The Sapphire Rose

Stragen thought it over. ‘It’s a workable plan,’ he approved. ‘It doesn’t take nearly as much training to defend a city as it does to attack one.’ He looked at his large, crestfallen friend. ‘If it’s all right, Your Majesty,’ he said to Ehlana, ‘I’ll take your protector here somewhere and pour some ale into him. He looks a trifle distraught for some reason.’

‘As you wish, Milord,’ she smiled. ‘Can you think of any crimes you might have committed in my kingdom you’d like to have me pardon? On the same terms?’

‘Ah, no, Your Majesty,’ he replied. ‘The thieves’ code forbids my poaching in Platime’s private preserve. If it weren’t for that, I’d rush out and murder somebody – just for the sake of spending the rest of my life in your divine company.’ His eyes were wicked.

‘You’re a very bad man, Milord Stragen.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ he agreed, bowing. ‘Come along, Platime. It won’t seem nearly so bad once you get used to it.’

‘That was very, very slick, Your Majesty,’ Talen said after they had left. ‘Nobody’s ever swindled Platime that way before.’

‘Did you really like it?’ She sounded pleased.

‘It was brilliant, My Queen. Now I can see why Annias poisoned you. You’re a very dangerous woman.’

She beamed at Sparhawk. ‘Aren’t you proud of me, dear?’

‘I think your kingdom’s safe, Ehlana. I just hope the other monarchs are on their guard, that’s all.’

‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ she asked, looking at her still-moist palm. ‘I’d like to wash my hands.’

It was not long afterwards when Vanion gravely led the others into the queen’s sitting-room. The Preceptor bowed perfunctorily to Ehlana. ‘Have you talked with Platime yet?’ he asked Sparhawk.

‘It’s all arranged,’ Sparhawk assured him.

‘Good. We’re going to have to ride to Demos tomorrow morning. Dolmant sent word that Archprelate Cluvonus is on his deathbed. He won’t last out the week.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘We knew it was coming,’ he said. ‘Thank God we had time to take care of things here before it happened. Platime and Stragen are somewhere in the palace, Kurik – drinking probably. You’d better get together with them and work out some kind of organizational plans.’

‘Right,’ the squire said.

‘A moment, Master Kurik,’ the Earl of Lenda said. ‘How are you feeling, Your Majesty?’ he asked Ehlana.

‘I’m fine, My Lord.’

‘Do you think you’re strong enough to make a public appearance?’

‘Of course, Lenda. I’m perfectly all right.’

‘Good. Once our generals and Master Kurik have gathered up our home guard, I think a few short speeches from you might go a long way towards firing them up – appeals to their patriotism, denunciations of the church soldiers, a few veiled references to the perfidy of the Primate Annias, that sort of thing.’

‘Of course, Lenda,’ she agreed. ‘I like to make speeches anyway.’

‘You’ll have to stay here until you’ve got things all set up,’ Sparhawk said to Kurik. ‘You can join us in Chyrellos when Cimmura’s secure.’

Kurik nodded and quietly left.

‘That’s a very good man, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said.

‘Yes.’

Sephrenia had been looking critically at the rosy-cheeked queen. ‘Ehlana,’ she said.

‘Yes?’

‘You really shouldn’t pinch your cheeks like that to make them pink, you know. You’ll bruise your skin. You’re very fair, and your skin is delicate.’

Ehlana blushed. Then she laughed ruefully. ‘It is a bit vain, isn’t it?’

‘You’re a queen, Ehlana,’ the Styric woman told her, ‘not a milk-maid. Fair skin is more regal.’

‘Why do I always feel like a child when I’m talking with her?’ Ehlana asked no one in particular.

‘We all do, Your Majesty,’ Vanion assured her.

‘What’s happening in Chyrellos now?’ Sparhawk asked his friend. ‘Did Dolmant give you any details?’

‘Annias controls the streets,’ Vanion replied. ‘He hasn’t done anything overt yet, but his soldiers are letting themselves be seen. Dolmant thinks he’ll try to call for the election before Cluvonus is even cold. Dolmant has friends, and they’re going to try to stall things until we get there, but there’s only so much they’ll be able to do. Speed is vital now. When we rejoin the other orders, there’ll be four hundred of us. We’ll be outnumbered, but our presence should be felt. There’s something else, too. Otha’s crossed the border into Lamorkand. He’s not advancing yet, but he’s issuing ultimatums. He’s demanding the return of Bhelliom.’

‘Return? He never had it.’

‘Typical diplomatic flim-flammery, Sparhawk,’ the Earl of Lenda explained. ‘The weaker your position, the bigger the lie you tell.’ The old man pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘We know – or at least we can presume – that there’s an alliance between Otha and Annias, right?’

‘Yes,’ Vanion agreed.

‘Annias knows – or should – that our tactic to counter him will be to play for time. Otha’s move at this point gives the election a certain urgency. Annias will argue that the Church must be united to face the threat. Otha’s presence on the border will terrify the more timid members of the Hierocracy, and they’ll rush to confirm Annias. Then both he and Otha will get what they want. It’s very clever, actually.’

‘Did Otha go so far as to mention Bhelliom by name?’ Sparhawk asked.

Vanion shook his head. ‘He’s accused you of stealing one of the national treasures of Zemoch, that’s all. He left it rather deliberately vague. Too many people know about the significance of Bhelliom. He can’t really come right out and mention it by name.’

‘It’s fitting together more and more tightly,’ Lenda said. ‘Annias will declare that only he knows a way to make Otha withdraw. He’ll stampede the Hierocracy into electing him. Then he’ll wrest Bhelliom from Sparhawk and deliver it to Otha as a part of their bargain.’

‘It’s going to take quite a bit of “wresting”,’ Kalten said bleakly. ‘The militant orders will all fall into line behind Sparhawk.’