The drawbridge boomed down, and they clattered on across it into the castle's main court. "And it please you, Sir Knights," the Lamork knight said, dismounting, "I will convey you directly into the presence of the Baron Alstrom and His Grace, the Patriarch Ortzel. Time is pressing, and we must see His Grace safely out of the castle ere the forces of Count Gerich mount their siege."
"Lead on, Sir Knight," Sparhawk said, clanking down from Faran's back. He leaned his lance against the wall of the stable, hung his silver-embossed black shield on his saddle and handed his reins to a waiting groom.
They went up a broad stone staircase and through the pair of massive doors at its top. The hallway beyond was torch lit, and the stones of its walls were massive. "Did you warn that groom?" Kalten asked, falling in beside Sparhawk, his long black cape swirling about his ankles.
"About what?"
"Your horse's disposition."
"I forgot," Sparhawk confessed. "He'll find out on his own, I imagine."
"He probably already has."
The room to which the Lamork knight led them was bleak. In many respects it was more like an armoury than living quarters. Swords and axes hung on the walls, and pikes in clusters of a dozen or so leaned in the corners. A fire burned in a huge, vaulted fireplace, and the few chairs were heavy and unpadded. There was no carpeting on the floor, and a number of huge wolf-hounds dozed here and there.
Baron Alstrom was a grim-faced, melancholy-looking man. His black hair and beard were shot with grey. He wore a mail coat and had a broadsword at his waist. His surcoat was black and elaborately embroidered in red, and like the knight in the pig-faced helmet, he wore boots.
Their escort bowed stiffly. "By good fortune, My Lord, I encountered these Knights of the Church no more than a league from your walls. They were gracious enough to accompany me here."
"Did we have any choice?" Kalten muttered.
The Baron rose from his chair with a movement made clumsy by the encumbrance of armour and sword.
"Greetings, Sir Knights," he said, in a voice without much warmth. "It was indeed fortuitous that Sir Enmann encountered you so near this stronghold. The forces of mine enemy will presently besiege me here, and my brother must be safely away before they come."
"Yes, My Lord," Sparhawk replied, removing his black helmet and looking after the departing Lamork in the chain coat. "Sir Enmann advised us of the circumstances. Might it not have been more prudent, however, to have sent your brother on his way with an escort of your own troops? It was only a chance meeting that brought us to your gate ahead of your enemies."
Alstrom shook his head. "The warriors of Count Gerich would certainly attack my men on sight. Only under escort of the Knights of the Church will my brother be safe, Sir - ?"
"Sparhawk."
Alstrom looked briefly surprised. "The name is not unknown to us," he said. He looked inquiringly at the others, and Sparhawk made the introductions.
"An oddly assorted party, Sir Sparhawk," Alstrom observed after he had bowed perfunctorily to Sephrenia. "But is it wise to take the lady and the two children on a Journey that might involve danger?"
"The lady is essential to our purpose," Sparhawk replied. "The little girl is under her care, and the boy is her page. She would not leave them behind."
"Page?" he heard Talen whisper to Berit. "I've been called a lot of things, but that's a new one."
"Hush," Berit whispered back.
"What astonishes me even more, however," Alstrom continued, "Is the fact that all four of the militant orders are represented here. Relations between the orders have not been cordial of late, I've been told."
"We are embarked upon a quest which directly involves the Church," Sparhawk explained, taking off his gauntlets. "It is of such pressing urgency that our Preceptors brought us together that we might by our unity Prevail."
"The unity of the Church Knights, like that of the Church herself, is long overdue," a harsh voice said from the far side of the room. A Churchman stepped out of the shadows. His black cassock was plain, even severe, and his hollow cheeked face was bleakly ascetic. His hair was pale blond, streaked with grey, and it fell straight to his shoulders, appearing to have been hacked off at that point with the blade of a knife.
"My brother," Alstrom introduced him, "the Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach."
Sparhawk bowed, his armour creaking slightly. "Your Grace," he said.
"This Church matter you mentioned interests me," Ortzel said, coming forward into the light. "What can it be that is of such urgency that it impels the Preceptors of the four orders to set aside old enmities and to send their champions forth as one?"
Sparhawk thought only a moment, then gambled. "Is Your Grace perhaps acquainted with Annias, Primate of Cimmura?" he asked, depositing his gauntlets in his helmet.
Ortzel's face hardened. "We've met," he said flatly.
"We've also had that pleasure, " Kalten said drily, "often enough to more than satisfy me, at least."
