The Sapphire Rose

Since men on horseback make too much noise, the Church Knights moved through the streets on foot. After a time, Sparhawk joined Vanion. ‘All we’re doing here is picking off deserters,’ he advised his Preceptor.

‘Not entirely, Sparhawk,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘The church soldiers have been under siege, and that sort of thing wears down men’s spirits. Let’s give our questionable allies the chance for a little revenge before we turn them back over to the Patriarchs.’

Sparhawk nodded his agreement and then he, Kalten and Kurik moved out to take the lead.

A shadowy figure carrying an axe appeared at a torchlit intersection. The outline showed that whoever it was wore neither armour nor the tunic of a church soldier. Kurik raised his crossbow and took aim. At the last instant, he jerked his weapon upward, and the bolt whizzed up towards the pre-dawn sky. Kurik started to swear sulphurously.

‘What’s the matter?’ Kalten hissed.

‘That’s Berit,’ Kurik said from between clenched teeth. ‘He always rolls his shoulders that way when he walks.’

‘Sir Sparhawk?’ the novice called into the darkness, ‘are you down there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank God. I think I’ve walked down every burned-out alley in Chyrellos looking for you.’

Kurik banged one fist against a wall.

‘Talk to him about it later,’ Sparhawk said. ‘All right, Berit,’ he called, ‘you’ve found me. What’s important enough for you to go around risking your skin to try to share it?’

Berit came down the street to join them. ‘The Rendors appear to be gathering near the west gate, Sir Sparhawk. There are thousands of them.’

‘What are they doing?’

‘I think they’re praying. They’re having some kind of ceremony at any rate. There’s a skinny, bearded fellow standing on a pile of rubble haranguing them.’

‘Could you hear any of what he was saying?’

‘Not very much, Sir Sparhawk, but he did say one word fairly often, and all the rest bellowed out the word each time he said it.’

‘What was the word?’ Kurik demanded.

‘Ramshorn, I think it was, Kurik.’

‘That’s got a familiar ring to it, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘It appears that Martel brought Ulesim along to keep the Rendors in line.’

Berit gave him a puzzled look. ‘Who’s Ulesim, Sir Sparhawk?’

‘The current spiritual leader of the Rendors. There’s a twisted piece of a sheep’s horn that’s a kind of badge of office.’ He thought of something. ‘The Rendors are just sitting around listening to sermons?’ he asked the novice.

‘If that’s what you want to call all that babbling, yes.’

‘Why don’t we go back and talk with Vanion?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘This might be very useful.’

The Preceptors and Sparhawk’s friends were not far behind. ‘I think we’ve just had a bit of luck, My Lords,’ Sparhawk reported. ‘Berit’s been out wandering around in the streets. He says that the Rendors are all gathered near the west gate and that their leader’s whipping them into a frenzy.’

‘You actually let a novice go out there alone, Sir Sparhawk?’ Abriel asked disapprovingly.

‘Kurik’s going to talk to him about that later, My Lord.’

‘What was this leader’s name again?’ Vanion asked thoughtfully.

‘Ulesim, my Lord. I’ve met him. He’s a total idiot.’

‘What would the Rendors do if something happened to him?’

‘They’d disintegrate, My Lord. Martel said that he was going to order them to tear down the bridges. Apparently they haven’t started yet. Rendors need a lot of encouragement and some rather careful directions before they start on anything. Anyway, they look upon their religious leader as a semi-divinity. They won’t do anything without his express command.’

‘That might just be the way to save your bridges, Abriel,’ Vanion said. ‘If something happens to this Ulesim, the Rendors may just forget what they’re supposed to do. Why don’t we gather up our forces and pay them a call?’

‘Bad idea,’ Kurik said shortly. ‘Sorry Lord Vanion, but it really is. If we march on the Rendors in force, they’ll fight to the death to defend their holy man. All we’ll do is get a lot of men needlessly killed.’

‘Do you have an alternative?’

Kurik patted his crossbow. ‘Yes, My Lord,’ he said confidently. ‘Berit says that Ulesim’s making a speech to his people. A man who’s talking to a crowd usually stands up on something. If I can get to within two hundred paces of him –’ Kurik left it hanging.

‘Sparhawk,’ Vanion decided, ‘take your friends and protect Kurik. Try to slip through the city until you can get him and that crossbow close enough to this Ulesim to remove him. If those Rendorish fanatics fly all to pieces and don’t destroy the bridges, Wargun will be able to cross the river before the other mercenaries are ready for them. Mercenaries are the most practical soldiers in the world. They’re not very enthusiastic about hopeless battles.’

‘You think they’ll capitulate?’ Darellon asked.

‘It’s worth a try,’ Vanion said. ‘A peaceful solution of some kind here could save us a lot of men on both sides, and I think we’re going to need every man we can lay our hands on – even the Rendors – when we come up against Otha.’

Abriel suddenly laughed. ‘I wonder how God’s going to feel about having His Church defended by Eshandist heretics?’

‘God’s tolerant,’ Komier grinned. ‘He might even forgive them – a little.’

The four knights, Berit and Kurik crept through the streets of Chyrellos towards the west gate. A faint breeze had come up, and the fog was rapidly dissipating. They reached a large burned-out area near the west gate to find thousands of tightly-packed and heavily armed Rendors gathered in the thinning mist about a heaped-up pile of rubble. Atop the rubble stood a familiar figure.

‘That’s him, all right,’ Sparhawk whispered to his companions as they took refuge in the gutted remains of a house. ‘There he stands in all his glory – Ulesim, most-favoured-disciple-of-holy-Arasham.’

‘What was that?’ Kalten asked.

‘That’s what he called himself down in Rendor. It was a self-bestowed title. I guess he wanted to spare Arasham the effort of selecting somebody.’