The Diamond Throne (43 page)

‘How old a man is the consul?’ Kurik whispered.

‘About fifty.’

‘The one I saw wasn’t him, then. There’s a carved door at the far end. There’s a young fellow about twenty in bed with an older woman.’

‘Did they see you?’

‘No. They were busy.’

‘Oh. The consul’s sleeping alone. He’s down at this end of the hall.’

‘Do you suppose the woman at the other end could be his wife?’

‘That’s their business, isn’t it?’

Together they tiptoed back down to the gilt-painted door. Sparhawk eased it open, and they went inside and crossed the floor to the bed. Sparhawk reached out and took the consul’s shoulder. ‘Your Excellency,’ he said quietly, shaking the man.

The consul’s eyes flew open, then glazed and went blank as Kurik rapped him sharply behind the ear with the hilt of his dagger. They trussed the unconscious man up in a dark blanket and Kurik unceremoniously slung the limp form over his shoulder. ‘is that everything we need here?’ he asked.

‘That’s it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go.’

They crept back down the stairs and into the kitchen again. Sparhawk carefully closed the door leading into the main part of the house. ‘Wait here,’ he breathed to Kurik. ‘Let me check the garden. I’ll whistle if it’s clear.’ He slipped out into the shadowed garden and carefully moved from tree to tree, his eyes alert. He suddenly realized that he was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t had so much pure fun since he and Kalten had been boys and had regularly slipped out of his father’s house in the middle of the night bent on mischief.

He whistled a very poor imitation of a nightingale.

After a moment, he heard Kurik’s hoarse whisper coming from the kitchen door. ‘is that you?’

For an instant, he was tempted to whisper back, ‘No,’ but then he got himself under control again.

They had some difficulty getting the inert body of the consul up the fig tree, but finally managed by main strength. Then they crossed their makeshift bridge and pulled the beams back onto the roof.

‘She’s still there,’ Kurik whispered.

‘Who is?’

The naked lady’

‘It’s her roof.’

They dragged the beams back to the far side of the roof and lowered them again. Then Sparhawk climbed down and caught the consul’s body when Kurik lowered it to him. Kurik joined him a moment later, and they restacked the beams against the wall.

‘All nice and neat,’ Sparhawk said with satisfaction, brushing his hands together.

Kurik hefted the body up onto his shoulder again. ‘Won’t his wife miss him?’ he asked.

‘Not very much, I wouldn’t think – if that was her in the bedroom at the other end of the hall. Why don’t we go back to the monastery?’

They trudged off carrying the body and reached the outskirts of town in about half an hour, dodging several watchmen along the way The consul, draped over Sparhawk’s shoulder, groaned and stirred weakly

Kurik rapped him on the head again.

When they entered the abbot’s study, Kurik unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man on the floor. He and Sparhawk looked at each other for a moment, then they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ the abbot demanded.

‘You should have come along, my Lord,’ Kurik gasped. ‘I haven’t had so much fun in years.’ He began laughing again. ‘The bridge was the best, I think.’

‘I sort of liked the naked lady,’ Sparhawk disagreed.

‘Have you two been drinking?’ the abbot asked suspiciously

‘Not a drop, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s a thought, though, if you’ve got anything handy. Where’s Sephrenia?’

‘I persuaded her that she and the child should get some sleep.’ The abbot paused.
‘What
naked lady?’ he demanded, his eyes afire with curiosity

‘There was a woman up on a roof going through that
fertility ritual,’ Sparhawk told him, still laughing. ‘She sort of distracted Kurik for a moment or two.’

‘Was she pretty?’ The abbot grinned at Kurik.

‘I couldn’t really say, my Lord. I wasn’t looking at her face.’

‘My Lord Abbot,’ Sparhawk said then, a bit more seriously, though he still felt enormously exuberant, ‘we’re going to question Elius as soon as he wakes up. Please don’t be alarmed by some of the things we say to him.’

‘I quite understand, Sparhawk,’ the abbot replied.

‘Good. All right, Kurik, let’s wake up his Excellency here and see what he has to say for himself.’

Kurik stripped the blanket off the consul’s limp body and began pinching the unconscious man’s ears and nose. After a moment, the consul’s eyelids fluttered. Then he groaned and opened his eyes. He stared blankly at them for a moment, then sat up quickly. ‘Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.

Kurik smacked him firmly across the back of the head.

