The Ruby Knight Part 8

"My son was obviously in the wrong," he admitted, continuing his story, "and I would not have pursued the matter, grieved though I was. It was what happened after my son's death that has set eternal enmity between Gerich and myself. Not content with merely killing my son, the Count and his sister's savage brood mutilated his body and contemptuously deposited it at my castle gate. I was outraged, but the Cammorian Knight, whom I still trusted, advised guile. He pled matters of pressing urgency in Cammoria, but promised me the aid of two of his trusted retainers. It was but last week that the two arrived at my door to tell me that the time for my revenge had come. They led my soldiers to the house of the Count's sister, and there they slaughtered the Count's seven nephews. I have since discovered that these two underlings inflamed my soldiers, and they took certain liberties with the person of Gerich's sister."

"That's a delicate way to put it," Kalten whispered to Sparhawk.

"Be still," Sparhawk whispered back.

"The lady was dispatched - naked, I'm afraid - to her brother's castle. Reconciliation is now quite impossible Gerich has many allies, as do I, and western Lamorkand now hovers on the brink of general war."

"A melancholy tale, My Lord," Sparhawk said sadly.

The impending war is my concern. What is important now is to remove my brother from this house and to convey him safely to Chyrellos. Should he also fall during Gerich's attack, the church will have no choice but to send in her knights. The murder of a Patriarch - particularly one who is a strong candidate for elevation to the Archprelacy would be a crime she could not ignore. Thus it is that I implore you to safeguard him on his way to the Holy City."

"One question, My Lord," Sparhawk said. "The activities of this Cammorian Knight have a familiar ring to them. Can you describe him and his underlings to us?"

"The knight himself is a tall man with an arrogant bearing. One of his companions is a huge brute, scarcely human: The other is a rabbity fellow with an excessive fondness for strong drink."

"Sounds a bit like some old friends, doesn't it?" Kalten said to Sparhawk. "Was there anything unusual about this knight?"

"His hair was absolutely white," Alstrom replied, "and he was not that old."

"Martel certainly moves around, doesn't he?" Kalten observed.

"You know this man, Sir Kalten?" the baron asked.

"The white-haired man is named Martel," Sparhawk explained. "His two hirelings are Adus and Krager. Martel's a renegade Pandion Knight who hires out his services in various parts of the world. Most recently, he's been working for the Primate of Cimmura."

"But what would be the Primate's purpose in fomenting discord between Gerich and me?"

"You've already touched on that, My Lord," Sparhawk replied. The Preceptors of the four militant orders are firmly opposed to the notion of Annias sitting on the Archprelate's throne. They will be present - and voting during the election in the Basilica of Chyrellos, and their opinion carries great weight with the Hierocracy. Moreover, the Knights of the Church would respond immediately to the first hint of any irregularities in the election. If Annias is to succeed, he must get the Church Knights out of Chyrellos before the election. We were recently able to thwart a plot that Martel was hatching in Rendor that would have pulled the Knights out of the Holy City. It's my guess that this unhappy affair you told us about is yet another. Martel, acting on orders from Annias, is roaming the world building bonfires in the hope that sooner or later the Knights of the Church will be forced to move out of Chyrellos to extinguish them."

"Is Annias truly so depraved?" Ortzel asked.

"Your Grace, Annias will do anything to ascend that throne. I'm positive that he'd order the ma.s.sacre of half of Eosia to get what he wants."

"How is it possible for a Churchman to stoop so low?"

"Ambition, Your Grace," Bevier said sadly. "Once it gets its claws into a man's heart, the man becomes blind to all else."

"This is all the more reason to get my brother safely to Chyrellos," Alstrom said gravely. "He is much respected by the other members of the Hierocracy, and his voice will carry great weight in their deliberations."

"I must advise you and your brother, My Lord Alstrom, that there is a certain risk involved in your plan," Sparhawk warned them. "We are being pursued. There are those bent on thwarting us in our quest. Since your brother's safety is your first concern, I should tell you that I cannot guarantee it. The ones who are pursuing us are determined and very dangerous." He spoke obliquely, since neither Alstrom or Ortzel would give him much credence if he told them the bald truth about the nature of the Seeker.

