Domes of Fire Part 20

'Are there any topics I should avoid, your Grace?' Sparhawk asked. 'I'm not familiar with the Church of Astel, and I don't want to start any theological debates.'

'Our disagreements with the Astels are in the field of Church government, Sparhawk. Our purely theological differences are very minor. We have a secular clergy, but their Church is monastically organised. Our priests are just priests, theirs are also monks. I'll grant you that it's a fine distinction, but it's a distinction nonetheless. They also have many, many more priests and monks than we do-probably about a tenth of the population.'

'That many?'

'Oh, yes. Every n.o.ble mansion in Astel has its own private chapel and its own priest, and the priest 'a.s.sists' in making decisions.'

'Where do they find so many men willing to enter the priesthood?'

'From the ranks of the serfs. Being a clergyman has its drawbacks, but it's better than being a serf.'

'I suppose the Church would be preferable.'

'Much. Morsel will respect you, because you're a member of a religious order. Oh, incidentally, since you're the interim preceptor of the Pandion Knights, you're technically a patriarch. Don't be surprised if he addresses you as 'your Grace.'

They were admitted into Morsel's chambers by a long-bearded monk. Sparhawk had noticed that all Astellian clergymen wore beards. The room was small and panelled in dark wood. The carpet was a deep maroon, and the heavy drapes at the windows were black. There were books and scrolls and dog-eared sheets of parchment everywhere.

'Ah, Emban,' Morsel said. 'What have you been up to?'

'Mischief, Morsel. I've been out proselytising among the heathens.'

'Really? Where did you find any here? I thought most heathens lived in the Basilica in Chyrellos. Sit down, gentlemen. I'll send for some wine and we can debate theology.'

'You've met Sparhawk?' Emban asked as they all took chairs before an open window where the breeze billowed the black drapes.

'Briefly,' Morsel replied. 'How are you today, your Highness?'

'Well. And you, your Grace?'

'Curious, more than anything. Why are we engaging in private consultations?'

'We're all clergymen, your Grace,' Emban pointed out. 'Sparhawk wears a ca.s.sock made of steel most of the time, but he is of the clergy. We've come to discuss something that probably concerns you as much as it does us. I think I know you well enough to know that you've got a practical side that's not going to get sidetracked by the fact that you think we genuflect wrong.'

'What's this?' Sparhawk asked.

'We kneel on our right knee,' Emban shrugged. 'These poor, benighted heathens kneel on the left.'

'Shocking,' Sparhawk murmured. 'Do you think we should come here in force and compel them to do it right?'

'You see?' Emban said to the Archimandrite. 'That's exactly what I was talking about. You should fall to your knees and thank G.o.d that you're not saddled with Church Knights, Morsel. I think most of them secretly wors.h.i.+p Styric G.o.ds.'

'Only the Younger G.o.ds, your Grace,' Sparhawk said mildly. 'We've had our differences with the Elder G.o.ds.'

'He says it so casually,' Morsel shuddered. 'If you think we've exhausted the conversational potential of genuflectory variation, Emban, why don't you get to the point?'

'This is in strictest confidence, your Grace, but our mission here to Tamuli's not entirely what it seems. It was Queen Ehlana's idea, of course. She's not the sort to go anywhere just because somebody tells her to-but all of this elaborate fol-de-rol was just a subterfuge to hide our real purpose, which was to put Sparhawk on the Daresian Continent. The world's coming apart at the seams, so we've decided to let him fix it.'

'I thought that was G.o.d's job.'

'G.o.d's busy just now, and He's got complete confidence in Sparhawk. All sorts of G.o.ds feel that way about him, I understand.' Morsel's eyes widened, and his beard bristled. 'Relax, Morsel,' Emban told him. 'We of the Church are not required to believe in other G.o.ds. All we'have to do is make a few allowances for their speculative existence.'

'Oh, that's different. If this is speculation, I suppose it's all right.'

'There's one thing that isn't speculation, your Grace,' Sparhawk said. 'You've got trouble here in Astel.'

'You've noticed. Your Highness is very perceptive.'

'You may not have been advised, since the Tamuls are trying to keep it on a low key, but very similar things are afoot in many other Daresian kingdoms, and we're beginning to encounter the same sort of problem in Eosia.'

'I think the Tamuls sometimes keep secrets just for the fun of it,' Morsel grunted.

'I have a friend who says the same thing about our Eosian Church,' Sparhawk said cautiously. They had not yet fully explored the Archimandrite's political opinions. A wrong word or two here would not only preclude any possibility of obtaining his help, but might even compromise their mission.