‘You see how it is, Elius,’ Sparhawk said blandly. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Elius, do you? Possibly you may remember me. The name’s Sparhawk.’

‘Sparhawk?’ the consul gasped. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘That’s a highly exaggerated rumour, Elius. Now, the fact of the matter is that you’ve been abducted. We have a number of questions for you. Things will go much more pleasantly for you if you answer them freely. Otherwise, you’re in for a very bad night.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

Kurik hit him again.

‘I’m the consul of the Kingdom of Elenia,’ Elius blustered, trying to cover the back of his head with both hands, ‘and the cousin of the Primate of Cimmura. You can’t do this to me.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘Break a few of his fingers, Kurik,’ he suggested, ‘just to show him that we
can
do this to him.’

Kurik set his foot against the consul’s chest, pushed him back onto the floor, and seized the weakly struggling captive’s right wrist.

‘No!’ Elius squealed. ‘Don’t! I’ll tell you anything you want.’

‘I told you he’d co-operate, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said conversationally to the abbot, pulling off his Rendorish robe to stand revealed in his mail coat and sword belt, ‘just as soon as he understood the seriousness of the situation.’

‘Your methods are direct, Sir Sparhawk,’ the abbot noted.

‘I’m a plain man, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, scratching at one mailed armpit. ‘Subtlety isn’t one of my strong points.’ He nudged the captive with one foot. ‘All right, then, Elius, I’ll make things simple for you. All you have to do at first is confirm a number of statements.’ He drew up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. ‘First of all, your cousin, the Primate of Cimmura, has his eyes on the throne of the Archprelacy, right?’

‘You have no proof of that.’

‘Break his thumb, Kurik.’

Still holding the consul’s wrist in his grip, Kurik prised open the man’s clenched fist and grasped his thumb. ‘In how many places, my Lord?’ he asked politely

‘Do as many as you can, Kurik. Give him something to think about.’

‘No! No! It’s true!’ Elius gasped, his eyes wide with terror.

‘We’re making real progress here,’ Sparhawk observed with a relaxed smile. ‘Now. You’ve had dealings in the past with a white-haired man named Martel. He works for your cousin from time to time. Am I right?’

‘Y-yes,’ Elius faltered.

‘Notice how it gets easier as you go along? In fact it was you who set Martel and his hirelings on me that night about ten years ago, wasn’t it?’

‘It was his idea,’ Elius blurted quickly. ‘I’d received orders from my cousin to co-operate with him. He suggested that I summon you that night. I had no idea that he intended to kill you.’

‘You’re very naïve then, Elius. Lately, a fair number of travellers from the northern kingdoms have been circulating rumours here in Cippria that there’s a groundswell of sympathy for Rendorish aims in those kingdoms. Is Martel in any way connected with that campaign?’

Elius stared at him, his lips pressed fearfully shut.

Slowly, Kurik began to bend his thumb back.

‘Yes! Yes!’ Elius squeaked, arching back in pain.

‘You were almost backsliding there, Elius,’ Sparhawk chided. ‘I’d watch that if I were you. The whole purpose of Martel’s campaign here is to persuade the city dwellers of Rendor to join with the desert nomads in an Eshandist uprising against the Church. Am I right?’

‘Martel doesn’t confide in me all that much, but I suppose that’s his ultimate goal, yes.’

‘And he’s supplying weapons, right?’

‘I’ve heard that he is.’

‘This next one is tricky, Elius, so listen carefully. The real point here is to stir things up so that the Church Knights will have to come here and quiet them down again. Isn’t that so?’

Elius nodded sullenly ‘Martel himself hasn’t said so, but my cousin intimated as much to me in his last letter.’

‘And the uprising is to be timed to coincide with the election of the new Archprelate in the Basilica of Chyrellos?’

‘I really don’t know that, Sir Sparhawk. Please believe
me. You’re probably right, but I can’t really say for certain.’

‘We’ll let that one pass for the moment. Now, I have a burning curiosity Just where is Martel right now?’

‘He’s gone to Dabour to talk with Arasham. The old man’s trying to whip his followers into a frenzy so that they’ll start burning churches and expropriating church lands. Martel was very upset when he heard about it, and he hurried to Dabour to try to head it off.’

‘Probably because it was premature?’

‘I’d imagine as much, yes.’

‘I guess that’s about all then, Elius,’ Sparhawk said benignly ‘I certainly want to thank you for your cooperation tonight.’

‘You’re letting me go?’ the consul asked incredulously.

