‘Would you like to examine that last sentence for logical consistency, Stragen?’ Vanion asked with an amused expression.
‘Consistency’s the mark of a little mind, my Lord,’ Stragen replied loftily. ‘Why do you ask, Aphrael?’
‘You don’t really belong to any God, then, do you?’
‘No, not really.’
Sephrenia started to say something, but Aphrael raised one little hand to cut her off. ‘You might want to look into the advantages of coming to serve me,’ the Child Goddess suggested. ‘I can do all sorts of wonderful things for you.’
‘You’re not supposed to do this, Aphrael!’ Sephrenia protested.
‘Hush, Sephrenia. This is between Stragen and me. I think that maybe it’s time for me to broaden my horizons. Styrics are very, very nice, but sometimes Elenes are more fun. Besides, Stragen and I are both thieves. We’ve got a lot in common.’ She grinned at the blond man. ‘Think it over, Milord. I’m not at all difficult to serve. A few kisses and a bouquet of flowers now and then and I’m perfectly happy.’
‘She’s lying to you,’ Sparhawk warned. ‘Enlisting in the service of Aphrael is volunteering for the profoundest slavery you could possibly imagine.’
‘Well…’ the Child Goddess said deprecatingly, ‘I suppose it is, when you get right down to it – but as long as we’re all having fun, what difference does it make?’
Chapter 26
It was quite early, several hours before dawn, Sparhawk judged, when Mirtai entered the royal bedroom – as usual without knocking. ‘You’d better get up,’ the golden giantess announced. Mirtai could be very blunt when the occasion demanded it.
Sparhawk sat up. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘There’s a fleet of boats coming toward the city,’ she replied. ‘Either that, or the Delphae have learned how to walk on water. There are enough lanterns on the eastern horizon to light up a small city. Put your clothes on, Sparhawk. I’ll go wake the others.’ She turned abruptly and left the room.
‘I wish she’d learn to knock,’ Sparhawk muttered, throwing off the covers.
‘You’re the one who’s supposed to make sure that the doors are locked,’ Ehlana reminded him. ‘Do you think it might be trouble?’
‘I don’t know. Did Sarabian say anything about expecting a fleet?’
‘He didn’t mention it to me,’ she replied, also rising from their bed.
‘I’d better go have a look.’ He picked up his cloak. ‘There’s no need for you to go outside, dear,’ he told her. ‘It’s chilly up on the parapet.’
‘No. I want to see for myself.’
They went out of the bedroom. Princess Danae came out of her room in her nightdress, rubbing her eyes with one hand and dragging Rollo behind her. Mutely she went to Sparhawk, and he picked her up without even thinking.
The three of them went into the hallway and up the stairs toward the top of the tower.
Kalten and Sarabian were standing on the east side of the tower looking out across the battlements at the lights strung out along the eastern horizon.
‘Any idea of who they might be?’ Sparhawk asked as he and his family joined them.
‘Not a clue,’ Kalten replied.
‘Could it be the Tamul navy?’ Ehlana asked the Emperor.
‘It could be, I suppose,’ he replied, ‘but if it is, they’re not responding to any orders I sent out.’
Sparhawk stepped back a few paces. ‘Who do the ships belong to?’ he murmured to his daughter.
‘I ain’t a-tellin’, dorlin’,’ she replied with a little smirk.
‘Stop that. I want to know who’s coming.’
‘You’ll find out…’ She squinted out toward the lights on the horizons. ‘In a couple of hours, I’d imagine.’
‘I want to know who they are,’ he insisted.
‘Yes, I can see that, but wanting isn’t getting, father, and I ain’t a-gonna tell ya.’
‘Oh, God,’ he groaned.
‘Yes?’ she responded innocently. ‘Was there something?’
The dawn came up rusty that morning. There was no hint of a breeze, and the smoke from the chimneys of fire-domed Matherion hung motionless in the air, blurring the light from the east. Sparhawk and the other knights roused the Atan garrison, put on their armor, and rode down to the harbor.
The approaching ships were clearly of Cammorian construction, but they had been altered. Banks of oars had been added along their sides.
‘Somebody was in a hurry to get here,’ Ulath noted. ‘A Cammorian ship with a good following wind can make thirty leagues a day. If you added oars to that, you could increase it to fifty.’
‘How many ships are there?’ Kalten asked, squinting at the approaching fleet.
‘I make it close to a hundred,’ the big Thalesian replied.
‘You could carry a lot of men on a hundred ships,’ Sarabian said.
