I’ll show you the difference.’
Sparhawk had been looking for Sir Berit to advise him of their
upcoming journey, and he had just rounded a corner in the
hallway leading to the chapel to find his young friend trapped
once more by the Empress Elysoun. Since Emperor Sarabian’s
entire family was inside the castle as a security measure, Berit’s
escape routes had been seriously curtailed, and Elysoun had
been taking advantage of the ‘ situation outrageously. The
Emperor’s Valesian wife was a brown-skinned, sunny girl whose
native costume left her unashamedly bare-breasted. No matter
how many times Sarabian had explained to Berit that customary
moral strictures did not apply to Valesians, the young Knight
remained steadfastly respectful – and chahte. Elysoun had taken
that as a challenge, and she had been pursuing the poor young
man relentlessly. Sparhawk was just on the verge of speaking
to his friend, but he smiled instead and stepped back round the
corner to listen. he was the interim preceptor of the Pandion
Order, after all, and it was his duty to look after the souls of his
men.
‘Do you always have to be an Elene?’ Elysoum was asking the
knight.
“I am an Elene, your highness.’
‘But you Elenes are so boring,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you be
Valesian for just one afternoon? It’s much more fun, and it
won’t take very long, you know – unless you want it to.’ She
paused. ‘Are you really a virgin?’ she asked curiously.
Berit turned bright red.
Elysoun laughed delightedly. ‘What an absurd idea’ she
exclaimed. ‘Aren’t you even a little curious about what you’ve
been missing? I’ll be happy to take that tiresome virginity off
your hands, Berit-Knight – and it won’t even hurt very much.’
Sparhawk took pity on the poor fellow and intervened at that
point. ‘Ah, there you are, Berit,’ he said, stepping round the
corner and speaking in Tamul for the Empress’s benefit. ‘i’ve
been looking all over for you. Something’s come up that needs
our attention.’ He bowed to the Empress. ‘Your Imperial highness,’
he murmured, ‘i’m afraid I’ll have to commandeer your
friend here for a while. Matters of state, you know.’
The look Elysoun gave him had dagger’s in it.
“I was sure your highness would understand,’ he said, bowing
again. ‘Come along, Berit. The matter’s serious, and we’re
late.’ he led his friend off down the opalescent corridor as
Empress Elisoum glared after them.
‘Thanks, ‘Sparhawk,’ Berit said with relief.
‘Why don’t you just stay away from her?’
“I can’t. She follows me ‘everywhere. She even trapped me in
the bath-house once – in the middle of the night. She said she
wanted to bathe with me,’
‘Berit,’ Sparhawk smiled, ‘as your preceptor and spiritual
guide, I’m supposed to applaud your devotion to the ideals of
our order. As your friend, though; I have to tell you that running
away from her only makes matters worse. We have to stay here
in Matherion, and if we stay long enough, she will get you.
She’s very single-minded about it.’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed that.’
“She’s really quite pretty, you know,’ Sparhawk suggested
tentatively. ‘What’s your difficulty with the notion of being
friendly?’
‘Sparhawk!’
The big Pandion sighed. “I was afraid you might look at it that
way. Look, Berit, Elysoun comes from a different culture with
different customs. She doesn’t see this sort of thing as sin. Sarabian’s
made it quite clear that he wants some of us to accommodate
her, and she’s chosen you as the lucky man. It’s a political
necessity, so you’re just going to have to set these delicate feelings
aside. Look upon it as your knightly duty, if it makes you
feel any better. I can even have Emban grant you an indulgence
if you think it’s necessary.’
Berit gasped.
‘You’re starting to embarrass us,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Elysoun’s
been making Sarabian’s life miserable about the whole thing.
He won’t step in and order you to do as she asks, no matter how
much she nags him, but he quite obviously expects me to speak
with you about it.’
“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Sparhawk.
‘Just go ahead and do it, Berit. Everybody expects you to. You
don’t have to enjoy it if you don’t want to, but do it. Do it as often
as you have to, but make her stop screaming at the Emperor. It’s
your duty, my friend, and after you and Elysoun have romped
around the bedroom a few time’s, she’ll start looking for new
playmates. ‘
‘But what if she doesn’t?’