'Knowledge is power,' Emban said rather sententiously, 'and only a fool shares power if he doesn't have to. Let me be blunt, Morsel. What's your opinion of the Tamuls?'

'I don't like them.' Morsel's response was to the point. 'They're heathens, they're members of an alien race, and you can't tell what they're thinking.' Sparhawk's heart sank. 'I have to admit, though, that when they absorbed Astel into their empire, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. Whether we like them or not is beside the point. Their pa.s.sion for order and stability has averted war time and time again in my own lifetime. There have been other empires in ages past, and their time of ascendancy was a time of unmitigated horror and suffering. I think we'll candidly have to admit that the Tamuls are history's finest imperialists. They don't interfere with local customs or religions. They don't disrupt the social structure, and they function through the established governments. Their taxes, however much we complain about them, are really minimal. They build good roads and encourage trade. Aside from that, they generally leave us alone. About all they really insist upon is that we don't go to war with each other. I can live with that-although some of my predecessors felt dreadfully abused because the Tamuls wouldn't let them convert their neighbours by the sword.' Sparhawk breathed a little easier. 'But I'm straying from the point here,' Morsel said. 'You were suggesting a world-wide conspiracy of some kind, I think.'

'Were we suggesting that, Sparhawk?' Emban asked.

'I suppose we were, your Grace.'

'Do you have anything concrete upon which to base this theory, Sir Sparhawk?' Morsel asked.

'Logic is about all, your Grace.'

'I'll listen to logic-as long as she doesn't contradict my beliefs.'

'If a series of events happens in one place and it's identical to a series of events taking place in another, we're justified in considering the possibility of a common source, wouldn't you say?'

'On an interim basis, perhaps.'

'It's about all we have to work with at the moment, your Grace. The same sort of thing could happen at the same time in two different places and still be a coincidence, but when you get up to five or ten different occurrences, coincidence sort of goes out the window. This current upheaval involving Ayachin and the one they call Sabre here in Astel is almost exactly duplicated in the kingdom of Lamorkand in Eosia, and Amba.s.sador Oscagne a.s.sures us that the same sort of thing's erupting in other Daresian kingdoms as well. It's always the same. First there are the rumours that some towering hero of antiquity has somehow returned. Then some firebrand emerges to keep things stirred up. Here in Astel, you've got the wild stories about Ayachin. In Lamorkand, they talk about Drychtnath. Here you have a man named Sabre, and in Lamorkand they've got one named Gerrich. I'm fairly sure we'll find the same sort of thing in Edam, Daconia, Arjuna and Cynesga. Oscagne tells us that their national heroes are putting in an appearance as well.' Sparhawk rather carefully avoided mentioning Krager. He was still not entirely certain where Morsel's sympathies lay.

'You build a good case, Sparhawk,' Morsel conceded. 'But couldn't this master plot be directed at the Tamuls? They aren't widely loved, you know.'

'I think your Grace is overlooking Lamorkand,' Emban said. 'There aren't any Tamuls there. I'm guessing, but I'd say that the master plot-if that's what we want to call it-is directed at the Church in Eosia as opposed to the empire here.'

'Organised anarchy perhaps?'

'I believe that's a contradiction in terms, your Grace,' Sparhawk pointed out. 'I'm not sure that we're far enough along to deal with causes yet, though. Right now we're trying to sort through effects. If we're correct in a.s.suming that this plot is all coming from the same person, then what we're seeing is someone who's got a wric plan with common elements which he modifies to fit each particular culture. What we really want to do is to identify this Sabre fellow.'

'So that you can have him killed?' Morsel's tone was accusing.

'No, your Grace, that wouldn't be practical. If we kill him, he'll be replaced by someone else-somebody we don't know. I want to know who he is, and what he is and everything I can possibly find out about him. I want to know how he thinks, what drives him and what his personal motivations are. If I know all of that, I can neutralise him without killing him. To be completely honest with you, I don't really care about Sabre. I want the one who's behind him.'

Morsel seemed shaken. 'This is a dreadful man, Emban,' he said in a hushed tone.

'Implacable is the word, I think.'

'If we can believe Oscagne-and I think we can, someone's using the arcane arts in this business,' Sparhawk told them. 'That's why the Church Knights were created originally. It's our business to deal with magic. Our Elene religion can't cope with it because there's no place in our faith for it. We had to go outside the faith to the Styrics-to learn how to counteract magic. It opened some doors we might have preferred had been left closed, but that's the price we had to pay. Somebody or something-on the other side's using magic of a very high order. I'm here to stop him to kill him if need be. Once he's gone, the Atans can deal with Sabre. I know an Atan, and if her people are at all like her, I know we can count on them to be thorough.'