‘Enough to make me nervous, your Majesty,’ Vanion agreed.
Then, as the ships entered the harbor, the red and gold standards of the Church were run up on the masts, and as the lead vessel came closer, Sparhawk could make out two familiar figures standing in the bow. The one man had broad shoulders and a massive chest. His round face was split with a delighted grin. The other was short and very stout. He was also grinning.
‘What kept you?’ Ulath shouted across the intervening water.
‘Class distinctions,’ Tynian shouted back. ‘Knights are defined as gentlemen, and they objected to being pressed into service as oarsmen.’
‘You’ve got knights manning the oars?’ Vanion called incredulously.
‘It’s a part of a new physical conditioning program, Lord Vanion,’ Patriarch Emban shouted. ‘Archprelate Dolmant noticed that the Soldiers of God were getting a little flabby. They’re much more fit now than they were when we left Sarinium.’
The ship approached the wharf carefully, and the seamen threw the mooring hawsers to the knights ashore.
Tynian leaped across. Emban gave him a disgusted look and waddled back amidships to wait for the sailors to extend the gangway.
‘How’s the shoulder?’ Ulath asked the broad-faced Deiran.
‘Much better,’ Tynian replied. ‘It aches when the weather’s damp, though.’ He saluted Vanion. ‘Komier, Darellon and Abriel are leading the Church Knights east from Chyrellos, my Lord,’ he reported. ‘Patriarch Bergsten’s with them. Patriarch Emban and I came on ahead by ship – obviously. We thought a few more knights here in Matherion might be useful.’
‘Indeed they will, Sir Tynian. How many do you have with you?’
‘Five thousand, my Lord.’
‘That’s impossible, Tynian. There’s no way you could crowd that many men and horses on a hundred ships.’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Tynian replied mildly, ‘we noticed that ourselves almost immediately. The knights were terribly disappointed when they found out that we weren’t going to let them bring their horses with them.’
‘Tynian,’ Kalten objected, ‘they have to have horses. A knight without his horse is meaningless.’
‘There are already horses here, Kalten. Why bring more?’
‘Tamul horses aren’t trained.’
‘Then we’ll just have to train them, won’t we? I had a hundred ships. I could have brought fifteen hundred knights along with their horses, or five thousand without the horses. Call the extra thirty-five hundred a gift.’
‘How were you able to make them row?’ Ulath asked.
‘We used whips.’ Tynian shrugged. ‘There’s a Captain Sorgi who plies the inner sea, and the oars were his idea.’
‘Good old Sorgi,’ Sparhawk laughed.
‘You know him?’
‘Quite well, actually.’
‘You’ll be able to renew your friendship. His ship’s out there with the fleet. We’d have sailed aboard his ship, but Patriarch Emban didn’t like the looks of it. It’s all patched and rickety.’
‘It’s old. I think Sorgi has a secret bet with himself about which of them falls apart first – him or his ship.’
‘His mind’s still sharp, though. When we asked him how to get more speed out of the ships, he suggested adding oars to the sails. It’s very seldom done that way because of the expense of paying the oarsmen – not to mention the fact that they take up room usually reserved for cargo. I decided not to bring any cargo, and Church Knights are sworn to poverty, so I didn’t have to pay them. It worked out fairly well, actually.’
They gathered in Ehlana’s sitting room several hours later to hear Emban and Tynian report on what was happening in Eosia.
‘Ortzel quite nearly had apoplexy when Dolmant pulled all the knights out of Rendor,’ Emban told them. He leaned back in his chair with a silver tankard in his pudgy hand. ‘Ortzel really has his heart set on returning the Rendors to the bosom of our Holy Mother. Dolmant seemed inclined to agree with him right at first, but he woke up one morning with a completely different outlook. Nobody’s been able to explain his sudden change of heart.’
‘He received a message, Emban,’ Sephrenia smiled. ‘The messenger can be very impressive when he wants to be.’
‘Oh?’
‘An emergency came up, your Grace,’ Vanion explained. ‘Zalasta had sent word to his confederates in Eosia, and they began killing the worshipers of the Child Goddess, Aphrael. That put her life in danger as well. We spoke with one of the other Younger Gods – Setras. He agreed that the other Younger Gods would lend Aphrael some of their children, and he went to Chyrellos to ask Dolmant to offer sanctuary to Aphrael’s surviving worshipers. He was also going to try to persuade Dolmant to send the Church Knights here. Evidently he was a bit more convincing than you and Tynian were.’
