‘And that’s more or less what happened, Sarathi,’
Sparhawk concluded. ‘It’s going to take me a while to get it all sorted out in my mind – the rest of my life, more than likely – and even then there are still going to be a lot of things I won’t understand.’
Dolmant leaned thoughtfully back in his chair. “I think that Bhelliom – and the rings – should be in Church custody,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, Sarathi,’ Sparhawk told him, “but that’s impossible. ‘
“You said what?’
“We don’t have the Bhelliom any more.’
“What did you do with it?’
‘We threw it into the sea, Sarathi,’ Bevier replied.
Dolmant stared at him in dismay.
Patriarch Ortzel came to his feet with a look of outrage on his face. ‘Without the permission of the Church?’
he almost screamed. ‘You did not even seek counsel from God?’
“We were acting on the instructions of another God, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk told him. “A Goddess, actually, he corrected.
“Heresy.” Ortzel gasped.
“I don’t really think so, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk disagreed.
“Aphrael was the one who brought Bhelliom to me. She carried it up out of the chasm in Ghwerig’s cave.
After I’d done what we needed to do with it, it was only proper for me to return it to her. She didn’t want it, though. She told me to throw it into the sea, so I did.
We are instructed to be courteous, after all.’
“That does not apply in a situation such as this!’ Ortzel stormed. ‘The Bhelliom’s too important to be treated as some mere trinket~ Go back and find it at once and hand it over to the Church!’
“I think he’s right, Sparhawk,’ Dolmant said gravely.
‘You’re going to have to go and retrieve it.’
Sparhawk shrugged. “As you wish, Sarathi,’ he said.
‘We’ll start just as soon as you tell us which ocean to look in.’
“Surely you -‘ Dolmant looked at them helplessly.
“We have absolutely no idea, Sarathi,’ Ulath assured him. ‘Aphrael took us to a cliff somewhere on some coast, and we threw Bhelliom into the sea. It could have been any coast and any ocean. It may not even be on this world, for all I know. Do they have oceans on the moon? Bhelliom’s gone for good, I’m afraid.’
The Churchmen stared at him in open dismay.
“I don’t think your Elene God really wants Bhelliom, anyway, Dolmant,’ Sephrenia told the Archprelate. ‘I think your God – like all the others – is very relieved to know that it’s lost for good. I think it frightens all of them.
I know that it frightened Aphrael.’ She paused. ‘Have you noticed how long and dreary this winter’s been?’ she asked then. ‘And how low your spirits are?’
‘It’s been a troubled time, Sephrenia,’ Dolmant reminded her.
‘Granted, but I didn’t notice you dancing for joy when you heard that Azash and Otha are gone. Not even that could lift your spirits. Styrics believe that winter’s a state of mind in the Gods. Something happened at Zemoch that’s never happened before. We found out once and for all that the Gods can die too. I seriously doubt that any of us will feel spring in our souls until our Gods are able to come to grips with that. They’re distracted and frightened now and not really very interested in us – or our problems.
They’ve left us to fend for ourselves for a while, I’m afraid.
Our magic doesn’t even seem to work any more for some reason. We’re all alone now, Dolmant, and we’ll have to endure this interminable winter until the Gods return.’
Dolmant leaned back in his chair again. “You trouble me, little mother,’ he said. He passed one hand wearily across his eyes. ‘I’ll be honest with you, though. I’ve felt this wintery despair myself for the last month and a half. I awoke in the middle of the night once weeping uncontrollably. I haven’t smiled since, or felt any lightness of spirit. I thought it was only me, but perhaps not.’ He paused. “And that brings us face to face with our duty as representatives of the Church. We absolutely must find something to distract the minds of the faithful from this universal despair – something to give them purpose, if not joy. What could possibly do that?’
“The conversion of the Zemochs, Sarathi, ‘ Bevier replied simply. (They’ve followed an evil God for eons. Now they’re Godless. What better task for the Church?’
“Bevier,’ Emban said with a pained look. ‘Are you by any chance striving for sainthood?’ He looked at Dolmant. ‘It’s really a very good idea, though, Sarathi. It would keep the faithful busy. There’s no question about that.’