'You trouble me, Sparhawk,' Morsel admitted. 'Your devotion to your duty's almost inhuman, and your resolve goes even beyond that. You shame me, Sparhawk.' He sighed and sat tugging at his beard, his eyes lost in thought. finally, he straightened. 'All right, Emban, can we suspend the rules?'

'I didn't quite follow that.'

'I wasn't going to tell you this,' the Archimandrite said, 'first of all because it'll probably raise your doctrinal hackles, but more importantly because I didn't really want to share it with you. This implacable Sparhawk of yours has convinced me otherwise. If I don't tell you what I know, he'll dismantle Astel and everyone in it to get the information, won't you, Sparhawk?'

'I'd really hate that, your Grace.'

'But you'd do it anyway, wouldn't you?'

'If I had to.'

Morsel shuddered. 'You're both churchmen, so I'm going to invoke the rule of clerical confidentiality. You haven't changed the requirements of that in Chyrellos yet, have you, Emban?'

'Not unless Sarathi did it since I've been gone. At any rate, you have our word that neither of us will reveal anything you tell us.'

'Except to another clergyman,' Morsel amended. 'I'll go that far.'

'All right,' Emban agreed.

Morsel leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. 'The Tamuls have no real conception of how powerful the Church is in the Elene kingdoms here in Western Daresia,' he began. 'In the first place, their religion's hardly more than a set of ceremonies. Tamuls don't even think about religion, so they can't understand the depth of the faith in the hearts of the devout-and the serfs of Astel are quite likely the most devout people on earth. They take all of their problems to their priests, and not only their own problems, but their neighbours' as well. The serfs are everywhere and they see everything, and they tell their priests.'

'I think it was called tale-bearing when I was in the seminary,' Emban noted.

'We had a worse name for it during our novitiate,' Sparhawk added. 'All sorts of unpleasant accidents used to happen on the training-field because of it.'

'n.o.body likes a snitch,' Morsel agreed, 'but like it or not, the Astellian clergy knows everything that happens in the kingdom, literally everything. We're sworn to keep these secrets, of course, but we feel that our primary responsibility is to the spiritual health of our flock. Since a large proportion of our priests were originally serfs, they simply don't have the theological training to deal with complex spiritual problems. We've devised a way to provide them with the advice they need. The serf-priests do not reveal the names of those who have come to them, but they do take serious matters to their superiors, and their superiors bring those matters to me.'

'I have no real difficulty with that,' Emban said. 'As long as the names are kept secret, the confidentiality hasn't been violated.'

'We'll get on well together, Emban.' Morsel smiled briefly. 'The serfs look upon Sabre as a liberator.'

'So we gathered,' Sparhawk told him. 'There seems to be a certain lack of consistency in his speeches, though. He tells the n.o.bles that Ayachin wants to throw off the Tamul yoke, and then he tells the serfs that Ayachin's real goal is the abolition of serfdom. Moreover, he's persuaded the n.o.bles to become very brutal in their dealings with the serfs. That's not only disgusting, it's irrational. The n.o.bles should be trying to enlist the serfs, not alienate them. Viewed realistically, Sabre's no more than an agitator, and he's not even particularly subtle. He's a political adolescent.'

'That's going a little far, Sparhawk,' Emban protested. 'How do you account for his success then? An idiot like that could never persuade the Astels to accept his word.'

'They're not accepting his word. They're accepting Ayachin's.'

'Have you taken leave of your senses, Sparhawk?'

'No, your Grace. I mentioned before that someone on the other side's been using magic. This is what I was talking about. The people here have actually been seeing Ayachin himself.'

'That's absurd!' Morsel seemed profoundly disturbed.

Sparhawk sighed. 'For the sake of your Grace's theological comfort, let's call it some kind of hallucination, a ma.s.s illusion created by a clever charlatan, or some accomplice dressed in archaic clothing who appears suddenly in some spectacular fas.h.i.+on. Whatever its source, if what's happening here is anything like what's happening in Lamorkand, your people are absolutely convinced that Ayachin's returned from the grave. Sabre probably makes a speech-a rambling collection of disconnected plat.i.tudes-and then this hallucination appears in a flash of light and a clap of thunder and confirms all his p.r.o.nouncements. That's a guess, of course, but it's probably not too far off the mark.'

'It's an elaborate hoax then?'

'If that's what you want to believe, your Grace.'

