of our host, light of my life.’

‘Aren’t you feeli’ng well?’

‘The fat fellow has just offered us shelter from that thunderstorm

snapping at our heels. Treat him with gratitude if not respect.’

‘What a nice man.’

‘It might not be a bad idea for us to sort of keep your identity to

ourselves. We don’t know exactly what we’re walking into. Why don’t I just

introduce you as an aristocrat of some kind, and -‘

‘A Margravine, I think,’ she improvised. ‘Margravine Ehlana of Cardos.’

‘Why Cardos?’

‘It’s a nice district with mountains and a beautiful coastline. Absolutely

perfect climate and industrious, law-abiding people.’

‘You’re not trying to sell it to him, Ehlana.’ But I need to know the

pertinent details so that I can gush suitably.’ Sparhawk sighed. ‘All

right, my Lady, practise gushing then, and come up with suitable stories

for the others.’ He looked at Emban. ‘Are your morals flexible enough to

stand a bit of falsehood, your Grace?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘That depends on

what you want me to lie about, Sparhawk.’

‘It won’t exactly be a lie, your Grace,’ Sparhawk smiled. ‘if we demote my

wife, you’ll be the ranking member of our party. The presence of Ambassador

Oscagne here suggests a high-level visit of some sort. I’ll just tell Baron

Kotyk that you’re the Archprelate’s personal emissary to the Imperial

court, and that the Knights are your escort instead of the Queen’s.’ That

doesn’t stretch my conscience too far,’ Emban grinned. ‘Go ahead, Sparhawk.

You lie, and I’ll swear to it. Say whatever you have to. That storm is

coming this way very fast.’ Talen,’ Sparhawk said to the boy, who was

riding beside the carriage, ‘sort of move up and down the column and let

the knights know what we’re doing. A . misplaced ‘your Majesty” or two

could expose us all as frauds.’

‘

‘your husband shows some promise, Margravine Ehlana,’ Stragen noted. ‘Give

me some time to train him a bit, ‘and I’ll make an excellent swindler of

him. His instincts are good, but his technique’s a little shaky.’

‘Baron Kotyk’s manor house was a palatial residence in a park-like

setting, and there was a fair-sized village at the foot of the hill upon

which it stood. There were a number of large out-buildings standing to the