"The task here in Acie is complete. We can leave for Thalesia at any time now."
"How do you propose to manage that?"
"I'll tell you later. Go and keep Wargun company. He gets lonely without you."
The palace was not a particularly imposing building. It looked to be more like a complex of administrative offices than something built for ostentation and display. "I don't know how Obler can live in this hovel," Wargun said disdainfully, swaying in his saddle. "You there," he bellowed at one of the guards posted at the main door, "go and tell Obler that Wargun of Thalesia has arrived. We need to confer about a few things."
"At once, Your Majesty." The guard saluted and went inside.
Wargun dismounted and unhooked the wineskin from the skirt of his saddle. He uncorked it" and took a long drink. "I hope Obler's got some chilled ale," he said. "This wine's beginning to sour my stomach."
The guard returned. "King Obler will receive you, Your Majesty," he said. "Please follow me."
"I know the way," Wargun replied. "I've been here before. Have somebody see to our horses." He blinked his bloodshot eyes at Sparhawk. "Come along then," he commanded. He did not appear to have missed Talen.
They trooped through the unadorned hallways of King Oblers palace and found the aged king of Deira sitting behind a large table littered with maps and papers.
"Sorry to be so late, Obler," Wargun said, untying his purple cloak and dropping it on the floor. "I made a swing through Pelosia to pick up Soros and an army of sorts."
He sprawled out in a chair. "I'm afraid I'm rather out of touch. What's been going on?"
The Rendors have laid siege to Larium," the white-haired king of Deira replied. "The Alciones, Genidians and Cyrinics are holding the city, and the Pandions are out in the countryside dealing with Rendorish raiding parties."
That's more or less what I'd expected," Wargun grunted. "Can you send for some ale, Obler? My stomach's been bothering me for the past few days. You remember Sparhawk, don't you?"
"Of course. He's the man who saved Count Radun down in Arcium."
"And this one is Kalten. The big one there is Ulath. The one with the dark skin is Bevier, and I'm sure you know Tynian. The Styric woman is called Sephrenia - I'm not really sure about her real name. I'm sure neither one of us could even pronounce it. She teaches the Pandions magic, and that adorable child there is her little girl. The other two work for Sparhawk. I wouldn't aggravate either one of them." He looked around, his eyes bleary.
"What happened to that boy you had with you?" he asked Sparhawk.
"Probably exploring," Sparhawk replied blandly.
"Political discussions bore him."
"Sometimes they bore me as well," Wargun said. He looked back at King Obler. "Have the Elenes mobilized yet?"
"My agents have found no evidence of it."
Wargun started to swear. "I think I'll stop in Cimmura on my way south and hang that young bastard Lycheas."
"I'll lend you a rope, Your Majesty," Kalten offered.
Wargun laughed. "What's happening in Chyrellos, Obler?"
"Cluvonus is in delirium," Obler replied. "He can't last much longer, I'm afraid. Most of the major churchmen are already there preparing for the election of his successor."
"The Primate of Cimmura, most likely," Wargun growled sourly. He took a tankard of ale from a servant.
"That's all right, boy," he said. "Just leave the keg." His voice was slurred. "This is the way I see it, Obler. We'd better get to Larium as quickly as we can. We'll push the Rendors back into the sea so that the militant orders can go to Chyrellos and keep Annias from becoming Archprelate. If that happens, we may have to declare war."
"On the Church?" Obler sounded startled.
"Archprelate's have been deposed before, Obler. Annias won't have any use for a miter if he doesn't have a head. Sparhawk has already volunteered to use his knife."
"You'll start a general civil war, Wargun. No one has directly confronted the Church for centuries."
"Then maybe it's about time. Anything else happening?"
"The Earl of Lenda and Preceptor Vanion of the Pandion order arrived no more than an hour ago," Obler said. "They wanted to get cleaned up. I sent for them just as soon as I'd heard that you'd arrived. They'll join us in a bit."
"Good. We'll be able to settle a lot of things here then. What's the date?"
King Obler told him.
"Your calendar must be wrong, Obler," Wargun said after counting days off on his fingers.
"What did you do with Soros?" Obler asked.