'But you don't believe it's a hoax, do you, Sparhawk?'

'I've been trained not to actively disbelieve things, your Grace. Whether the apparition of Ayachin is real or some trick is beside the point. It's what the people believe that's important, and I'm sure they believe that Ayachin's returned and that Sabre speaks for him. That's what makes Sabre so dangerous. With the apparition to support him, he can make people believe anything. That's why I have to find out everything about him that I can. I have to be able to know what he's going to do so that I can counter him.'

'I'm going to behave as if I believe what you've just told me, Sparhawk,' Morsel said in a troubled voice. 'I really think you need some spiritual help, though.' His face grew grave. 'We know who Sabre is,' he said finally. 'We've known for over a year now. At first we thought as you do that he was no more than a dielinkd fanatic with a taste for melodrama. We expected the Tamuls to deal with him, so we didn't think we had to do anything ourselves. I've had some second thoughts on that score of late, though. On the condition that neither of you will reveal anything I say except to another clergyman, I'll tell you who he is. Do I have your word on that condition?'

'You have, your Grace,' Emban swore. 'And you, Sparhawk?'

'Of course.'

'Very well, then. Sabre's the younger brother-in-law of a minor n.o.bleman who has an estate a few leagues to the east of Esos.' It all fell into place in Sparhawk's mind with a loud clank. 'The n.o.bleman is a Baron Kotyk, a silly, ineffectual fool. Sabre's a melodramatic adolescent named Elron.'

Chapter 13.

'That's impossible!' Sparhawk exclaimed.

Morsel was taken aback by his sudden vehemence. 'We have more than ample evidence, Sir Sparhawk. The serf who reported the fact has known him since childhood. You've met Elron, I gather.'

'We took shelter from a storm in Baron Kotyk's house,' Emban explained. 'Elron could be Sabre, you know, Sparhawk. He's certainly got the right kind of mentality. Why are you so certain he's not the one?'

'He couldn't have caught up with us,' Sparhawk said lamely. Morsel looked baffled.

'We saw Sabre in the woods on our way here,' Emban told him. 'It was the sort of thing you'd expect-a masked man in black on a black horse outlined against the sky-silliest thing I ever saw. We weren't really moving all that fast, Sparhawk. Elron could have caught up with us quite easily.'

Sparhawk could not tell him that they had, in fact, been moving far too rapidly for anyone to have caught them-not with Aphrael tampering with time and distance the way she had been. He choked back his objections.

'It just surprised me, that's all,' he lied. 'Stragen and I spoke with Elron the night we were there. I can't believe he'd be out stirring up the serfs. He had nothing but contempt for them.'

'A pose, perhaps?' Morsel suggested. 'Something to conceal his real feelings?'

'I don't think he's capable of that, your Grace. He was too ingenuous for that kind of subtlety.'

'Don't be too quick to make judgements, Sparhawk,' Emban told him. 'if there's magic involved, it wouldn't make any difference what kind of man Sabre is, would it? Isn't there some way he could be rather tightly controlled?'

'Several, actually,' Sparhawk admitted.

'I'm a little surprised you didn't consider that yourself. You're the expert on magic. Elron's personal beliefs are probably beside the point. When he's speaking as Sabre, it's the man behind him-our real adversary who's talking.'

'I should have thought of that.' Sparhawk was angry with himself for having overlooked the obvious-and the equally obvious explanation for Elron's ability to overtake them. Another G.o.d could certainly compress time and distance the same way Aphrael could. 'Just how widespread is this contempt for the serfs, your Grace?' he asked Morsel.

'Unfortunately, it's almost universal, Prince Sparhawk,' Morsel sighed. 'The serfs are uneducated and superst.i.tious, but they're not nearly as stupid as the n.o.bility would like to believe. The reports I've received tell me that Sabre spends almost as much time denouncing the serfs as he does the Tamuls when he's speaking to the n.o.bility. 'Lazy' is about the kindest thing he says about them. He's managed to half-persuade the gentry that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls in some vast, dark plot with its ultimate goal being the emanc.i.p.ation of the serfs and the redistribution of the land. The n.o.bles are responding predictably. First they were goaded into hating the Tamuls, and then they were led to believe that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls and that their estates and positions are threatened by that alliance. They don't dare confront the Tamuls directly because of the Atans, so they're venting their hostility on their own serfs. There have been incidents of unprovoked savagery upon a cla.s.s of people who will march en ma.s.se into heaven at the final judgement. The Church is doing what she can, but there's only so far we can go in restraining the gentry.'