“Spelling is the sort of thing with which no gentleman ought to concern himself, Sparhawk,’ Kalten replied loftily. He looked around carefully to be sure he wouldn’t be heard. ‘Where Is Wargun?’ he whispered.
“I haven’t any idea,’ Sparhawk whispered back. ‘Maybe they had to sober him up. Wargun’s sense of direction isn’t too good when he’s been drinking.’
‘We’d better come up with an alternative plan, Sparhawk.
The Hierocracy’s going back into session just as soon as cluvonus gets laid away.’
‘We’ve got enough votes to hold Annias off.’
‘It’s only going to take about two ballots to prove that to him, my friend. He’ll start getting rash at that point, and we’re badly outnumbered here.’ Kalten looked at the heavy wooden beams lining the stairway down into the crypt. ‘Maybe I should set fire to the Basilica,’
he said.
“Are you out of your mind.?’
“It would delay things, Sparhawk, and we need a delay very badly just about now.’
“I don’t think we have to go that far. Let’s keep those five Patriarchs under wraps for now. Talen, without those five votes, where do we stand?’
‘One hundred and fifteen voting, Sparhawk. That means sixty-nine to win.’
‘That makes him one vote short again – even if he can buy the neutrals. He’ll probably hold off on any kind of confrontation if he thinks he’s that close. Kalten, take Perraine and go back to the chapterhouse and get those five Patriarchs. Put them in bits and pieces of armour to disguise them and then form up fifty or so knights to bring them here. Take them into an antechamber. We’ll let Dolmant decide when he needs them.’
‘Right.‘Kalten grinned wickedly. ‘We’ve beaten Annias, though, haven’t we, Sparhawk?’
‘It looks that way, but let’s not start celebrating until there’s someone else sitting on that throne. Now get moving.’
There were speeches when the still crimson-robed Hierocracy resumed its deliberations. The speeches were for the most part eulogies delivered by Patriarchs too unimportant to have participated in the formal services in the nave. The Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach, brother of the Baron Alstrom in Lamorkand, was particularly tedious. The session broke up early and resumed again the following morning. The Patriarchs who were opposed to Annias had gathered the previous evening and had selected Ortzel to be their standard-bearer. Sparhawk still had grave reservations about Ortzel, but he kept them to himself.
Dolmant held the five Patriarchs who had so recently returned to his ranks in reserve. Disguised in mismatched armour, they sat with a platoon of Church Knights in a squadroom not far from the audience chamber.
After the Hierocracy had come to order, Patriarch Makova rose to his feet and placed the name of Primate Annias in nomination for the Archprelacy. His nominating speech went on for almost an hour, but the applause greeting it was not Particularly fulsome. Then Dolmant rose and nominated Ortzel. Dolmant’s speech was more to the point, but it was followed by more enthusiastic applause.
‘Do they vote now?’ Talen whispered to Sparhawk.
“I don’t know,’ Sparhawk admitted. “That’s up to Makova. He’s holding the chair at the moment.’
‘I’d really like to see a vote, Sparhawk,’ Talen said urgently.
‘Aren’t you sure of your numbers?’ Sparhawk said it with a certain apprehension.
‘Of course I am, but numbers are only numbers. A lot of things can happen when you get ‘people involved in something. Take that, for example.’ Talen pointed at a page hurriedly carrying a note from the nine uncommitted Patriarchs to Dolmant. ‘What are they up to now?’
“They probably want to know why Dolmant suddenly stopped offering them money,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Their votes are worthless at this point, although they probably don’t fully understand that as yet.’
‘What do you think they’ll do now?’
‘Who knows?’ Sparhawk shrugged, ‘and who cares?’
Makova, standing at the lectern, glanced over a sheaf of notes. Then he looked up and cleared his throat. ‘Before we move on to our initial vote, my brothers,’ he began, “a matter of great urgency has just come to my attention. As some of you may be aware, the Zemochs are massing on the eastern border of Lamorkand with obviously warlike intent. I believe that we may expect with some certainty that Otha will invade the west – possibly within the next few days. It is, therefore, vital that the deliberations of this body be concluded with all possible haste. Our new Archprelate will be faced almost immediately upon his elevation with the direst crisis to face our Church and her faithful sons in the past five centuries.’
‘What’s he doing?’ Sir Bevier whispered to Sparhawk.
‘Everybody in Chyrellos knows that Otha’s already in eastern Lamorkand.’
