to cure Sephrenia out of love for her, not out of any affection for
the Delphae.’
‘But thou didst stand for us against thy kindred when all this
began, Goddess,’ Xanetia pointed out.
‘That also was not out of any great affection for your race,
Xanetia. My family was wrong, and I opposed them out of prin-ciple.
You wouldn’t understand that, though, would you? It had
to do with love, and you Delphae have outgrown that, haven’t
you?’
‘How little thou knowest us, Goddess,’ Xanetia said sadly.
‘As long as we’re all speaking so frankly, I’ve noticed a certain
bias against Styrics in some of your remarks, Anarae,’ Sparhawk
said pointedly.
“I have reasons, Anakha – many reasons.’
‘i’m sure you have, and I’m sure Sephrenia has too. But
whether we like each other or not is really beside the point. I
am going to straighten this all out. I’ve got work to do, and I
can’t do it in the middle of a cat-fight. I wi’ll make peace among
you – even if I have to use the Bhelliom to do it.’
‘Sparhawk.’ Danae’s face was shocked.
‘Nobody wants to tell me what really happened during the
Cyrgai wars, but maybe that’s just as well. I was curious at first,
but not any longer. What it boils down to, ladies, is that I don’t
care what happened. The way you’ve all been behaving sort of
says that nobody’s hands were really clean. I want this spiteful
wrangling to stop. You’re all behaving like children, and it’s
beginning to make me tired.’
CHAPTER 17
There were dark circles under Sephrenia’s eyes the next morning,
and the light had gone out of her face. Her white Styric
robe was partially covered by a sleeveless overmantle of deepest
black. Sparhawk had never seen her wear that kind of garment
before, and her choice – of both the garment and the color seemed
ominous. She joined them at the breakfast table reluctantly,
and only at Ehlana’s express command. She sat slightly
apart from the rest of them with her injury drawn about her like
a defensive wall. She would not look at Vanion, and refused
breakfast despite Ehlana’s urgings.
Vanion appeared no less injured. His face was drawn and
pale, quite nearly as pale as it had been when he had been
carrying the burden of the swords, and his eyes were filled with
pain.
Breakfast under those circumstances was strained, and they
all left the table with a certain relief. They proceeded directly to
the blue-draped sitting room and got down to busineSS.
‘The others aren’t really all that significant,’ Caalador told
them. ‘Rebal, Sabre and Baron Parok are decidedly second-rate.
All they’re really doing is exploiting existing hostilities. Scarpa’s
something quite’ different, though. Arjuna’s a troublesome sort
of place to begin with, and Scarpa’s using that to the fullest.
The others have to be fairly circumspect because the Elene kingdoms
of western Tamuli are so well populated. There are people
evreywhere, so the conspirators have to sneak around. Southeastern
Arjuna’s one vast jungle, though, so Scarpa’s got placeS
to hide, and places he can defend. He makes some small pretense
at nationalism in the way that the others do, but that
doesn’t appear to be his main agenda. The Arjuni are far more
shrewd than the Elene peasants and serfs of the west.’
‘Have you got any background on him?’ Ulath asked. ‘Where
he came from, what he did before he set up shop, that Sort of
thing?’
Caalador nodded. ‘That part wasn’t very difficult. Scarpa was
fairly well known in some circles before he joined the conspiracy.’
Caalador made a face. “I wish there were some other
word. “Conspiracy” sounds so melodramatic.’ He shrugged. ‘Anyway, Scarpa’s
a bastard.’
‘Calador.’ Bevier said sharply. ‘There are ladies present!’
“It wasn’t intended as an obscenity, Sir Bevier, merely as a
legal definition. Scarpa’s the result of a dalliance between a militantly
promiscuous Arjuni tavern-wench and a renegade Styric.
It was an odd sort of pairing-off, and it produced a very odd
sort of fellow. ‘
‘Don’t pursue this too far, Caalador,’ Stragen said ominously.
‘Grow up, Stragen. You’re not the only one with irregular
parentage. When you get right down to it, I’m not entirely sure
who my father was either. Bastardy’s no great inconvenience
for a man with brains and talent.’