“You’d better stop Wargun then, Your Grace,’ Ulath advised. “He’s poised in Kadum. As soon as the ground gets dry enough to hold a horse, he’s going to march into Zemoch and kill anything that moves.’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Emban promised, ‘even if I have to ride to Kadum myself and arm-wrestle him into submission. ‘
‘Azash is – was – a Styric god,’ Dolmant said, ‘and Elene priests have never had much success trying to convert Styrics. Sephrenia, could you possibly help us?
I’ll even find some way to give you authority and official status.’
‘No, Dolmant,’ she said firmly.
“Why is everybody saying no to me today?’ he asked plaintively. “What’s the problem, little mother?’
“I won’t assist you in converting Styrics to a heathen religion, Dolmant.’
‘Heathen.?’ Ortzel choked.
‘It’s a word that’s used to describe someone who isn’t of the true faith, Your Grace.’
‘But the Elene faith is the true faith.’
“Not to me, it isn’t. I find your religion repugnant.
It’s cruel, rigid, unforgiving and smugly self-righteous.
It’s totally without humanity, and I reject it. I’ll have no part of this ecumenicism of yours, Dolmant. If I should aid you in converting the Zemochs, you’ll turn next to western Styricum, and that is where you and I will fight.’ She smiled then, a gentle, surprising smile that shone through the pervading gloom. ‘As soon as she’s feeling better, I think I’ll have a little talk with Aphrael. She may just take an interest in the Zemochs herself.’ The smile she directed at Dolmant at that point was almost radiant. “That would put us on opposite sides of the fence, wouldn’t it, Sarathi?’ she suggested. “I wish you all the best, though, old dear, but as they say, may the better man – or woman – win.’
The weather altered only slightly as they rode westward.
The rain had ceased for the most part, but the sky remained cloudy, and the blustery wind still had the chill of winter in it. Their destination was Demos-. They were taking Kurik home. Sparhawk was not really looking forward to telling Aslade that he had finally managed to get her husband killed. The gloom which had fallen over the earth following the death of Azash was heightened by the funereal nature of their journey. The armourers at the Pandion chapterhouse in Chyrellos had hammered the dents out of the armour of Sparhawk and his friends, and had even buffed off most of the rust. They rode now with a somewhat ornate black carriage that bore Kurik’s body.
They made camp in a grove not far back from the road some five leagues from Demos, and Sparhawk and the other knights saw to their armour. They had decided by unspoken agreement that they would wear their formal garb the next day. When he was satisfied that his equipment was ready for tomorrow, Sparhawk started across the camp towards the black carriage which stood some distance from the fire. Talen rose from his place to join him. ‘Sparhawk,’ he said as they walked.
“Yes?’
‘You’re not really serious about this notion are you?’
‘Which notion was that?’
‘Putting me in training to become a Pandion.’
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I made some promises to your father. ‘
‘I’ll run away.’
‘Then I’ll catch you – or send Bent to do it.’
“That’s not fair.’
‘You didn’t really expect life to throw honest dice did you?’
‘Sparhawk, I don’t want to go to knight school.’
‘We don’t always get what we want, Talen. This is something your father wanted, and I’m not going to disappoint him.’
‘What about me? What about what I want?’
“You’re young. You’ll adjust to’it. After a while, you might even find that you like it.’
‘Where are we going right now?’ Talen’s tone was sulky.
‘I’m going to visit your father. ‘
‘Oh. I’ll go back to the fire then. I’d rather remember him the way he was.’
The carriage creaked as Sparhawk climbed up into it and sat down beside his squire’s silent body. He did not say anything for quite some time. His grief had run itself out now and had been replaced with only a profound regret. ‘We’ve come a long way together, haven’t we, my old friend?’ he said finally. “Now you’re going home to rest, and I have to go on alone.’ He smiled faintly in the darkness. ‘That was really very inconsiderate of you, Kurik. I was looking forward to growing old with you – older that is.’