‘it makes me feel better. It might be nice to be on the winning
side for a change.’
‘it’s about time,’ Sparhawk growled. ‘i’m getting a little tired
of being chased out of every town we visit before I’ve even had
the time to unpack my sea-bag.’ He squinted at Valash. ‘As
long as the subject’s come up anyway, could we expect Scarpa’s
people out there in the brush to take us in if things turn sour
and we have to make a run for it?’
‘What could possibly go wrong?”
‘Have you ever taken a good look at an Atan, Valash? They’re
as tall as trees, and they’ve got shoulders like bulls. They do
unpleasant things to people, so I want a friendly place to come
down if I suddenly have to take flight. Are there any other safe
places out there in the woods?’
Valash’s expression grew wary as if he had suddenly realized
that he’d said too much already.
‘Ah – I think we know what we need to, From,’ Stragen interposed
smoothly. ‘There are safe places out there if we really
need to find them. I’m sure there are many things Master Valash
knows that he’s not supposed to talk about.’
Valash puffed himself up slightly, and his expression took on a
knowing, secretive cast. ‘You understand the situation perfectly
Vymer,’ he said. ‘it wouldn’t be proper for me to reveal things
Lord Scarpa’s told me in strictest confidence.’ He pointedly
picked up his papers again.
‘We won’t keep you from important matters, Master Valash,’
Stragen said, backing away. ‘We’ll nose around town some more
and let you know if we find out anything else.’
‘i’d appreciate’ that, Vymer,’ Valash replied, shuffling his
papers as his visitors departed.
‘What an ass,’ Talen muttered as the three of them carefully
descended the rickety staircase to the alley again.
‘Where did you learn so much about tapestry?’ Sparhawk
asked him.
‘I don’t know anything about tapestry.
‘You were talking as if you did.’
‘I talk about a lot of things I don’t know anything about. It
fills in the gaps when you’re trying to peddle something that’s
worthless. I could tell by the way Valash’s eyes glazed over
when I mentioned the word “tapestry” that he didn’t know any
more about it than I did. He was too busy trying to make us
think that he’s important to pay any real attention. I could get
rich from that one. I could sell him blue butter.’
Sparhawk gave him a puzzled look.
‘it’s a swindler’s term,’ Stragen explained. ‘The meaning’s a
little obscure.’
‘i’m sure it is.
‘Did you want me to explain it?’
‘Not particularly, no,’
‘is it a family custom? Or just a way to honor your father?’ Berit
asked Khalad as the two of them, wearing mail-shirts and grey
cloaks, lounged against the forward rail of the scruffy lake-freighter
plodding across the Sea of Arjun from Sepal to Tiara.
Khalad shrugged. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that the
men in our family all have heavy beards – except for Talen. If I
decided not to wear a beard, I’d have to shave twice a day. I
clip it close with scissors once a week and let it go at that. It
saves time. ‘
Berit rubbed at his altered cheek. ‘I wonder what Sparhawk
would do if I let his beard grow,’ he mused.
‘He might not do anything, but Queen Ehlana would probably
peel you like an apple. She likes his face just the way it is. She’s
even fond of that crooked nose.’
‘it looks as if we’ve got weather up ahead.’ Berit pointed
toward the west.
Khalad frowned. ‘Where did that come from? The sky was
clear just a minute ago. It’s funny I didn’t smell it coming.’
The cloud-bank hovering low on the western horizon was
purplish black, and it roiled ominously, swelling upward with
surprising speed. There were flickers of lightning deep inside
the cloud, and the sullen rumble of thunder came to them across
the dark, choppy waters of the lake.
‘I hope these sailors know what they’re doing,’ Berit said.
‘That has the earmarks of a very nasty squall.’
They continued to watch the inky cloud as it boiled higher
and higher, covering more and more of the western sky.
‘That’s not a natural storm, Berit,’ Khalad said tensely. ‘it’s
building too fast.’
