‘Berit here is going to take the ring to Cimmura and drop it in the collection plate during service in the cathedral there. The Primate Annias will take that to mean that his scheme has succeeded and that you and your family have all been murdered. He will then rush to Chyrellos to lay charges against the Pandions before the Hierocracy.’
Count Radun grinned broadly. ‘But then you and I will step forward and refute those charges, right?’
Sparhawk grinned back. ‘Exactly,’ he said.
‘That might cause the primate a certain amount of embarrassment,’ the count said as he tugged the ring off his finger.
‘That was sort of what we had in mind, my Lord.’
‘The ring is well lost, then,’ Radun said, handing his signet to Berit.
‘All right,’ Sparhawk said to the young novice. ‘Don’t kill any horses on your way to Cimmura. Give us time to get to Chyrellos before Annias does.’ He squinted thoughtfully ‘Morning service, I think.’
‘My Lord?’
‘Drop the count’s ring in the collection plate during morning service. Let’s give Annias a whole day to gloat before he starts out for Chyrellos. Wear ordinary clothes when you go into the cathedral and pray a bit – just to make it look convincing. Don’t go near the chapterhouse or the inn on Rose Street.’ He looked at the young novice, feeling a renewed pang at the loss of Sir Parasim. ‘I can’t assure you that your life won’t be in danger, Berit,’ he said soberly, ‘so I can’t order you to do this.’
‘There’s no need to order me to do it, my Lord Sparhawk,’ Berit replied.
‘Good man,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Now go and get your horse. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you.’
It was nearly noon when Sparhawk and Count Radun emerged from the castle. ‘How long do you think it’s going to take for Primate Annias to reach Chyrellos?’ the count asked.
‘Two weeks at least. Berit has to get to Cimmura before Annias can even start for Chyrellos.’
Kurik came riding up to them. ‘Everything’s ready,’ he told Sparhawk.
Sparhawk nodded. ‘You’d better go and get Sephrenia,’ he said.
‘Is that really a good idea, Sparhawk? Things might get a little chancy when we get to Chyrellos.’
‘Do you want to be the one to tell her that she has to stay behind?’
Kurik winced. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said.
‘Where’s Kalten?’
‘Over there at the edge of the woods. He’s building a bonfire for some reason.’
‘Maybe he’s cold.’
The winter sun was very bright in the cold blue sky as Sparhawk and his party set out. ‘Surely, madame,’ Count Radun objected to Sephrenia, ‘the child would have been quite safe within the walls of my castle.’
‘She would not have stayed there, my Lord,’ Sephrenia replied in a small voice She laid her cheek against Flute’s hair ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘I take great comfort in having her with me.’ Her voice sounded weak somehow, and she looked very pale and tired. In one hand she carried Sir Parasim’s sword.
Sparhawk pulled Faran in beside her white palfrey. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her quietly
‘Not really,’ she answered.
‘What’s the matter?’ He felt a sudden alarm.
‘Parasim was one of the twelve knights in the throne room in Cimmura.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve just been obliged to shoulder his burden as well as my own.’ She gestured slightly with the sword. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘Not in the way that you mean, no. It’s just that it’s going to take a little while to adjust to the additional weight.’
‘Is there any way that I could carry it for you?’
‘No, dear one.’
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Sephrenia,’ he said, ‘is what happened to Parasim today a part of what you told me was going to happen to the twelve knights?’
‘There’s no way to know, Sparhawk. The compact we made with the Younger Gods was not that specific.’ She smiled wanly. ‘If another of the knights dies this moon, though, we’ll know that it was merely an accident and had nothing to do with the compact.’
‘We’re going to lose them one every month?’
‘Moon,’ she corrected. ‘Twenty-eight days. Most probably yes. The Younger Gods tend to be methodical about such things. Don’t concern yourself about me, Sparhawk. I’ll be all right in a little while.’
It was some sixty leagues from the count’s castle to the city of Darra, and on the morning of the fourth day of their journey, they crested a hill and looked down upon the red tile roofs and the hundreds of chimneys sending pale blue columns of smoke straight up into the windless air. A black-armoured Pandion Knight awaited them on the hilltop. ‘Sir Sparhawk,’ the knight said, raising his visor.
‘Sir Olven,’ Sparhawk replied, recognizing the knight’s scarred face.
‘I’ve a message for you from Preceptor Vanion. He instructs you to proceed directly to Cimmura with all possible speed.’
‘Cimmura? Why the change in plans?’
‘King Dregos is there, and he’s invited Wargun of Thalesia and Obler of Deira to join him. He wants to investigate the illness of Queen Ehlana – and the justification for the appointment of the bastard Lycheas as Prince Regent. Vanion believes that Annias will level his charges against our order at that council in order to deflect an inquiry that might be embarrassing.’
Sparhawk swore. ‘Berit’s a good way ahead of us by now,’ he said. ‘Have all the kings gathered in Cimmura yet?’
Olven shook his head. ‘King Obler is too old to travel very fast, and it’s likely to take a week to sober King Wargun up before he can make the voyage from Emsat.’
‘Let’s not gamble on that,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We’ll cut across country to Demos and then ride directly to Cimmura. Is Vanion still at Chyrellos?’
‘No. He came through Demos on his way to Cimmura. The Patriarch Dolmant was with him.’
‘Dolmant?’ Kalten said. ‘That’s a surprise. Who’s running the Church?’
‘Sir Kalten,’ Count Radun said stiffly. ‘The guidance of the Church is in the hands of the Archprelate.’
‘Sorry, my Lord,’ Kalten apologized. ‘I know how much Arcians revere the Church, but let’s be honest. Archprelate Cluvonus is eighty-five years old and he sleeps a great deal. Dolmant doesn’t make an issue of it, but most of the decisions that come out of Chyrellos are his.’