"I came close to killing him," Wargun growled. "I've never seen anybody pray that much when there " was work to be done. I sent him down into Lamorkand to pick up the barons down there. He's riding at the head of the army, but Bergsten's actually the one in charge. Bergsten would make a good Archprelate, if we could ever get him out of that armour." He laughed. "Can you imagine the reaction of the Hierocracy to an Archprelate in a mail shirt and a horned helmet and with a battle"-axe in his hands?"
"It might enliven the Church a bit, Wargun," Obler conceded with a faint smile.
"God knows she needs it," Wargun said. "She's been acting like a frigid old maid since Cluvonus fell ill."
"Would Your Majesties excuse me?" Sparhawk asked deferentially. "I'd like to look in on Vanion. We haven't seen each other for a while, and there are things I need to report to him."
"More of this everlasting Church business?" Wargun asked.
"You know how it is, Your Majesty.
"No, thank God, I don't. Go ahead, Knight of the Church. Talk with your father superior, but don't keep him too long. We've got important business here."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Sparhawk bowed to the two kings and quietly left the room.
Vanion was trying to struggle into his armour when Sparhawk entered the room. He stared at his subordinate in some astonishment. "What are you doing here, Sparhawk?" he demanded. "I thought you were in Lamorkand."
"Just passing through, Vanion," Sparhawk replied.
"Some things have changed. I'll give you the gist of it now, and we can fill you in on more detail after King Wargun goes to bed." He looked critically at his Preceptor. "You're looking tired, my friend."
"Old age," Vanion said ruefully, "and all of those swords I made Sephrenia give me are getting heavier every day. You know that Olven died?"
"Yes. His ghost brought his sword to Sephrenia."
"I was afraid of that. I'll take it away from her."
Sparhawk tapped Vanion's breast-plate with one knuckle. "You don't have to wear this, you know. Oblers fairly informal, and Wargun doesn't even know what the word formal means."
"Appearances, my friend," Vanion said, "and the honour of the Church. Sometimes it's boring, I'll admit, but - " He shrugged. "Help me into this contraption, Sparhawk. You can talk while you're tightening straps and buckling buckles."
"Yes, My Lord Vanion." Sparhawk began to assist his friend into the suit of armour, briefly summarizing the events which had taken place in Lamorkand and Pelosia.
"Why didn't you chase down the Troll?" Vanion asked him. "Some things came up," Sparhawk said, fastening Vanion's black cape to his shoulder-plates, " - Wargun for one thing. I even offered to fight him, but Patriarch Bergsten interfered."
"You challenged a king?" Vanion looked stunned.
"It seemed appropriate at the time, Vanion."
"Oh, my friend," Vanion sighed.
"We'd better get going," Sparhawk said. "There's a lot more to tell you but Wargun's getting impatient."
Sparhawk squinted at Vanion's armour. "Brace yourself," he said. "You're lopsided." Then he banged both of his fists down on Vanion's shoulder plates. "There," he said.
"That's better."
"Thanks," Vanion said drily, his knees buckling slightly.
"The honour of the order, My Lord. I don't want you to look as if you were dressed in cheap tin plates."
Vanion decided not to answer that.
The Earl of Lenda was in the room when Sparhawk and Vanion entered.
"There you are, Vanion," King Wargun said. "Now we can get started. What's happening down in Arcium?"
"The situation hasn't changed all that much, Your Majesty. The Rendors are still besieging Larium, but the Genidians, Cyrinics and Alciones are inside the walls along with most of the Arcian army."
"Is the city in any real danger?"
"Hardly. It's built like a mountain. You know the Arcian fondness for stone-work. It could probably hold out for twenty Years." Vanion looked over at Sparhawk. "I saw an old friend of yours down there," he said. "Martel appears to be in command of the Rendorish army."
"I'd more or less guessed that. I thought I'd nailed his feet to the floor down in Rendor, but apparently he managed to talk his way around Arasham."
"He really didn't have to," King Obler said. "Arasham died a month ago - under highly suspicious circumstances."
"It sounds as if Martel's had his hand in the poison jar again," Kalten said.
"Who's the new spiritual leader in Rendor then?" Sparhawk asked.
"A man named Ulesim," King Obler replied. "I gather he was one of Arasham's disciples."