"I'm afraid I have no real choice in the matter, Sir Sparhawk. With this antic.i.p.ated siege hanging over my head, I have to get my brother out of the castle, no matter what the risk."

"As long as you understand, My Lord," Sparhawk sighed. "Our mission is of the gravest urgency, but this matter overshadows even that."

"Sparhawk!" Sephrenia gasped.

"We have no choice, little mother," he told her. "We absolutely must get His Grace safely out of Lamorkand and to Chyrellos. The Baron was right. If anything happens to his brother, the Church Knights will ride out of Chyrellos to retaliate. Nothing could prevent it. We'll have to take His Grace to the Holy City and then try to make up for lost time."

"What precisely is the object of your search, Sir Sparhawk?" the Patriarch of Kadach asked.

"As Sir Ulath explained, we are forced to resort to magic to restore the Queen of Elenia to health, and there's only one thing in the world with that much power. We're on our way to the great battlefield at Lake Randera to seek out the jewel which once surmounted the royal crown of Thalesia."

"Bh.e.l.liom?" Ortzel was shocked. "Surely you would not bring that accursed thing to light again?"

"We have no choice, Your Grace. Only Bh.e.l.liom can restore my queen."

"But Bh.e.l.liom is tainted. All the wickedness of the Troll-G.o.ds infects it."

"The Troll-G.o.ds aren't all that bad, Your Grace," Ulath said. "They're capricious, I'll grant you, but they're not truly evil."

"The Elene G.o.d forbids consorting with them."

"The Elene G.o.d is wise, Your Grace," Sephrenia told him. "He has also forbidden contact with the G.o.ds of Styric.u.m. He made an exception to his prohibition, however, when the time came to form the militant orders. The Younger G.o.ds of Styric.u.m agreed to a.s.sist Him in His design. One wonders if He might not also be able to enlist the aid of the Troll-G.o.ds. He is, I understand, most persuasive."

"Blasphemy." Ortzel gasped.

"No, Your Grace, not really. I am Styric and therefore not subject to Elene theology."

"Hadn't we better get going?" Ulath suggested. "It's a long ride to Chyrellos, and we need to get His Grace out of this castle before the fighting starts."

"Well put, my laconic friend," Tynian approved.

"I shall make ready at once," Ortzel said, going to the door. "We will be able to depart within the hour." And he went out.

"How long do you think it's likely to be before the counts forces reach here, My Lord?" Tynian asked the baron.

"no more than a day, Sir Tynian. I have friends who are impeding his march northward from his keep, but he has a sizeable army, and I'm certain he will soon break his way through."

"Talen," Sparhawk said sharply, "put it back."

The boy made a wry face and laid a small dagger with a jewelled hilt back on the table from which he had taken it.

"I didn't think you were watching," he said.

"Don't ever make that mistake," Sparhawk said "I always watch you."

The baron looked puzzled.

"The boy has not yet learned to grasp some of the finer points of property owners.h.i.+p, My Lord," Kalten said lightly. "We've been trying to teach him, but he's a slow learner."

Talen sighed and took up his sketch pad and pencil. Then he sat at a table on the far side of the room and began to draw. He was, Sparhawk remembered, very talented.

"I am most grateful to you all, gentlemen," the baron was saying. "The safety of my brother has been my only concern. Now I shall be able to concentrate on the business at hand." He looked at Sparhawk. "Do you think you might possibly encounter this Martel person during the course of your quest?"

"I most certainly hope so," Sparhawk said fervently.

"And is it your intention to kill him?"

"That's been Sparhawk's intention for the last dozen years or so," Kalten said. "Martel sleeps very lightly when Sparhawk's in the same kingdom with him."

"May G.o.d aid your arm then, Sir Sparhawk," the baron said. "My son will rest more peacefully once his betrayer joins him in the House of the Dead."

The door burst open, and Sir Enmann hurried into the room. "My Lord!" he said to Alstrom in urgent tones, "come quickly."

Alstrom came to his feet. "What is it, Sir Enmann!"

"Count Gerich has deceived us. He has a fleet of s.h.i.+ps on the river, and even now his forces are landing on both sides of this promontory."

