Authors: David Eddings
‘Ah, Emban,’ Monsel said. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Mischief, Monsel. I’ve been out proselytising among the heathens.’
‘Really? Where did you find any here? I thought most heathens lived in the Basilica in Chyrellos. Sit down, gentlemen. I’ll send for some wine and we can debate theology.’
‘You’ve met Sparhawk?’ Emban asked as they all took chairs before an open window where the breeze billowed the black drapes.
‘Briefly,’ Monsel replied. ‘How are you today, your Highness?’
‘Well. And you, your Grace?’
‘Curious, more than anything. Why are we engaging in private consultations?’
‘We’re all clergymen, your Grace,’ Emban pointed out. ‘Sparhawk wears a cassock made of steel most of the time, but he
is
of the clergy. We’ve come to discuss something that probably concerns you as much as it does us. I think I know you well enough to know that you’ve got a practical side that’s not going to get sidetracked by the fact that you think we genuflect wrong.’
‘What’s this?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘We kneel on our right knee,’ Emban shrugged. ‘These poor, benighted heathens kneel on the left.’
‘Shocking,’ Sparhawk murmured. ‘Do you think we should come here in force and compel them to do it right?’
‘You see?’ Emban said to the Archimandrite. ‘That’s exactly what I was talking about. You should fall to your knees and thank God that you’re not saddled with Church Knights, Monsel. I think most of them secretly worship Styric Gods.’
‘Only the Younger Gods, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said mildly. ‘We’ve had our differences with the Elder Gods.’
‘He says it so casually,’ Monsel shuddered. ‘If you think we’ve exhausted the conversational potential of genuflectory variation, Emban, why don’t you get to the point?’
‘This is in strictest confidence, your Grace, but our mission here to Tamuli’s not entirely what it seems. It was Queen Ehlana’s idea, of course. She’s not the sort to go
anywhere
just because somebody tells her to – but all of this elaborate fol-de-rol was just a subterfuge to hide our real purpose, which was to put Sparhawk on the Daresian Continent. The world’s coming apart at the seams, so we’ve decided to let him fix it.’
‘I thought that was God’s job.’
‘God’s busy just now, and He’s got complete confidence in Sparhawk. All sorts of Gods feel that way about him, I understand.’
Monsel’s eyes widened, and his beard bristled.
‘Relax, Monsel,’ Emban told him. ‘We of the Church are not required to believe in other Gods. All we have to do is make a few allowances for their speculative existence.’
‘Oh, that’s different. If this is speculation, I suppose it’s all right.’
‘There’s one thing that
isn’t
speculation, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said. ‘You’ve got trouble here in Astel.’
‘You’ve noticed. Your Highness is very perceptive.’
‘You may not have been advised, since the Tamuls are trying to keep it on a low key, but very similar things are afoot in many other Daresian kingdoms, and we’re beginning to encounter the same sort of problem in Eosia.’
‘I think the Tamuls sometimes keep secrets just for the fun of it,’ Monsel grunted.
‘I have a friend who says the same thing about our Eosian Church,’ Sparhawk said cautiously. They had not yet fully explored the Archimandrite’s political opinions. A wrong word or two here would not only preclude any possibility of obtaining his help, but might even compromise their mission.
‘Knowledge is power,’ Emban said rather sententiously, ‘and only a fool shares power if he doesn’t have to. Let me be blunt, Monsel. What’s your opinion of the Tamuls?’
‘I don’t like them.’ Monsel’s response was to the point. ‘They’re heathens, they’re members of an alien race, and you can’t tell what they’re thinking.’
Sparhawk’s heart sank.
‘I have to admit, though, that when they absorbed Astel into their empire, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. Whether we like them or not is beside the point. Their passion for order and stability has averted war time and time again in my own lifetime.
There have been other empires in ages past, and their time of ascendancy was a time of unmitigated horror and suffering. I think we’ll candidly have to admit that the Tamuls are history’s finest imperialists. They don’t interfere with local customs or religions. They don’t disrupt the social structure, and they function
through
the established governments. Their taxes, however much we complain about them, are really minimal. They build good roads and encourage trade. Aside from that, they generally leave us alone. About all they really insist upon is that we don’t go to war with each other. I can live with that – although some of my predecessors felt dreadfully abused because the Tamuls wouldn’t let them convert their neighbours by the sword.’
Sparhawk breathed a little easier.