‘Milord Stragen’s oversensitive about his origins,’ Baroness
Melidere explained lightly. ‘I’ve spoken with him time and again
about it, but he still has feelings of inadequacy. It might not be
a bad thing, though. He’s so generally stupendous otherwise
that a little bit of insecurity keeps him from being absolutely unbearable. ‘
Stragen rose and bowed flamboyantly.
‘Oh, sit down, Stragen,’ she said.
‘Where was I?’ Caalador said. ‘Oh, yes, now I recollect. This
yore Scarpa feller, he growed up in a shack-nasty sorta roadside
tavern down that in Ar-juna – an’ he done all the sorta thangs
which it iz oz bastards does in then formative years in a place
‘thout no real moral restraints on ’em.’
‘Please, Caalador,’ Stragen sighed.
‘Just entertaining the queen, old boy,’ Caalador shrugged.
‘She pines away without periodic doses of down-home
folksiness. ‘
‘What does “shack-nasty” mean, Caalador?’ Ehlana interrupted
him.
‘Why, gist whut it sez, yet Queenship. A shack’s a kinda
th’owed-together hovel built outten ole boards an’ scraps, an’
“nasty” means putty much whut it sez. I knowed a feller oz
went by that name when I wuz a pup. He lived in th’ messiest
place y’ ever did see, an’ he warn’t none too clean his ownself,
neither.
“I think I can survive for several hours now without any more
mangled language, Master Caalador,’ she smiled. “I want to
thank you for your concern, though.’
‘Always glad to be of service, your Majesty.’ He grinned.
‘Scarpa grew up in a situation that sort of skirted the edges of
crime. He was what you might call a gifted amateur. He never
really settled down into one given trade.’ He made a face. ‘Dabblers.
I absolutely detest dabblers. He pandered for his mother
just as every good boy should – and also for his numerous
half-sisters, who, if we’re to believe the common gossip, were
all whores from the cradle. He was a moderately competent
pick-pocket and cut-purse, and a fairly gifted swindler. Unlike
many of his mother’s one-time paramours, Scarpa’s Styric father
stayed around for a time, and he used to drop back to visit his
son from time to time, so Scarpa got a smattering of a Styric
education. Eventually, however, he made the kind of mistake
we expect amateurs to make. He tried to cut the purse of a
tavern patron who wasn’t quite as drunk as he appeared to be.
His intended victim grabbed him, and Scarpa demonstrated the
Arjuni side of his nature. He whipped out a small, very sharp
knife and spilled the fellow’s guts out on the floor of the tavern.
Some busy-body went to the police about it, and Scarpa left
home rather abruptly.’
‘Wise move,’ Talen murmured. ‘Didn’t he get any professional
training while he was growing up?’
‘No. He appears to have picked things up on his own.’
‘Precocious. ‘
Caalador nodded his agreement. ‘if he’d had the right
teachers, he probably could have become a master thief. After
he ran away, he seems to have kept moving for a couple of
years. He was only twelve or so when he killed that first man,
and when he was about fourteen, he turned up in a traveling
carnival. he billed himself as a magician – the usual sort of
carnival fakery – although he occasionally utilized a few Styric
spells to perform real magic. He grew a beard – which is
unusual among the Tamul races, since Tamul men don’t have
much facial hair. Neither do Styrics for that matter, now that I
think about it. Scarpa’s a half-breed, and the mixture of Southern
Tamul and Styric came out rather peculiarly. Neither his features
nor some of his traits are really characteristic of either race.’
Caalador reached inside his doublet and drew out a folded sheet
of paper. ‘here,’ he said, opening the paper, ‘judge for yourselves.’
The drawing was a bit crude – more a caricature than a portrait.
It was a depiction of a man with a strangely compelling
face. The eyes were deep-sunk under heavy brows. The cheekbones
were high and prominent, the nose aquiline, and the
mouth sensual. The beard appeared to be dense and black, and
it was meticulously trimmed and shaped.
‘He spends a lot of time on that beard,’ Kalten observed. “It
looks as if he shaves off stray whiskers hair by hair. ‘ He frowned
slightly. ‘He looks familiar, for some reason – something around
the eyes, I think.’
‘i’m surprised you can even recognize the fact that it’s supposed
to be a picture of a human being,’ Talen sniffed. ‘The
technique’s absolutely awful.’
‘The girl hasn’t had any training, Talen,’ Caalador defended