‘No, I’m afraid not. Martel’s an old friend of mine. I want to surprise him when I get to Dabour, so I can’t risk having you get word to him that I’m coming. There’s a penitent’s cell down in the cellar of this monastery. I’m sure you feel very penitent just now, and I want to give you some time to reflect on your sins. The cell is quite comfortable, I’m told. It has a door, four walls, a ceiling and even a floor.’ He looked at the abbot. ‘It
does
have a floor, doesn’t it, my Lord?’

‘Oh, yes,’ the abbot confirmed, ‘a nice cold stone one.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Elius protested shrilly.

‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik agreed, ‘you really can’t confine a man in a penitent’s cell against his will. It’s a violation of Church law’

‘Oh,’ Sparhawk said pettishly, ‘I suppose you’re right. I did want to avoid all the mess. Go ahead and do it the other way, then.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Kurik said respectfully He drew his dagger. ‘Tell me, my Lord Abbot,’ he said, ‘does your monastery have a graveyard?’

‘Yes, rather a nice one, actually.’

‘Oh, good. I hate just to drag them out into the open countryside and leave them for the jackals.’ He took hold of the consul’s hair and tipped his head back. Then he set the edge of his dagger against the cringing man’s throat. ‘This won’t take a moment, your Excellency,’ he said professionally.

‘My Lord Abbot,’ Elius squealed.

‘I’m afraid it’s altogether out of my hands, your Excellency,’ the abbot said with mock piety. ‘The Church Knights have their own laws. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.’

‘Please, my Lord Abbot,’ Elius pleaded. ‘Confine me to the penitent’s cell.’

‘Do you sincerely repent your sins?’ the abbot asked.

‘Yes! Yes! I am heartily ashamed!’

‘I am afraid, Sir Sparhawk, that I must intercede on this penitent’s behalf,’ the abbot said. ‘I cannot permit you to kill him until he has made his peace with God.’

‘That’s your final decision, my Lord Abbot?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘I’m afraid it is, Sir Sparhawk.’ ‘Oh, all right. Let us know as soon as he’s completed his penance. Then we’ll kill him.’ ‘Of course, Sir Sparhawk.’

After the violently trembling Elius had been taken away by a pair of burly monks, the three men in the room began to laugh.

‘That was rare, my Lord,’ Sparhawk congratulated the abbot. ‘It was exactly the right tone.’

‘I’m not a complete novice at this sort of thing, Sparhawk,’ the abbot said. He looked at the big Pandion shrewdly ‘You Pandions have a reputation for brutality, particularly where questioning captives is concerned.’

‘It seems to me I’ve heard some rumours to that effect, yes,’ Sparhawk admitted.

‘But you don’t really do anything to people, do you?’

‘Not usually, no. It’s the reputation that persuades people to co-operate. Do you have any idea how hard – and messy – it is actually to torture people? We planted those rumours about our order ourselves. After all, why work if you don’t have to?’

‘My feelings exactly, Sparhawk. Now,’ the abbot said eagerly, ‘why don’t you tell me about the naked lady – and the bridge –and anything else you might have run across? Don’t leave anything out. I’m only a poor cloistered monk, and I don’t really get much fun out of life.’

Sparhawk winced and drew his breath in sharply. ‘Sephrenia, do you have to dig straight in?’ he complained.

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she told him, continuing to pick at the sliver in his hand with her needle. ‘If I don’t get it all out, it’s going to fester.’

He sighed and gritted his teeth together as she continued to probe. He looked at Flute, who had both hands across her mouth as if to stifle a giggle.

‘You think it’s funny?’ he asked her crossly.

She lifted her pipes and blew a derisive little trill.

‘I’ve been thinking, Sparhawk,’ the abbot said. ‘If Annias has people in Jiroch the same as he has here in Cippria, wouldn’t it be safer just to go around it and avoid the possibility of being recognized?’

‘I think we’ll have to chance it, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I’ve got a friend in Jiroch I need to talk with before we go upriver.’ He looked down at his black robe. ‘These ought to get us past a casual glance.’

‘I think it’s dangerous, Sparhawk.’

‘Not if we’re careful, I hope.’

Kurik, who had been saddling their horses and loading the pack mule the abbot had given them, came into the room. He was carrying a long, narrow wooden case. ‘Do you really have to take this?’ he asked Sephrenia.

‘Yes, Kurik,’ she replied in a sad voice. ‘I do.’ ‘What’s in it?’