Ortzel smiled briefly. "I gather that our opinions of the good Primate more or less coincide," he suggested.
"Your Grace is perceptive," Sparhawk noted smoothly.
"The Primate of Cimmura aspires to a position in the Church for which our Preceptors feel he is unqualified."
"I have heard of his aspirations in that direction."
"This is the main thrust of our quest, Your Grace," Sparhawk explained. "The Primate of Cimmura is deeply involved in the politics of Elenia. The lawful queen of that realm is Ehlana, daughter to the late King Aldreas. She is, however, gravely ill, and Primate Annias controls the royal council - which means, of course, that he also controls the royal treasury. It is his access to that treasury that fuels his hopes to ascend the throne of the high prelacy. He has more or less unlimited funds at his disposal, and certain members of the Hierocracy have proved to be susceptible to his blandishments. It is our mission to restore the queen to health so that she might once again take the rulership of her kingdom into her own hands."
"An unseemly state of affairs, " Baron Alstrom observed disapprovingly. "No kingdom should be ruled by a woman."
"I have the honour to be the queen's champion, My Lord," Sparhawk declared, "and, I hope, her friend as well. I have known her since she was a child, and I assure you that Ehlana is no ordinary woman. She has more steel in her than almost any other monarch in all of Eosia. Once she is restored to health, she will be more than a match for the Primate of Cimmura. She will cut off his access to the treasury as easily as she would snip off a stray lock of hair, and without that money, the Primate's hopes die."
"Then your quest is a noble one, Sir Sparhawk," Patriarch Ortzel approved, "but why has it brought you to Lamorkand?"
"May I speak frankly, Your Grace?"
"Of course."
"We have recently discovered that queen Ehlana's illness is not of natural origin, and to cure her, we must resort to extreme measures."
"You're speaking too delicately, Sparhawk," Ulath growled, removing his Ogre-horned helmet. "What my Pandion brother is trying to say, Your Grace, is that Queen Ehlana has been poisoned, and that we'll have to use magic to bring her back to health."
"Poisoned?" Ortzel paled. "Surely you do not suspect Primate Annias?"
"Everything points that way, Your Grace," Tynian said, pushing back his blue cape. "The details are tedious, but we have strong evidence that Annias was behind it all."
"You must bring these charges before the Hierocracy," Ortzel exclaimed. "If they are true, this is monstrous."
"The matter is already in the hands of the Patriarch of Demos, Your Grace," Sparhawk assured him. "I think we can trust him to lay it before the Hierocracy at the proper time."
"Dolmant is a good man," Ortzel agreed. "I'll abide by his decision in the matter - for the time being, at least."
"Please be seated, Sir Knights," the Baron said. "The urgency of this present situation has made me remiss in matters of courtesy. Might I offer you some refreshment?"
Kalten's eyes brightened.
"Never mind," Sparhawk muttered to him, holding a chair for Sephrenia. She sat, and Flute came over and climbed up into her lap. "Your daughter, Madame?" Ortzel surmised.
"No, Your Grace. She's a foundling - of sorts. I'm fond of her, however."
"Berit," Kurik said, "we're just in the way here. Let's go to the stables. I want to check over the horses." And the two of them left the room.
"Tell me, My Lord," Bevier said to Baron Alstrom, "what is it that has brought you to the brink of war? Some ancient dispute, perhaps?"
"Oh No, Sir Bevier," the baron replied, his face hardening, "this is an affair of more recent origin. Perhaps a year ago my only son became friendly with a knight who said he was from Cammoria. I have since discovered that the man is a villain. He encouraged my young and foolish son in the vain hope of obtaining the hand of the daughter of my neighbour, Count Gerich. The girl seemed amenable, though her father and I have never been friends. Not long after, however, Gerich announced that he had promised his daughter's hand to another. My son was enraged. His so-called friend goaded him on in this and proposed a desperate plan: they would abduct the girl, find a priest willing to marry her to my son, and present Gerich with a number of grandchildren to still his wrath. They scaled the walls of the Count's castle and crept into the girl's bedchamber. I have since discovered that my son's supposed friend had alerted the Count, and Gerich and his sister's seven sons sprang from hiding as the two entered. My son, believing that it had been the Count's daughter who had betrayed him, plunged his dagger into her breast before the Count's nephews fell upon him with their swords." Alstrom paused, his teeth clenched and his eyes brimming.
"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 massacre 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.