Then there was a shocking crash of thunder, and the cloud
blanched and shuddered as the lightning seethed within it. Both
the young men saw the shadowy shape in the instant that the
bluish lightning thrust back the darkness to reveal what lay
hidden in the cloud. ‘Klael!’ Berit gasPed, staring at the
monstrous, winged shape half-concealed in the churning
storm-front. The next crash of thunder ripped the sky, and the shabby
vessel shuddered in the overwhelming sound. The inverted
wedge of Klael’s face seemed to ripple and change in the midst
of its veiling cloud, and the slitted eyes flamed in sudden rage.
The great, batlike wings began to claw at the approaching storm,
and the awful mouth opened to roar forth the thunder of klael’s
frustration. He howled in vast fury, and his enormous arms
stretched up into the murky air, reaching hungrily to clutch at
something that was not there.
And then the thing was gone, and the unnatural cloud tattered
and streamed harmlessly off to the southeast to become no more
than a dirty smudge on the horizon. The air, however, was filled
with a sulphurous reek.
‘You’d better pass the word to Aphrael,’ Khalad said grimly.
‘Klael’s loose again. He was looking for something, and he didn’
find it. God knows where he’ll look next.’
‘Komier’s arm is broken in three places,’ Sir Heldin rumbled
when he joined the mail-skirted Patriarch Bergsten, Ambassador
Fontan, and Archimandrite Morsel in Morsel’s book-littered
study in the east wing of the palace, ‘and Darellon’s still seeing
two of everything. Komier can travel if he has to, but I think
we’d better leave Darellon here until he recovers.’
‘How many knights are fit to ride?’ Bergsten asked.
‘Forty thousand at most, your Grace.’
‘We’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got. Emban knew
that we’d probably come this way, and he’s been sending messengers
by the platoon. Things are coming to a head in southeastern
Tamuli. Sparhawk’s wife has been taken hostage, and
our enemies are offering to trade her for Bhelliom. There’s a
rebel army in the Arjuni jungles preparing to march on
Matherion, and two more armies massing on the eastern frontier
of Cynesga. If those armies all join up, the game’s over. Emban
wants us to ride east across the steppes until we’re past the
Astel Marshes and then turn south and lay siege to the Cynesgan
capital. He needs a diversion of some kind to pull those armies
back from the border.’
Sir Heldin pulled out his map. ‘it’s workable,’ he said after a
moment’s study, ‘but we’re going to be a little light for that kind
of job.’
‘We’ll get by. Vanion’s in the field, but he’s badly outnumbered
along that Cynesgan frontier. If we don’t create
enough of a disturbance to relieve some of the pressure on him,
he’ll be swarmed under.’
Heldin looked speculatively at the huge Thalesian patriarch.
‘You’re not going to like this, your Grace,’ he said, ‘but there’s
not much choice in the matter.’
‘Go ahead,’ Bergsten told him.
‘You’re going to have to lay your cassock aside and take command.
Abriel’s been killed, Darellon’s incapacitated, and if Komier
gets into a fight, the weight of his axe will cripple him.’
‘You’re still here, Heldin. You can take charge.’
Heldin shook his head. ‘i’m not a Preceptor, your Grace, and
everybody in the army knows it. I’m also a Pandion, and the
other orders have strong feelinSs about us. We haven’t made
very many friends in the past couple of centuries. The other
orders won’t accept me as commander. You’re a Patriarch, and
you speak for Sarathi – and the Church. They’ll accept you with
nO argument.’
‘it’s out of the question.”
‘Then we’ll have to sit here until Dolmant sends us a new
commander. ‘
‘We can’t wait!’
‘My point exactly. Do I have your permission to tell the
knights that you’re taking command?’
‘I can’t, Heldin. You know that I’m forbidden to use magic.’
‘We can work our way around that, your Grace. There are
plenty of accomplished magicians in the ranks. Just tell us what
you want done, and we’ll see to it.’
‘i’ve taken an oath.’
‘You took another one earlier, Lord Bergsten. You promised to
defend the Church. That oath takes precedence in this situation.’
The hugely bearded and black-robed Archimandrite Morsel
looked speculatively at the reluctant Thalesian. Then he spoke in
a neutral sort of way. ‘Would you like an independent opinion,
Bergsten?’
Bergsten scowled at him.
‘You’re going to get it anyway,’ the Astellian churchman said