Dolmant was still looking around at his friends, his expression suspicious. ‘I thought I’d buried it completely,’ he sighed. ‘I never thought you’d betray me, Sephrenia.’
‘It’s not exactly as if it were shameful, Your Grace,’ Vanion said.
‘It might prove to be politically inconvenient,’ Dolmant said. ‘At least you were able to control your tongue, brother.’
‘Not to worry, Dolmant,’ Emban said expansively. ‘I’ll keep an eye on your friends here, and as soon as I suspect that one of them is starting to have difficulty controlling his tongue, I’ll order him to that monastery at Zemba down in Cammoria where the brothers all take vows of silence.’
‘All right then,’ Vanion said, ‘let’s get started, gentlemen. We have a number of friendly Patriarchs to round up, and Kalten, I want you to go start practising forgery. The names you’ll be substituting on those arrest warrants will have to be in the handwriting of the Earl of Lenda.’ He paused thoughtfully, looking at his blond subordinate. ‘You’d better take Sparhawk with you,’ he added.
‘I can manage, My Lord.’
Vanion shook his head. ‘No, Kalten,’ he disagreed, ‘I don’t think so. I’ve seen your attempts at spelling before.’
‘Bad?’ Darellon asked him.
‘Terrible, my friend. Once he wrote down a six-letter word, and he didn’t manage to get a single letter right.’
‘Some words are difficult to spell, Vanion.’
‘His own name?’
‘But you can’t do this!’ the Patriarch of Cardos protested shrilly as Sparhawk and Kalten dragged him from his house a few days later. ‘You can’t arrest a Patriarch of the Church for anything while the Hierocracy’s in session.’
‘But the Hierocracy’s not in session just now, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk pointed out. ‘They’re in recess during the period of official mourning.’
‘I still cannot be tried by a civil court. I demand that you present these specious charges before an ecclesiastical court.’
‘Take him outside,’ Sparhawk curtly instructed the black-armoured Sir Perraine.
The Patriarch of Cardos was dragged from the room.
‘Why the delay?’ Kalten asked.
‘Two things. Our prisoner didn’t really seem all that surprised at the charges, did he?’
‘Now that you mention it, no.’
‘I think maybe Lenda missed a few names when he was drawing up that list.’
‘That’s always possible. What was the other thing?’
‘Let’s send a message to Annias. He knows that we can’t touch him as long as he stays inside the Basilica, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right then, let’s imprison him there and curtail his freedom of movement – for its irritation value if nothing else. We still owe him for that poisoned cook.’
‘How do you plan to do that?’
‘Watch – and follow my lead.’
‘Don’t I always?’
They went out to the courtyard of the Patriarch’s luxurious house, a house built, Sparhawk was sure, on the backs of the Elenian taxpayers. ‘My colleague and I have considered your request for an ecclesiastical hearing, Your Grace,’ the big Pandion said to the prisoner. ‘We find that your argument has merit.’ He began to leaf through his sheaf of warrants.
‘You’ll deliver me to the Basilica for a hearing there then?’ the Patriarch asked.
‘Hmm?’ Sparhawk said absently, still reading.
‘I said, are you going to take me to the Basilica and present these absurd charges there?’
‘Ah, I don’t think so, Your Grace. That would really be inconvenient.’ Sparhawk pulled out the warrant for the arrest of the Primate of Cimmura and showed it to Kalten.
‘That’s the one, all right,’ Kalten said. ‘That’s the fellow we want.’
Sparhawk rolled up the warrant and tapped it against his cheek. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘We’re going to take you to the Alcione chapterhouse and confine you there. These charges originated in the kingdom of Elenia, and any ecclesiastical proceedings would have to be conducted by the head of the Church in that kingdom. Since Primate Annias is acting for the Patriarch of Cimmura during His Grace’s incapacity, that makes him the man who would preside over this hearing. Strange how things work out, isn’t it? Since Primate Annias is the one in authority in this matter, we’ll freely turn you over to him. All he has to do is to come out of the Basilica, go to the Alcione chapterhouse and order us to turn you over to him.’ He glanced at a red-tunicked officer being guarded by the bleak-looking Sir Perraine. ‘The captain of your guard here will serve as an excellent messenger. Why don’t you have a word with him and explain the situation? Then we’ll send him to the Basilica to tell Annias about it. Tell him to ask the good Primate to come and visit us. We’ll be overjoyed to see him on neutral ground, won’t we, Kalten?’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Kalten replied fervently.
The Patriarch of Cardos gave them a suspicious look, then quickly conferred with the captain of his guard detachment. He kept glancing at the rolled-up warrant in Sparhawk’s hand as he spoke.
‘Do you think he got the point?’ Kalten murmured.
‘I certainly hope so. I did everything but hit him over the head with it.’
The Patriarch of Cardos returned, his face stiff with anger.
‘Oh, one other thing, Captain,’ Sparhawk said to the church soldier, who was preparing to leave. ‘Would you be so good as to convey a personal message to the Primate of Cimmura for us? Tell him that Sir Sparhawk of the Pandion Order invites him to come out from under the dome of Basilica to play in the streets – where certain petty little restrictions won’t interfere with our fun.’
Kurik arrived that evening. He was travel-stained and looked weary. Berit escorted him into Dolmant’s study, and he sank into a chair. ‘I’d have been here a bit sooner,’ he apologized, ‘but I stopped off in Demos to see Aslade and the boys. She gets very cross when I ride through town and don’t stop.’
‘How is Aslade?’ Patriarch Dolmant asked.
‘Fatter,’ Kurik smiled, ‘and I think she’s getting a little silly as the years creep up on her. She was feeling nostalgic, so she took me up into the hayloft.’ His jaw set slightly. ‘I had a long talk with the boys about letting thistles grow in the hayfield later, though.’