‘Mirtai!’ Ehlana gasped, flushing.
‘You mean you didn’t? I’m disappointed in you.’
‘I didn’t think of it,’ Ehlana confessed. ‘Why didn’t you say something, Sparhawk?’
Emban for some reason was blushing furiously. ‘Why don’t I just run along?’ he said. ‘I have a million things to take care of.’ And he bolted from the room.
‘Was it something I said?’ Mirtai asked innocently.
‘Emban’s a Churchman, dear,’ Sephrenia told her, trying to stifle a laugh. ‘Churchmen prefer not to know too much about such things.’
‘Foolishness. Eat, Ehlana.’
The gathering on the steps of the Basilica was not quite a ceremony, but rather was one of those informally formal affairs customarily put on for public entertainment. Dolmant was there to lend solemnity to the affair. The kings, crowned and robed, were present to give things an official tone, and the Preceptors of the militant orders to add a martial note. Dolmant began things with a prayer. That was followed by brief remarks from the kings and then by slightly longer ones from the Preceptors. Sparhawk and his companions then knelt to receive the Archprelate’s blessing, and the whole affair was concluded by the farewell between Ehlana and her Prince Consort. The Queen of Elenia, speaking once again in that oratorical tone, commanded her champion to go forth and conquer. She concluded by removing her ring and bestowing it upon him as a mark of her special favour. He responded by replacing it upon her hand with a ring surmounted with a heart-shaped diamond. Talen had been a bit evasive about how the ring had come into his possession when he had pressed it upon Sparhawk just prior to the gathering on the steps.
‘And now, my champion,’ Ehlana concluded, perhaps a bit dramatically, ‘go forth with your brave companions, and know that our hopes, our prayers and all our faith ride with you. Take up the sword, my husband and champion, and defend me and our faith and our beloved homes against the vile hordes of heathen Zemoch!’ And then she embraced him and bestowed a single brief kiss upon his lips.
‘Nice speech, love,’ he murmured his congratulations.
‘Emban wrote it,’ she confessed. ‘He’s got the soul of a meddler. Try to get word to me now and then, my husband, and in the name of God, be careful.’
He gently kissed her forehead, and then he and his friends strode purposefully to the foot of the marble stairs and their waiting horses as the bells of the Basilica rang out their own farewell. The Preceptors of the militant orders, who were to ride out with them a little way, followed. Kring and his mounted Peloi were already waiting in the street. Before they set out, Kring rode forward to where Mirtai stood, and his horse performed that ritual genuflection to her. Neither of them spoke, but Mirtai did look slightly impressed.
‘All right, Faran,’ Sparhawk said as he swung up into the saddle, ‘it’s all right for you to indulge yourself just a bit.’
The big, ugly roan’s ears pricked forward eagerly, and he began to prance outrageously as the war-like party moved off in the direction of the east gate.
Once they had passed the gate, Vanion left Sephrenia’s side and drew his horse in beside Faran. ‘Stay alert, my friend,’ he advised. ‘Have you got Bhelliom where you can get your hands on it in a hurry if you have to?’
‘It’s inside my surcoat,’ Sparhawk said. He looked closely at his friend. ‘Don’t take this wrong,’ he said, ‘but you’re looking decidedly seedy this morning.’
‘I’m tired more than anything, Sparhawk. Wargun kept us running pretty hard down there in Arcium. Take care of yourself, my friend. I want to go and talk with Sephrenia before we separate.’
Sparhawk sighed as Vanion rode back along the column to join the small, beautiful woman who had tutored generations of Pandions in the secrets of Styricum. Sephrenia and Vanion would never say anything overtly, even to each other, but Sparhawk knew how things stood between them, and he also knew how totally impossible their situation was.
Kalten pulled in beside him. ‘Well, how did the wedding night go?’ he asked, his eyes very bright.
Sparhawk gave him a long, flat look.
‘You don’t want to talk about it, I gather.’
‘It’s sort of private.’
‘We’ve been friends since boyhood, Sparhawk. We’ve never had any secrets from each other.’
‘We have now. It’s about seventy leagues to Kadach, isn’t it?’
‘That’s fairly close. If we push, we should be able to make it in five days. Did Martel sound at all concerned when he was talking with Annias down in that cellar? What I’m getting at is do you think he’ll be worried enough about our following him to hurry right along?’
‘He definitely wanted to leave Chyrellos.’
‘He’s probably pushing his horses hard then, wouldn’t you say?’
‘That’s a safe bet.’
‘His horses will tire if he runs them hard, so we still might have a chance to catch up with him after a few days. I don’t know about how you feel about him, but I’d certainly like to catch Adus.’
‘It’s something to think about, all right. How’s the country between Kadach and Motera?’
‘Flat. Mostly farmland. Castles here and there. Farm villages. It’s a great deal like eastern Elenia.’ Kalten laughed. ‘Have you taken a look at Berit this morning? He’s having a little trouble adjusting to his armour. It doesn’t fit him all that well.’ Berit, the raw-boned young novice, had been promoted to a rank seldom used by the militant orders. He was now an apprentice knight rather than a novice. This legally enabled him to wear his own armour, but he did not as yet rate a ‘sir’.
‘He’ll get used to it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘When we stop for the night, take him aside and show him how to pad the raw spots. We don’t want him to start bleeding out of the joints of his armour. Be discreet about it, though. If I remember rightly, a young fellow’s very proud and a little touchy when he first puts his armour on. That sort of passes after the first few blisters break.’
It was when they reached a hilltop several miles from Chyrellos that the Preceptors turned back. The advice and the cautions had all been given, and so there was little to do but clasp hands and to wish each other well. Sparhawk and his friends rather soberly watched as their leaders rode back to the Holy City.