‘He’s stalling,’ Sparhawk said, frowning, ‘but he doesn’t have any reason to stall.’
“What’s Annias up to?’ Tynian asked, glaring across the audience chamber at the Primate of Cimmura, who sat smiling smugly.
“He’s waiting for something to happen,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘What?’
“I don’t have any idea, but Makova’s going to keep talking until it does.’
Then Berit slipped into the audience chamber, his face pale and his eyes wild. He half-stumbled up the stairs and pushed his way along the bench to where Sparhawk sat.
‘Sir Sparhawk!’ he burst out.
‘Keep your voice down, Berit!’ Sparhawk hissed. ‘Sit down and pull yourself together!”
Berit sat and drew in a deep breath.
‘All right,’ Sparhawk said. “Speak quietly and tell us what’s happening.’
‘There are two armies approaching Chyrellos, My Lord,’
the novice said tersely.
‘Two?’ Ulath said in some surprise. Then he spread his hands. ‘Maybe Wargun split his forces for some reason.’
‘It’s not King Wargun’s army, Sir Ulath,’ Berit said. ‘As soon as we saw them coming, some Church Knights rode out to find out just who was approaching the city. The ones coming down from the north seem to be Lamorks.’
‘Lamorks?’ Tynian asked, puzzled. ‘What are they doing here? They should be on the border facing Otha.’
“I don’t think these particular Lamorks are interested in Otha, My Lord,’ Berit told him. ‘Some of the knights who rode out were Pandions, and they identified the leaders of the Lamork army as Adus and Krager. ‘
.What?’ Kalten exclaimed.
‘Keep it quiet, Kalten!’ Sparhawk grated. “And the other army, Berit?’ he asked, although he already knew the answer.
‘Mostly Rendors, My Lord, but there are a fair number of Cammorians as well.’
‘And their leader?’
‘Martel, My Lord.’
*Chapter 10
Patriarch Makova’s voice droned on and on as morning sunlight streamed into the audience chamber through the foot-thick, triangular panes of leaded crystal in a large round window high up in the waul behind the shrouded throne of the Archprelate. Dust motes hovered golden in those morning streams of light, tracing the elongated outline of each perfect triangle in the ‘still, unmoving air.
He spoke at great length about the horrors of the Zemoch war some five centuries ago and then went into a detailed analysis of the failures of Church policy during that period of turmoil.
Sparhawk scribbled a brief note to Dolmant, Emban and the Preceptors to advise them of the armies approaching the Holy City.
‘Will the church soldiers defend Chyrellos?’ Bevier whispered.
‘I think the best we can hope for is some token resistance,’
Sparhawk replied.
‘What’s keeping Wargun?’ Kalten demanded of ULath.
‘I can’t even begin to guess.’
‘Might this not be a good time to make our apologies and leave quietly?’ Tynian suggested. ‘Makova’s not really telling us anything we don’t already know.’
‘Let’s see what Dolmant says first,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I don’t want to give Annias any clues about what we might do at this point. We know why he was stalling now, but let’s see what he does next. It’s going to take Martel a while to deploy his forces anyway, so we’ve got time yet.’
‘Not very much,’ TTynian muttered.
‘The usual course of action in such circumstances is to demolish the bridges,’ Bevier advised. that would delay the approaching armies.’
Sparhawk shook his head. ‘There are ten different bridges across those two rivers, Bevier, and we only have four hundred knights. I don’t think we dare risk those men just for the sake of a few hours’ delay.’
‘Not to mention the fact that the Lamorks coming from the north won’t have any bridges to cross at all,’ Tynian added.
The door to the ornate audience chamber opened, and an excited monk hurried to the lectern, his sandals slapping on the polished marble floor and the breath of his passing setting the illuminated dust-motes hanging in the sunny triangles to swirling and dancing. The monk bowed deeply and handed Makova a folded sheet of paper.
Makova quickly read the message, and a thin smile of triumph crossed his pockmarked face. ‘I have just received some important information, my brothers,’ he announced. “two sizeable bodies of pilgrims are approaching Chyrellos. While I know that many of us are otherworldly and abstracted from current events, it’s no secret that certain tensions exist in Eosia at this time. Mightn’t it be wise of us to adjourn so that we may use such resources available to us to gather more information about these men so that we might better assess the situation?’ He looked around. ‘Without objection, it is so ordered. The Hierocracy stands in recess until tomorrow morning.’