do it anyway – for outstanding service to the Empire, if nothing
else.’
‘What a splendid idea, Sarabian!’ Ehlana exclaimed.
‘I can’t really take much credit for the notion of the titles, I’m
afraid,’ he admitted a bit ruefully. ‘Actually, they were your
daughter’s idea. Her Royal Highness is a very strong-minded
little girl.’
Sparhawk glanced briefly at his daughter and then at Flute
They wore identical expressions of smug self-satisfaction. Divine
Aphrael clearly would not let anything stand in the way of her
match-making. Sparhawk smiled briefly and then cleared his
throat. ‘Ah – your Majesty,’ he said to the Emperor, ‘it’s growing
rather late, and we’re all tired. I’d suggest that we continue thiS
tomorrow.’
‘Of course, Prince Sparhawk,’ Sarabian agreed, rising to his
feet.
‘A word with you, Sparhawk?’ Patriarch Emban said as the
others started to file out.
‘Of course.’ They waited until they were alone in the room.
‘What are we going to do about Vanion and Sephrenia?
Emban asked.
‘I don’t exactly follow you, your Grace.
‘This so-called marriage is going to put Dolmant in a very
difficult position, you know.’
‘It’s not a “so-called marriage”, Emban,’ Sparhawk said
firmly, cutting across the formalities.
‘You know what I mean. The conservatives in the Hierocracy
will probably try to use it to weaken Sarathi’s position.’
‘Why tell them, then? It’s none of their business. A lot of
things that our theology can’t explain have happened here in
Tamuli, your Grace. The Empire’s outside the jurisdiction of our
Church, so why tell the Hierocracy anything about them?’
‘I can’t just lie to them, Sparhawk.’
‘I didn’t suggest that. Just don’t talk about it.’
‘I have to report to Dolmant.’
‘That’s all right. He’s flexible.’ Sparhawk considered it. ‘That’s
probably your best course anyway. We’ll take Dolmant off to
one side and tell him about everything that’s happened here.
We’ll let him decide how much to tell the Hierocracy.’
‘You’re putting an awful burden on him, Sparhawk.’
Sparhawk shrugged. ‘That’s what he gets paid for, isn’t it?
Now if you’ll excuse me, your Grace, there’s a family reunion
going on that I should probably attend.’
There was a melancholy sense of endings for the next several
weeks. They were all fully aware of the fact that once the weather
broke, most of them would be leaving Matherion. The likelihood
that they would ever gather again was very slight. They savored
their moments together, and there were frequent private little
interludes when two or perhaps three of them would gather in
out-of-the way places, ostensibly to talk at great length about
inconsequential matters, but in fact to cement faces, the sounds
of voices, and very personal connections forever in their
memories.
Sparhawk entered the sitting-room one blustery morning to
find Sarabian and Oscagne with their heads together over a
bound book of some kind. There was a certain outrage in their
expressions. ‘Trouble?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘Politics,’ Sarabian said sourly. ‘That’s always trouble.’
‘The Contemporary History Department at the University has
just published their version of recent events, Prince Sparhawk,’
Oscagne explained. ‘There’s very little truth in it – particularly
in light of the fact that Pondia Subat, our esteemed Prime Minister,
turns out to be a hero.’
‘I should have deleted Subat as soon as I found out about his
activities,’ Sarabian said moodily. ‘Who would be the best one
to answer this tripe, Oscagne?’
‘My brother, your Majesty,’ the Foreign Minister replied
promptly. ‘He is a member of the faculty, and he has a certain
reputation. Unfortunately, he’s in Cynestra just now.’
‘Send for him, Oscagne. Get him back here before Contemporary
History contaminates the thinking of a whole generation.’
‘Mans will want to come too, your Majesty.’
‘Fine. Your brother’s too clever by half. Let’s keep Atana Mans
nice and close to him. She might be able to teach him humility.’
‘What are we going to do with the Cyrgai, your Majesty?’
Sparhawk asked. ‘Sephrenia says that the curse that confined
them was lifted when Cyrgon died, and even though it’s not
actually their fault, there really isn’t any place for them in the
modern world.’
‘i’ve been brooding about that myself,’ the Emperor admitted.
‘I think we’ll want to keep them away from normal human
beings. There’s an island about five hundred leagues east of
Tega. It’s fairly fertile and it has a more or less acceptable climate.
