‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she replied in a trembling little voice.
Emban returned to the lectern as Sparhawk and Mirtai went back up into the gallery to rejoin their friends. ‘My brothers,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that Queen Ehlana is recovering. She’s asked me to apologize for anything she may have said during her remarks. The queen’s health is still not good, I’m afraid, and she journeyed here to Chyrellos at great personal risk, so firm was her resolve to be present for our deliberations.’
They murmured their admiration for such devotion.
‘It were best, I think,’ Emban continued, ‘if we were not to question Her Majesty too closely concerning the content of her remarks. It appears that she has no memory of her speech. This can be quite easily explained by her weakened condition. There is perhaps another explanation as well, but I think wisdom and consideration for Her Majesty dictates to us that we not pursue it.’ Of such stuff legends are made.
And then there was a brassy fanfare of trumpets, and the door to the left side of the throne swung open. Dolmant, flanked by Ortzel and Bergsten, entered. The new Archprelate wore a plain white cassock, and his face was calm now. Sparhawk was struck by an odd notion. There were marked similarities between Dolmant’s white cassock and Sephrenia’s white robe. The thought led him to the brink of a speculation that might just have been mildly heretical.
The two Patriarchs, the one from Lamorkand and the other from Thalesia, escorted Dolmant to the throne, which had been unshrouded during their absence, and the Archprelate took his seat.
‘And will Sarathi address us?’ Emban said, stepping from behind the lectern and genuflecting.
‘Sarathi?’ Talen whispered to Berit.
‘It’s a very old name,’ Berit explained quietly. ‘When the Church was finally unified almost three thousand years ago, the very first Archprelate was named Sarathi. His name is remembered – and honoured – by addressing the Archprelate this way.’
Dolmant sat gravely on his gold throne. ‘I have not sought this eminence, my brothers,’ he told them, ‘and I would be far happier had you not seen fit to thrust it upon me. We can only hope – all of us – that this is truly God’s will.’ He raised his face slightly. ‘Now, we have much that needs to be done. I will call upon many of you to aid me, and, as is always the case, there will be changes here in the Basilica. I pray you, my brothers, do not be chagrined or downcast when Church offices are being reassigned, for it has ever been thus when a new Archprelate comes to this throne. Our holy mother faces her gravest challenge in half a millennium. My first act, therefore, must be to confirm the state of Crisis of the Faith, and I decree that this state shall continue until we have met the challenge and prevailed. And now, my brothers and dear friends, let us pray, and then shall we depart and go to our sundry duties.’
‘Nice and short,’ Ulath approved. ‘Sarathi’s getting off to a good start.’
‘Was the queen really in hysterics when she made that speech?’ Kalten curiously asked Sparhawk.
‘Of course she wasn’t,’ Sparhawk snorted. ‘She knew exactly what she was doing every second.’
‘I sort of thought she might have been. I think your marriage is going to be filled with surprises, Sparhawk, but that’s all right. The unexpected always keeps a man on his toes.’
As they were leaving the Basilica, Sparhawk fell back to have a word with Sephrenia. He found her a few feet back down a side passage deep in conversation with a man wearing a monk’s robe. When the man turned, however, Sparhawk saw that he was not an Elene, but rather was a silvery-bearded Styric. The man bowed to the approaching knight. ‘I will leave you now, dear sister,’ he said to Sephrenia in Styric. His voice, deep and rich, belied his evident age.
‘No, Zalasta, stay,’ she said, laying one hand on his arm.
‘I would not offend the Knights of the Church by my presence in their holy place, sister.’
‘Sparhawk takes a bit more offending than the usual Church Knight, my dear friend,’ she smiled.
‘This is the legendary Sir Sparhawk?’ the Styric said with some surprise. ‘I am honoured, Sir Knight.’ He spoke in heavily accented Elene.
‘Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said, ‘this is my oldest and dearest friend, Zalasta. We were children together in the same village.’
‘I am honoured, Sioanda,’ Sparhawk said in Styric, also bowing. Sioanda was a Styric word meaning ‘friend of my friend’.
‘Age has dimmed my eyes it seems,’ Zalasta noted. ‘Now that I look more closely at his face, I can indeed see that this is Sir Sparhawk. The light of his purpose shines all around him.’
‘Zalasta has offered us his aid, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said then. ‘He is very wise and deeply schooled in the secrets.’
‘We would be honoured, learned one,’ Sparhawk said.
Zalasta smiled. ‘I would be of small use on your quest, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said in a slightly self-deprecating way. ‘Were you to encase me in steel, I’m sure I would wither like a flower.’
Sparhawk tapped his breastplate. ‘It’s an Elene affectation, learned one,’ he said, ‘– like pointed hats or brocade doublets. We can only hope that someday steel wardrobes will go out of fashion.’
‘I had always thought Elenes to be a humourless race,’ the Styric noted, ‘but you are droll, Sir Sparhawk. I would be of little use to you in your trek, but at some future time, I may be able to assist you in some other matter of a certain importance.’
‘Trek?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘I know not where you and my sister will go, Sir Knight, but I perceive many leagues hovering about you both. I have come to advise you both to steel your hearts and to be ever watchful. A danger avoided is sometimes preferable to a danger overcome.’ Zalasta looked around. ‘And my presence here is one of those avoidable dangers, I think. You are cosmopolitan, Sir Sparhawk, but I think that perhaps some of your comrades may be less sophisticated.’ He bowed to Sparhawk, kissed Sephrenia’s palms and then glided silently back up the shadowy side-passage.
‘I haven’t seen him in more than a century,’ Sephrenia said. ‘He’s changed – just a little.’
‘Most of us would change in that long a period, little mother,’ Sparhawk smiled, ‘– except you, of course.’