The Cammorian Primates were summarily dismissed, and Emban ushered Sparhawk and the others into the room where Dolmant and Ortzel waited.
‘Why didn’t you send word?’ Dolmant demanded.
‘We thought Wargun was going to take care of that, Sarathi,’ Vanion told him.
‘You trusted Wargun with a message that important? All right, what happened?’
Sparhawk, with occasional help from the others, recounted the story of the trip to Zemoch and told them of what had happened there.
‘Kurik?’ Dolmant said in a stricken voice at one point in the narrative.
Sparhawk nodded.
Dolmant sighed and bowed his head in sorrow. ‘I imagine that one of you did something about that,’ he said, his voice almost savage.
‘His son did, Sarathi,’ Sparhawk replied.
Dolmant was aware of Talen’s irregular parentage. He looked at the boy with some surprise. ‘How did you manage to kill a warrior in full armour, Talen?’ he asked.
‘I stabbed him in the back, Sarathi,’ Talen replied in a flat tone of voice, ‘– right in the kidneys. Sparhawk had to help me drive the sword into him, though. I couldn’t get through his armour with it all by myself.’
‘And what will happen to you now, my boy?’ Dolmant sadly asked him.
‘We’re going to give him a few more years, Sarathi,’ Vanion said, ‘and then we’re going to enrol him as a novice in the Pandion order – along with Kurik’s other sons. Sparhawk made Kurik a promise.’
‘Isn’t anybody going to ask me about this?’ Talen demanded in an outraged tone.
‘No,’ Vanion told him, ‘as a matter of fact, we’re not.’
‘A knight?’ Talen protested. ‘Me? Have you people all taken leave of your senses?’
‘It’s not so bad, Talen,’ Berit grinned, ‘once you get used to it.’
Sparhawk continued with the story. A number of things had happened in Zemoch which Ortzel was theologically unprepared to accept, and as the story wound down, his eyes became glazed, and he sat in stupefied shock.
‘And that’s more or less what happened, Sarathi,’ Sparhawk concluded. ‘It’s going to take me a while to get it all sorted out in my mind – the rest of my life, more than likely – and even then there are still going to be a lot of things I won’t understand.’
Dolmant leaned thoughtfully back in his chair. ‘I think that Bhelliom – and the rings – should be in Church custody,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, Sarathi,’ Sparhawk told him, ‘but that’s impossible.’
‘You said what?’
‘We don’t have the Bhelliom any more.’
‘What did you do with it?’
‘We threw it into the sea, Sarathi,’ Bevier replied.
Dolmant stared at him in dismay.
Patriarch Ortzel came to his feet with a look of outrage on his face. ‘Without the permission of the Church?’ he almost screamed. ‘You did not even seek counsel from God?’
‘We were acting on the instructions of another God, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘A Goddess, actually,’ he corrected.
‘Heresy!’ Ortzel gasped.
‘I don’t really think so, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘Aphrael was the one who brought Bhelliom to me. She carried it up out of the chasm in Ghwerig’s cave. After I’d done what we needed to do with it, it was only proper for me to return it to her. She didn’t want it, though. She told me to throw it into the sea, so I did. We are instructed to be courteous, after all.’
‘That does not apply in a situation such as this!’ Ortzel stormed. ‘The Bhelliom’s too important to be treated as some mere trinket! Go back and find it at once and hand it over to the Church!’
‘I think he’s right, Sparhawk,’ Dolmant said gravely. ‘You’re going to have to go and retrieve it.’
Sparhawk shrugged. ‘As you wish, Sarathi,’ he said. ‘We’ll start just as soon as you tell us which ocean to look in.’
‘Surely you –’ Dolmant looked at them helplessly.
‘We have absolutely no idea, Sarathi,’ Ulath assured him. ‘Aphrael took us to a cliff somewhere on some coast, and we threw Bhelliom into the sea. It could have been any coast and any ocean. It may not even be on this world, for all I know. Do they have oceans on the moon? Bhelliom’s gone for good, I’m afraid.’
The Churchmen stared at him in open dismay.
‘I don’t think your Elene God really wants Bhelliom, anyway, Dolmant,’ Sephrenia told the Archprelate. ‘I think your God – like all the others – is very relieved to know that it’s lost for good. I think it frightens all of them. I know that it frightened Aphrael.’ She paused. ‘Have you noticed how long and dreary this winter’s been?’ she asked then. ‘And how low your spirits are?’
‘It’s been a troubled time, Sephrenia,’ Dolmant reminded her.
‘Granted, but I didn’t notice you dancing for joy when you heard that Azash and Otha are gone. Not even that could lift your spirits. Styrics believe that winter’s a state of mind in the Gods. Something happened at Zemoch that’s never happened before. We found out once and for all that the Gods can die too. I seriously doubt that any of us will feel spring in our souls until our Gods are able to come to grips with that. They’re distracted and frightened now – and not really very interested in us – or our problems. They’ve left us to fend for ourselves for a while, I’m afraid. Our magic doesn’t even seem to work any more for some reason. We’re all alone now, Dolmant, and we’ll have to endure this interminable winter until the Gods return.’
Dolmant leaned back in his chair again. ‘You trouble me, little mother,’ he said. He passed one hand wearily across his eyes. ‘I’ll be honest with you, though. I’ve felt this wintery despair myself for the last month and a half. I awoke in the middle of the night once weeping uncontrollably. I haven’t smiled since, or felt any lightness of spirit. I thought it was only me, but perhaps not.’ He paused. ‘And that brings us face to face with our duty as representatives of the Church. We absolutely must find something to distract the minds of the faithful from this universal despair – something to give them purpose, if not joy. What could possibly do that?’
‘The conversion of the Zemochs, Sarathi,’ Bevier replied simply. ‘They’ve followed an evil God for eons. Now they’re Godless. What better task for the Church?’