‘Are you saying that a Styric God went into the Basilica?’ Emban exclaimed.
‘He said that’s what he was going to do,’ Sparhawk replied, shifting his daughter in his lap.
‘No Styric God has ever gone into the Basilica!’
‘He’s wrong,’ Princess Danae whispered into her father’s ear. ‘I’ve been there dozens of times.’
‘I know,’ Sparhawk whispered back. ‘Setras paid a formal visit, though.’ He thought of something. ‘Setras went to Chyrellos just a short time ago,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Even with oarsmen to help, Tynian’s fleet couldn’t have reached Matherion this fast. Have you been tampering again?’
‘Would I do that?’ Her eyes were wide and innocent.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, you probably would.’
‘If you already knew the answer, why did you ask the question? Don’t waste my time, Sparhawk. I am very busy, you know.’
‘Things seem to be coming to a head in Lamorkand,’ Tynian continued his report. ‘Count Gerrich’s forces have taken Vraden and Agnak in northern Lamorkand, and King Friedahl’s been appealing to the other monarchs for assistance.’
‘We’ll be taking care of that shortly, Sir Tynian,’ Stragen told him. ‘I’ve been in touch with Platime, and he’s arranging fatal accidents for Gerrich and the various barons who’ve been helping him.’
The door opened, and Berit entered with Xanetia.
‘What did you find out, Anarae?’ Sephrenia asked intently.
‘This morning’s sortie was quite profitable, little mother,’ Berit advised her. ‘Zalasta’s friend Ynak showed up at the Cynesgan embassy, and the Anarae was able to probe his mind. I think we’ve got most of the details of their plan now.’
‘Is this the lady with the rare gift?’ Emban asked.
‘I seem to be forgetting my manners,’ Vanion apologized. ‘Anarae Xanetia, this is Sir Tynian of Deira and Patriarch Emban of the Church of Chyrellos. Gentlemen, this is Xanetia, the Anarae of the People of Delphaeus.’
Tynian and Emban bowed, their eyes curious.
‘What have our friends at the embassy been up to, Anarae?’ Sarabian asked.
‘Though it was not pleasant to probe so vile a mind, Ynak’s thought did reveal much, Majesty,’ she replied. ‘As we had surmised, the outcast Styrics at Verel have long known that the greatest threat to their design would come from Eosia. They wished Anakha to come to Tamuli, but they did not wish for him to bring a hundred thousand Church Knights with him. The turmoil in western Tamuli is in fact intended to block the passage of the knights. All else is extraneous. Moreover, the attacks of the Trolls in Atan are also designed to divert attention. Our peril doth not approach from the west or from the north. It is from the south that our enemies plan to make their main assault. Even now do Cynesgan troops filter across the unguarded frontier to join with Scarpa’s forces in the jungles of Arjuna, and Elenes from western Tamuli, moreover, do journey by ship to southern Arjuna to add their weight to Scarpa’s growing horde. The distractions in the west and in Atan were to drain away imperial might and to weaken Tamul proper, thus opening a path for Scarpa to strike directly across Tamul and to lay siege to Matherion itself. Ynak and the others were much chagrined by the exposure of Zalasta’s treachery, for it voided his opportunity to do us harm by misdirection and false counsel.’
‘What’s the real goal of a siege of Matherion, Lady Xanetia?’ Emban asked shrewdly. ‘It’s a nice enough city, but…’ He spread his hands.
‘Our enemies thought to compel the imperial government to surrender up Anakha by posing a threat to Matherion itself, your Grace. The subversion of diverse ministers and officials gave them hope that the Prime Minister might be persuaded to capitulate so that Matherion might be spared.’
‘That might have worked,’ Sarabian noted. ‘Pondia Subat’s backbone isn’t really very rigid. Zalasta and his four friends plan things quite well.’
‘Three friends now, your Majesty,’ Berit grinned. ‘The Anarae tells me that the one named Ptaga came a cropper a few days ago.’
‘The vampire-raiser?’ Kalten said. ‘What happened to him?’
‘May I tell them, Anarae?’ Berit asked politely.
‘An it please thee, Sir Knight.’
‘It seems that Ptaga was in southern Tamul proper – in those mountains between Sarna and Samar. He was waving his arms and creating the illusion of Shining Ones to turn loose on the populace. One of the real Delphae was out scouting the area and came across him and quietly joined the crowd of illusions.’ Berit grinned a nasty little grin.