‘But I’m straying from the point here,’ Monsel said. ‘You were suggesting a world-wide conspiracy of some kind, I think.’
‘Were we suggesting that, Sparhawk?’ Emban asked.
‘I suppose we were, your Grace.’
‘Do you have anything concrete upon which to base this theory, Sir Sparhawk?’ Monsel asked.
‘Logic is about all, your Grace.’
‘I’ll listen to logic – as long as she doesn’t contradict my beliefs.’
‘If a series of events happens in one place and it’s identical to a series of events taking place in another, we’re justified in considering the possibility of a common source, wouldn’t you say?’
‘On an interim basis, perhaps.’
‘It’s about all we have to work with at the moment, your Grace. The same sort of thing could happen at the same time in two different places and still be a coincidence, but when you get up to five or ten different occurrences, coincidence sort of goes out the window. This current upheaval involving Ayachin and the one
they call Sabre here in Astel is almost exactly duplicated in the kingdom of Lamorkand in Eosia, and Ambassador Oscagne assures us that the same sort of thing’s erupting in other Daresian kingdoms as well. It’s always the same. First there are the rumours that some towering hero of antiquity has somehow returned. Then some firebrand emerges to keep things stirred up. Here in Astel, you’ve got the wild stories about Ayachin. In Lamorkand, they talk about Drychtnath. Here you have a man named Sabre, and in Lamorkand they’ve got one named Gerrich. I’m fairly sure we’ll find the same sort of thing in Edom, Daconia, Arjuna and Cynesga. Oscagne tells us that
their
national heroes are putting in an appearance as well.’ Sparhawk rather carefully avoided mentioning Krager. He was still not entirely certain where Monsel’s sympathies lay.
‘You build a good case, Sparhawk,’ Monsel conceded. ‘But couldn’t this master plot be directed at the Tamuls? They aren’t widely loved, you know.’
‘I think your Grace is overlooking Lamorkand,’ Emban said. ‘There aren’t any Tamuls there. I’m guessing, but I’d say that the master plot – if that’s what we want to call it – is directed at the
Church
in Eosia as opposed to the empire here.’
‘Organised anarchy perhaps?’
‘I believe that’s a contradiction in terms, your Grace,’ Sparhawk pointed out. ‘I’m not sure that we’re far enough along to deal with causes yet, though. Right now we’re trying to sort through effects. If we’re correct in assuming that this plot is all coming from the same person, then what we’re seeing is someone who’s got a basic plan with common elements which he modifies to fit each particular culture. What we really want to do is to identify this Sabre fellow.’
‘So that you can have him killed?’ Monsel’s tone was accusing.
‘No, your Grace, that wouldn’t be practical. If we kill him, he’ll be replaced by someone else – somebody we don’t know. I want to know
who
he is, and
what
he is and everything I can possibly find out about him. I want to know how he thinks, what drives him and what his personal motivations are. If I know all of that, I can neutralise him
without
killing him. To be completely honest with you, I don’t really care about Sabre. I want the one who’s behind him.’
Monsel seemed shaken. ‘This is a dreadful man, Emban,’ he said in a hushed tone.
‘Implacable is the word, I think.’
‘If we can believe Oscagne – and I think we can – someone’s using the arcane arts in this business,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘That’s why the Church Knights were created originally. It’s
our
business to deal with magic. Our Elene religion can’t cope with it because there’s no place in our faith for it. We had to go outside the faith – to the Styrics – to learn how to counteract magic. It opened some doors we might have preferred had been left closed, but that’s the price we had to pay.
Somebody
– or
something
– on the other side’s using magic of a very high order. I’m here to stop him – to kill him if need be. Once he’s gone, the Atans can deal with Sabre. I know an Atan, and if her people are at all like her, I know we can count on them to be thorough.’
‘You trouble me, Sparhawk,’ Monsel admitted. ‘Your devotion to your duty’s almost inhuman, and your resolve goes even beyond that. You shame me, Sparhawk.’ He sighed and sat tugging at his beard, his eyes lost in thought. Finally, he straightened. ‘All right, Emban, can we suspend the rules?’
‘I didn’t quite follow that.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell you this,’ the Archimandrite said, ‘first of all because it’ll probably raise your doctrinal hackles, but more importantly because I didn’t really
want to share it with you. This implacable Sparhawk of yours has convinced me otherwise. If I don’t tell you what I know, he’ll dismantle Astel and everyone in it to get the information, won’t you, Sparhawk?’
