‘I sort of liked the naked lady,’ Sparhawk disagreed.
‘Have you two been drinking?’ the abbot asked suspiciously
‘Not a drop, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s a thought, though, if you’ve got anything handy. Where’s Sephrenia?’
‘I persuaded her that she and the child should get some sleep.’ The abbot paused. ‘What naked lady?’ he demanded, his eyes afire with curiosity
‘There was a woman up on a roof going through that fertility ritual,’ Sparhawk told him, still laughing. ‘She sort of distracted Kurik for a moment or two.’
‘Was she pretty?’ The abbot grinned at Kurik.
‘I couldn’t really say, my Lord. I wasn’t looking at her face.’
‘My Lord Abbot,’ Sparhawk said then, a bit more seriously, though he still felt enormously exuberant, ‘we’re going to question Elius as soon as he wakes up. Please don’t be alarmed by some of the things we say to him.’
‘I quite understand, Sparhawk,’ the abbot replied.
‘Good. All right, Kurik, let’s wake up his Excellency here and see what he has to say for himself.’
Kurik stripped the blanket off the consul’s limp body and began pinching the unconscious man’s ears and nose. After a moment, the consul’s eyelids fluttered. Then he groaned and opened his eyes. He stared blankly at them for a moment, then sat up quickly. ‘Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
Kurik smacked him firmly across the back of the head.
‘You see how it is, Elius,’ Sparhawk said blandly. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Elius, do you? Possibly you may remember me. The name’s Sparhawk.’
‘Sparhawk?’ the consul gasped. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘That’s a highly exaggerated rumour, Elius. Now, the fact of the matter is that you’ve been abducted. We have a number of questions for you. Things will go much more pleasantly for you if you answer them freely. Otherwise, you’re in for a very bad night.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
Kurik hit him again.
‘I’m the consul of the Kingdom of Elenia,’ Elius blustered, trying to cover the back of his head with both hands, ‘and the cousin of the Primate of Cimmura. You can’t do this to me.’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘Break a few of his fingers, Kurik,’ he suggested, ‘just to show him that we can do this to him.’
Kurik set his foot against the consul’s chest, pushed him back onto the floor, and seized the weakly struggling captive’s right wrist.
‘No!’ Elius squealed. ‘Don’t! I’ll tell you anything you want.’
‘I told you he’d co-operate, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said conversationally to the abbot, pulling off his Rendorish robe to stand revealed in his mail coat and sword belt, ‘just as soon as he understood the seriousness of the situation.’
‘Your methods are direct, Sir Sparhawk,’ the abbot noted.
‘I’m a plain man, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, scratching at one mailed armpit. ‘Subtlety isn’t one of my strong points.’ He nudged the captive with one foot. ‘All right, then, Elius, I’ll make things simple for you. All you have to do at first is confirm a number of statements.’ He drew up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. ‘First of all, your cousin, the Primate of Cimmura, has his eyes on the throne of the Archprelacy, right?’
‘You have no proof of that.’
‘Break his thumb, Kurik.’
Still holding the consul’s wrist in his grip, Kurik prised open the man’s clenched fist and grasped his thumb. ‘In how many places, my Lord?’ he asked politely
‘Do as many as you can, Kurik. Give him something to think about.’
‘No! No! It’s true!’ Elius gasped, his eyes wide with terror.
‘We’re making real progress here,’ Sparhawk observed with a relaxed smile. ‘Now. You’ve had dealings in the past with a white-haired man named Martel. He works for your cousin from time to time. Am I right?’
‘Y-yes,’ Elius faltered.
‘Notice how it gets easier as you go along? In fact it was you who set Martel and his hirelings on me that night about ten years ago, wasn’t it?’
‘It was his idea,’ Elius blurted quickly. ‘I’d received orders from my cousin to co-operate with him. He suggested that I summon you that night. I had no idea that he intended to kill you.’
‘You’re very naïve then, Elius. Lately, a fair number of travellers from the northern kingdoms have been circulating rumours here in Cippria that there’s a groundswell of sympathy for Rendorish aims in those kingdoms. Is Martel in any way connected with that campaign?’
Elius stared at him, his lips pressed fearfully shut.
Slowly, Kurik began to bend his thumb back.
‘Yes! Yes!’ Elius squeaked, arching back in pain.
‘You were almost backsliding there, Elius,’ Sparhawk chided. ‘I’d watch that if I were you. The whole purpose of Martel’s campaign here is to persuade the city dwellers of Rendor to join with the desert nomads in an Eshandist uprising against the Church. Am I right?’
‘Martel doesn’t confide in me all that much, but I suppose that’s his ultimate goal, yes.’
‘And he’s supplying weapons, right?’
‘I’ve heard that he is.’
‘This next one is tricky, Elius, so listen carefully. The real point here is to stir things up so that the Church Knights will have to come here and quiet them down again. Isn’t that so?’
Elius nodded sullenly ‘Martel himself hasn’t said so, but my cousin intimated as much to me in his last letter.’
‘And the uprising is to be timed to coincide with the election of the new Archprelate in the Basilica of Chyrellos?’
‘I really don’t know that, Sir Sparhawk. Please believe me. You’re probably right, but I can’t really say for certain.’
‘We’ll let that one pass for the moment. Now, I have a burning curiosity Just where is Martel right now?’
‘He’s gone to Dabour to talk with Arasham. The old man’s trying to whip his followers into a frenzy so that they’ll start burning churches and expropriating church lands. Martel was very upset when he heard about it, and he hurried to Dabour to try to head it off.’
‘Probably because it was premature?’