Sparhawk laughed. "Arasham didn't even know he existed. I've met Ulesim. The man's an idiot. He won't last six months."
"Anyway," Vanion continued, "I have the Pandion order out in the countryside dealing with Rendorish foraging parties. Martel's going to start getting hungry before long. That's about all, Your Majesty," he concluded.
"Nice and to the point. Thanks, Vanion. Lenda, what's going on in Cimmura?"
"Things are about the same, Your Majesty - except that Annias has gone to Chyrellos."
"And he's probably perched on the foot of the Archprelate's bed like a vulture," Wargun surmised.
"I wouldn't be at all surprised, Your Majesty," Lenda agreed. "He left Lycheas in charge. I have a number of people in the palace who work for me, and one of them managed to hear Annias giving Lycheas his final instructions.
He ordered Lycheas to withhold the Elenian army from the campaign in Rendor. As soon as Cluvonus dies, the army - and the Church soldiers in Cimmura - are supposed to march on Chyrellos. Annias wants to flood the holy city with his own men to help intimidate the uncommitted members of the Hierocracy."
"The Elenian army's mobilized then?"
"Fully, Your Majesty. They have an encampment about ten leagues south of Cimmura."
"We'll probably have to fight them, Your Majesty," Kalten said. "Annias dismissed most of the old generals and replaced them with men loyal to him."
Wargun started to swear.
"It may not be quite as serious as it sounds, Your Majesty," the Earl of Lenda said. "I've made an extended study of the law. In times of religious crisis, the militant orders are empowered to take command of all forces in Western Eosia. Wouldn't you say that an invasion by the Eshandist Heresy qualifies as a religious crisis?"
"By God, you're right, Lenda. Is that Elenian law?"
"No, Your Majesty. Church law."
Wargun suddenly howled with laughter. "Oh, that's too rare!" he roared, pounding on the arm of his chair with one beefy fist. "Annias is trying to become the head of the church, and we use church law to spike his wheel.
Lenda, you're a genius."
"I have my moments, Your Majesty," Lenda replied modestly. "I'd imagine that Preceptor Vanion here can persuade the General Staff to join your forces - particularly in view of the fact that Church law empowers him to resort to extreme measures should any officer refuse to accept his authority in such situations."
"I'd imagine that a few beheadings might prove instructional to the General Staff," Ulath said. "If we shorten four or five generals, the rest will probably fall in line."
"Quickly," Tynian added with a grin.
"Keep your axe good and sharp then, Ulath," Wargun said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"About the only problem remaining is what we're going to do about Lycheas," the Earl of Lenda said.
"I've already decided that, Wargun said. "As soon as we get to Cimmura, I'm going to hang him."
"Splendid notion," Lenda said smoothly, "but I think we might want to consider that just a bit. You do know that Annias is the Prince Regent's father, don't you?"
"So Sparhawk tells me, but I don't really care who his father is, I'm going to hang him anyway."
"I'm not really sure just how fond Annias is of his son but he did go to some fairly extreme measures to put him on the Elenian throne. It might just be that the militant orders can use him to some advantage when they get to Chyrellos. An offer to put him to the torture might just persuade Annias to move his troops out of Chyrellos so that the election can proceed without their interference."
"You're taking all the fun out of this, Lenda," Wargun complained. He scowled. "You're probably right, though. All right, when we get to Cimmura, we'll throw him in the dungeon - along with all his toadies. Are you up to taking charge at the Palace?"
"If Your Majesty wishes," Lenda sighed, "but wouldn't Sparhawk or Vanion be a better choice?"
"Maybe, but I'm going to need them when I get to Arcium. What do you think, Obler?"
"I have absolute confidence in the Earl of Lenda," King Obler replied. "I'll do my best, Your Majesties," Lenda said, "but keep in mind the fact that I'm getting very old."
"You're not as old as I am, my friend," King Obler reminded him, "and nobody's offered to let me evade my responsibilities."
"All right, that's settled then," Wargun said. "Now, let's get down to cases. We'll march south to Cimmura, imprison Lycheas and bully the Elenian General Staff into joining with us with their army. We may as well pick up the Church soldiers as well. Then we join Soros and Bergsten on the Arcian border. We march south to Larium, encircle the Rendors and exterminate the lot of them."