"Sound the alarm!" the baron commanded, "and raise the drawbridge!"

"At once, My Lord." Enmann hurried from the room.

Alstrom sighed bleakly. "I'm afraid it's too late, Sir Sparhawk," he said. "Both your quest and the task I set you are doomed now. We are under siege, and we will all be trapped within these walls for a number of years, I fear."

Chapter 5.

The booming crash of boulders slamming against the walls of Alstrom's castle came with monotonous regularity as the siege engines of Count Gerich moved into place and began pounding the fortress.

Sparhawk and the others had remained in the cheerless, weapon-cluttered room at Alstrom's request, and they sat awaiting his return.

"I've never been under siege before," Talen said, looking up from his drawings. "How long do they usually last?"

"If we can't come up with a way to get out of here, you'll be shaving by the time it's over," Kurik told him.

"Do something, Sparhawk," the boy said urgently.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Talen looked at him helplessly.

Baron Alstrom came back into the room. His face was bleak. "I'm afraid we're completely encircled," he said.

"A truce, perhaps?" Bevier suggested. "It's customary in Arcium to grant safe pa.s.sage to women and Churchmen before pressing a siege."

"Unfortunately, Sir Bevier," Alstrom replied, "This is not Arcium. This is Lamorkand, and there's no such thing as a truce here."

"Any ideas?" Sparhawk asked Sephrenia.

"A few, perhaps," she said. "Let me have a try at your excellent Elene logic. First, the use of main force to break out of the castle is quite out of the question, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely."

"And, as you pointed out, a truce would probably not be honoured?"

"I certainly wouldn't want to gamble His Grace's life or yours on a truce."

"Then there's the possibility of stealth. I don't think that would work either, do you?"

TOO risky," Kalten agreed. "The castle is surrounded, and the soldiers will be on the alert for people trying to sneak out."

"Subterfuge of some kind?" she asked.

"Not under these circ.u.mstances," Ulath said. "The men surrounding the castle are armed with crossbows. We'd never get close enough to tell them stories."

"That leaves only the arts of Styric.u.m, doesn't it?"

"Ortzel's face stiffened. "I will not be a party to the use of heathen sorcery," he declared.

"I was afraid he might look at it that way," Kalten murmured to Sparhawk.

"I'll try to reason with him in the morning," Sparhawk replied under his breath. He looked at Baron Alstrom.

"It's late, My Lord," he said, "and we're all tired. Some sleep might clear our heads and hint at other solutions."

"Well said, Sir Sparhawk," Alstrom agreed. "My servants will convey you and your companions to safe quarters, and we shall consider this matter further on the morrow."

They were led through the bleak halls of Alstrom's castle to a wing that, while comfortable, showed little sign of use. Supper was brought to them in their rooms, and Sparhawk and Kalten removed their armour. After they had eaten, they sat talking quietly in the chamber they shared.

"I could have told you that Ortzel would feel the way he does about magic. The Churchmen here in Lamorkand feel almost as strongly about it as Rendors."

"If it'd been Dolmant, we might have talked our way around him," Sparhawk agreed glumly.

"Dolmant's more cosmopolitan," Kalten said. "He grew up next door to the Pandion Mother-house, and he knows a great deal more about the secrets than he lets on." There was a light rap on the door. Sparhawk rose and answered it. It was Talen. "Sephrenia wants to see you," he told the big knight. "All right. Go to bed, Kalten. You're still looking a bit the worse for wear. Lead the way, Talen."

The boy took Sparhawk to the end of the corridor and tapped on the door.

"Come in, Talen," Sephrenia replied.

"How did you know it was me?" Talen asked curiously as he opened the door.

"There are ways," she said mysteriously. The small Styric woman was gently brus.h.i.+ng Flute's long black hair. The child had a dreamy look on her small face, and she was humming to herself contentedly. Sparhawk was startled. It was the first vocal sound he had ever heard her utter. "If she can hum, why is it she can't talk?" he asked.

"Whatever gave you the idea she can't talk?" Sephrenia continued her brus.h.i.+ng.

"She never has."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"What did you want to see me about?"

"It's going to take something rather spectacular to get us out of here," she replied, "and I may need your help and that of the others to manage it."