“I wouldn’t worry too much. Patriarch Emban’s got a whole
saddle-bag full of indulgences if it should turn out that you really
need them. ‘
The failed uprising had given Emperor Sarabian the perfect
excuse to escape from his government. Feigning cowardice, he
had flatly declared that he felt safe only within the walls of
Ehlana’s castle, and then only if the moat remained full and the
drawbridge raised. his ministers, being accustomed to arranging
his every move, found that terribly inconvenient.
Sarabian had not been motivated entirely by a desire to
breathe the air of relative freedom, however. Interior Minister
Kolata had been revealed as a traitor during the coup-attempt,
but Sarabian and his Elene friends had decided that the time
was not yet right to publicly reveal his treachery. So long as
the Emperor remained inside Ehlana’s castle, Kolata’s presence
there as well was fully explained. He was in charge of the police,
after all, and the protection of the Emperor was his paramount
duty. The Interior Minister, closely supervised by Ehlana’s
cohorts, directed the police forces of the Empire from inside the
walls. His meetings with his underlings were always just a trifle
strained, since Stragen customarily sat beside him with one hand
idly resting on the hilt of a dagger.
It was early one morning when Ambassador Norkan, the
Tamul emissary to the court of King Androl and Queen Betuana
of Atan, was escorted into the gleaming imitation throne-room in
the castle. Norkan wore his usual golden mantle and a puzzled
expression. Though he tried to conceal the fact, he quite obviously
disapproved of the fact that his Emperor was dressed in
western-style doublet and hose of a rich plum color. ‘Have you
gone and stolen my Emperor too, Queen Ehlana?’ he asked with
a perfunctory bow. Norkan was a brilliant man, but he had an
unfortunate tendency to speak his mind quite openly.
‘What a thing to say, your Excellency,’ Ehlana protested mildly
in nearly perfect Tamul. Ehlana was technically the hostess here,
so she sat on her throne wearing her formal crimson robe and
a golden crown. She turned to her imperial ‘guest’ who sprawled
in a nearby chair slowly twitching a string across the opalescent
floor for the entertainment of Princess Danae’s cat. ‘Have I stolen
you, Sarabian?’ she asked him.
‘Oh, absolutely, Ehlana,’ he replied, speaking in Elenic. ‘i’m
utterly in thrall to you.’
‘Has someone opened a school for modern languages here on
the grounds while I’ve been gone, Oscagne?’ Norkan asked.
“I suppose you might say that,’ the Foreign minister replied.
‘His Majesty’s proficiency in Elenic predates Queen Ehlana’s
visit, however. Our revered Emperor’s been keeping secrets
from us.’
‘is he allowed to do that? I thought he was supposed to be
just a stuffed toy that we trotted out on ceremonial occasions.’
Even Oscagne choked a bit on that, but Sarabian burst into
laughter. ‘i’ve missed you, Norkan,’ he declared. ‘Have you had
the chance to get to know our excellent Norkan, Ehlana?’
“I sampled his wit in Atana, Sarabian,’ the queen smiled. ‘HiS
observations always seem so – ah – unexpected.’
‘That they are,’ Sarabian laughed, rising to his feet. He swore
briefly as the rapier at his side briefly caught behind the leg of
his chair. The Emperor had a great deal of difficulty with his
rapier. ‘Norkan once made one of those unexpected observations
about the size of my sister’s feet, and I had to send him
off to Atan to keep her from having him murdered.’ He cocked
one eyebrow at the ambassador. “I really should make you marry
her, Norkan. Then you could insult her in private. Public insults
require public responses, you know.’
‘i’m honored more than I can say, your Imperial Majesty,’
Norkan replied. ‘The prospect of becoming your brother-in-law
is quite likely to stop my heart entirely.’
‘You don’t like my sister,’ Sarabian accused.
“I didn’t say that, your Majesty, but I prefer to worship her
from afar – at least out of the range of her feet. That’s what
precipitated my unfortunate remark in the first place. I was
gouty that day, and she stepped on my toe. She’d be a nice
enough girl, I suppose, if she’d only watch where she’s putting
those cattle barges she wears for shoes.’
“It wouldn’t be one of those marriages made in heaven, Sarabian,’
Ehlana smiled. ‘i’ve met your sister, and I’m afraid his