‘I’d really hate that, your Grace.’
‘But you’d do it anyway, wouldn’t you?’
‘If I had to.’
Monsel shuddered. ‘You’re both churchmen, so I’m going to invoke the rule of clerical confidentiality. You haven’t changed the requirements of
that
in Chyrellos yet, have you, Emban?’
‘Not unless Sarathi did it since I’ve been gone. At any rate, you have our word that neither of us will reveal anything you tell us.’
‘Except to another clergyman,’ Monsel amended. ‘I’ll go that far.’
‘All right,’ Emban agreed.
Monsel leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. ‘The Tamuls have no real conception of how powerful the Church is in the Elene kingdoms here in Western Daresia,’ he began. ‘In the first place, their religion’s hardly more than a set of ceremonies. Tamuls don’t even think about religion, so they can’t understand the depth of the faith in the hearts of the devout – and the serfs of Astel are quite likely the most devout people on earth. They take all of their problems to their priests – and not only their own problems, but their neighbours’ as well. The serfs are everywhere and they see everything, and they tell their priests.’
‘I think it was called tale-bearing when I was in the seminary,’ Emban noted.
‘We had a worse name for it during our novitiate,’ Sparhawk added. ‘All sorts of unpleasant accidents used to happen on the training-field because of it.’
‘Nobody likes a snitch,’ Monsel agreed, ‘but like it or not, the Astellian clergy knows everything that happens
in the kingdom – literally everything. We’re sworn to keep these secrets, of course, but we feel that our primary responsibility is to the spiritual health of our flock. Since a large proportion of our priests were originally serfs, they simply don’t have the theological training to deal with complex spiritual problems. We’ve devised a way to provide them with the advice they need. The serf-priests do not reveal the names of those who have come to them, but they
do
take serious matters to their superiors, and their superiors bring those matters to
me.’
‘I have no real difficulty with that,’ Emban said. ‘As long as the names are kept secret, the confidentiality hasn’t been violated.’
‘We’ll get on well together, Emban.’ Monsel smiled briefly. ‘The serfs look upon Sabre as a liberator.’
‘So we gathered,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘There seems to be a certain lack of consistency in his speeches, though. He tells the nobles that Ayachin wants to throw off the Tamul yoke, and then he tells the serfs that Ayachin’s real goal is the abolition of serfdom. Moreover, he’s persuaded the nobles to become very brutal in their dealings with the serfs. That’s not only disgusting, it’s irrational. The nobles should be trying to
enlist
the serfs, not alienate them. Viewed realistically, Sabre’s no more than an agitator, and he’s not even particularly subtle. He’s a political adolescent.’
‘That’s going a little far, Sparhawk,’ Emban protested. ‘How do you account for his success then? An idiot like that could never persuade the Astels to accept his word.’
‘They’re not accepting
his
word. They’re accepting Ayachin’s.’
‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Sparhawk?’
‘No, your Grace. I mentioned before that someone on the other side’s been using magic.
This
is what I was talking about. The people here have actually been seeing Ayachin himself.’
‘That’s absurd!’ Monsel seemed profoundly disturbed.
Sparhawk sighed. ‘For the sake of your Grace’s theological comfort, let’s call it some kind of hallucination – a mass illusion created by a clever charlatan, or some accomplice dressed in archaic clothing who appears suddenly in some spectacular fashion. Whatever its source, if what’s happening here is anything like what’s happening in Lamorkand, your people are absolutely convinced that Ayachin’s returned from the grave. Sabre probably makes a speech – a rambling collection of disconnected platitudes – and then this hallucination appears in a flash of light and a clap of thunder and confirms all his pronouncements. That’s a guess, of course, but it’s probably not too far off the mark.’
‘It’s an elaborate hoax then?’
‘If that’s what you want to believe, your Grace.’
‘But you
don’t
believe it’s a hoax, do you Sparhawk?’
‘I’ve been trained not to actively disbelieve things, your Grace. Whether the apparition of Ayachin is real or some trick is beside the point. It’s what the people believe that’s important, and I’m sure
they
believe that Ayachin’s returned and that Sabre speaks for him. That’s what makes Sabre so dangerous. With the apparition to support him, he can make people believe anything. That’s why I have to find out everything about him that I can. I have to be able to know what he’s going to do so that I can counter him.’