Since the Cyrgai are so fond of isolation, it should turn the trick.
How long do you think it might take them to invent boats?’
‘Several thousand years, your Majesty. The Cyrgai aren’t very
creative. ‘
Sarabian grinned at him. ‘i’d say that’s the perfect place, then.’
Sparhawk grinned back. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he agreed.
Spring came to eastern Tamuli in a rush that year. A sudden
warm, wet wind blew in off the Tamul sea, cutting the snow off
the sides of nearby mountains in a single night. The streams ran
bank-full, of course, so it was still too early for travel. Sparhawk’s
impatience grew with each lingering day. It was not so
much that he had anything pressing to attend to, but more that
this prolonged farewell was extremely painful.
There was one fairly extended argument. Ehlana insisted at
first that they should all journey to Atan to celebrate the wedding
of Mirtai and Kring.
‘You’re being ignorant again, Ehlana,’ Mirtai told her with
characteristic bluntness. ‘You’ve seen weddings before, and
you’ve got a kingdom to run. Go back to Cimmura where you
belong.’
‘Don’t you want me to be present?’ Ehlana’s eyes filled with
tears.
Mirtai embraced her. ‘You will be, Ehlana,’ she said. ‘You’re
in my heart forever now. Go back to Cimmura. I’ll come by after
Kring and I get settled in Pela – or wherever we decide to live.’
Vanion and Sephrenia decided to accompany Queen
Betuana’s party as far as Atana and then to proceed on to
Sarsos. ‘It’s probably the best place for us, dear one,’ Sephrenia
told Sparhawk. ‘I have a certain status there, and I can shout
down the fanatics who’ll try to object to the fact that Vanion
and I are married now.’
‘Well put,’ Sparhawk said. Then he sighed. ‘i’m going to miss
you, little mother,’ he told her. ‘You and Vanion won’t ever be
able to come back to Eosia, you know.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Sparhawk,’ she laughed. ‘i’ve always gone
anyplace I wanted to go, and I always will. There are ways I
can disguise Vanion’s face -‘ and mine – so we’ll stop by from
time to time. I want to keep an eye on your daughter, if nothing
else.’ Then she kissed him. ‘Run along now, dear one I have
to go talk with Sarabian about Betuana.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s been muttering some nonsense about abdicating so that
she can marry Engessa. The Atans are subject to the imperial
crown, so I have to persuade Sarabian to keep her from doing
something foolish. Engessa will make a very good co-ruler, and
Sarabian needs stability in Atan.’
As the spring run-off began to recede and the soggy fields
around the capital began to dry out, Sparhawk went down to
the harbor looking for Captain Sorgi. There were less battered
and more luxurious ships swinging at anchor in the crowded
harbor, but Sparhawk trusted Sorgi, and to sail home with him
would provide a comforting sense of continuity to the conclusion
of this whole business. He found the curly-haired sea-captain
in a neat, well-lit wharfside tavern that was quite obviously run
by an Elene proprietor.
‘There’ll be thirteen of us, Captain,’ Sparhawk said, ‘and
seven horses.’
‘We’ll be a bit crowded, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi replied, squinting
at the ceiling, ‘but I think we can manage. Are you going to be
covering the cost of the passage yourself?’
Sparhawk grinned. ‘The Emperor has graciously offered to
defray the expense,’ he said. ‘He’s a friend, so please don’t
bankrupt him.’
Sorgi grinned back. ‘I wouldn’t think of it, Master Cluff.’ He
leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s been an interesting time, and the
Tamul Empire’s an interesting place, but it’ll be good to get back
home again.’
‘Yes,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Sometimes it seems that I’ve spent
my whole life trying to get back home.’
‘i’ll reckon up the cost of the voyage and have my bo’sun
bring it up to the imperial compound to you. I almost lost him
down in Beresa, you know.’
‘Your bo’sun?’
Sorgi nodded. ‘A couple of rascals waylaid him in an alleyway.
He barely got out alive.’
‘imagine that,’ Sparhawk said blandly. Evidently Valash had
tried to cut some corners on the hiring of assassins as well as
on everything else.
‘When exactly did you want to sail, Master Cluff?’
‘We haven’t quite decided yet – sometime in the next week
or so. I’ll let you know. Some of our friends are leaving to go
overland to Atan. It might be best if we sailed on the same
day.’
‘Good idea,’ Sorgi approved. ‘It’s always best not to drag out