Domes of Fire (3 page)

‘Very funny. The group I overheard were all telling each other that he’s returned.’

‘That’d be a neat trick. I gather that his closest friend killed him. Stabbed him in the back and then ran a spear through his heart. You know how Lamorks are.’

‘That’s a strange name,’ Khalad noted. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Drychtnath?’ Kalten scratched his head. ‘“Dreadnought”, I think. Lamork mothers do that sort of thing to their children.’ He drained his cup and tipped his flagon over it. A few drops came out. ‘Are we going to be much longer at this?’ he asked. ‘If we’re going to sit up talking all night, I’ll get more wine. To be honest with you though, Sparhawk, I’d really rather go back to my nice warm bed.’

‘And your nice warm chambermaid?’ Khalad added.

‘She gets lonesome,’ Kalten shrugged. His face grew
serious. ‘If the Lamorks are talking about Drychtnath again, it means that they’re starting to feel a little confined. Drychtnath wanted to rule the world, and any time the Lamorks start invoking his name, it’s a fair indication that they’re beginning to look beyond their borders for elbow room.’

Sparhawk pushed back his plate. ‘It’s too late at night to start worrying about it now. Go back to bed, Kalten. You too, Khalad. We can talk more about this tomorrow. I really ought to go pay a courtesy call on my wife.’ He stood up.

‘That’s all?’ Kalten said. ‘A courtesy call?’

‘There are many forms of courtesy, Kalten.’

The corridors in the palace were dimly illuminated by widely-spaced candles. Sparhawk went quietly past the throne-room to the royal apartments. As usual, Mirtai dozed in a chair beside the door. Sparhawk stopped and considered the Tamul giantess. When her face was in repose, she was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Her skin was golden in the candlelight, and her eyelashes were so long that they touched her cheeks. Her sword lay in her lap with her hand lightly enclosing its hilt.

‘Don’t try to sneak up on me, Sparhawk.’ She said it without opening her eyes.

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘I could smell you. All you Elenes seem to forget that you have noses.’

‘How could you possibly smell me? I just took a bath.’

‘Yes. I noticed that too. You should have taken the time to let the water heat up a little more.’

‘Sometimes you amaze me, do you know that?’

‘You’re easily amazed, Sparhawk.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Where have you been? Ehlana’s been nearly frantic.’

‘How is she?’

‘About the same. Aren’t you ever going to let her
grow up? I’m getting very tired of being owned by a child.’ In Mirtai’s own eyes, she was a slave, the property of the Queen Ehlana. This in no way hindered her in ruling the royal family of Elenia with an iron fist, arbitrarily deciding what was good for them and what was not. She had brusquely dismissed all the queen’s attempts to emancipate her, pointing out that she was an Atan Tamul, and that her race was temperamentally unsuited for freedom. Sparhawk tended strongly to agree with her, since he was fairly certain that if she were left to follow her instincts, Mirtai could depopulate several fair-sized towns in short order.

She stood up, rising to her feet with exquisite grace. She was a good four inches taller than Sparhawk, and he felt again that odd sense of shrinking as he looked up at her. ‘What took you so long?’ she asked him.

‘I had to go to Lamorkand.’

‘Was that your idea? or somebody else’s?’

‘Dolmant sent me.’

‘Make sure Ehlana understands that right from the start. If she thinks you went there on your own, the fight will last for weeks, and all that wrangling gets on my nerves.’ She produced the key to the royal apartment and gave Sparhawk a blunt, direct look. ‘Be
very
attentive, Sparhawk. She’s missed you a great deal, and she needs some tangible evidence of your affection. And don’t forget to bolt the bedroom door. Your daughter might be just a little young to be learning about certain things.’ She unlocked the door.

‘Mirtai, do you
really
have to lock us all in every night?’

‘Yes, I do. I can’t get to sleep until I know that none of you is out wandering around the halls.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he added, ‘Kring was in Chyrellos. I imagine he’ll be along in a few days to propose marriage to you again.’

‘It’s about time,’ she smiled. ‘It’s been three months since his last proposal. I was beginning to think he didn’t love me any more.’

‘Are you ever going to accept him?’

‘We’ll see. Go wake up your wife, Sparhawk. I’ll let you out in the morning.’ She gently pushed him on through the doorway and locked the door behind him.

Sparhawk’s daughter, Princess Danae, was curled up in a large chair by the fire. Danae was six years old now. Her hair was very dark, and her skin as white as milk. Her dark eyes were large, and her mouth a small pink bow. She was quite the little lady, her manner serious and very grown-up. Her constant companion, nonetheless, was a battered and disreputable-looking stuffed toy animal named Rollo. Rollo had descended to Princess Danae from her mother. As usual, Princess Danae’s little feet had greenish grass-stains on them. ‘You’re late, Sparhawk,’ she said flatly to her father.

‘Danae,’ he said to her, ‘you know you’re not supposed to call me by name like that. If your mother hears you, she’s going to start asking questions.’

‘She’s asleep,’ Danae shrugged.

‘Are you really sure about that?’

She gave him a withering look. ‘Of course I am. I’m not going to make any mistakes. I’ve done this many, many times before, you know. Where have you been?’

‘I had to go to Lamorkand.’

‘Didn’t it occur to you to send word to mother? She’s been absolutely unbearable for the last few weeks.’

‘I know. Any number of people have already told me about it. I didn’t really think I’d be gone for so long. I’m glad you’re awake. Maybe you can help me with something.’

‘I’ll consider it – if you’re nice to me.’

‘Stop that. What do you know about Drychtnath?’

‘He was a barbarian, but he was an Elene, after all, so it was probably only natural.’

‘Your prejudices are showing.’

‘Nobody’s perfect. Why this sudden interest in ancient history?’

‘There’s a wild story running through Lamorkand that Drychtnath’s returned. They’re all sitting around sharpening swords with exalted expressions on their faces. What’s the real significance of that?’

‘He was their king several thousand years ago. It was shortly after you Elenes discovered fire and came out of your caves.’

‘Be nice.’

‘Yes, father. Anyway, Drychtnath hammered all the Lamorks into something that sort of resembled unity and then set out to conquer the world. The Lamorks were very impressed with him. He worshipped the old Lamork Gods, though, and your Elene Church was a little uncomfortable with the notion of a pagan sitting on the throne of the whole world, so she had him murdered.’

‘The Church wouldn’t do that,’ he said flatly.

‘Did you want to listen to the story? or did you want to argue theology? After Drychtnath died, the Lamork priests disembowelled a few chickens and fondled their entrails in order to read the future. That’s really a disgusting practice, Sparhawk. It’s so messy.’ She shuddered.

‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t think it up.’

‘The “auguries”, as they called them, said that one day Drychtnath would return to take up where he’d left off and that he’d lead the Lamorks to world domination.’

‘You mean they actually believe that?’

‘They did once.’

‘There are some rumours up there of backsliding – reversion to the worship of the old Pagan Gods.’

‘It’s the sort of thing you’d expect. When a Lamork starts thinking about Drychtnath, he automatically hauls the old Gods out of the closet. It’s so foolish. Aren’t there enough
real
Gods for them?’

‘The old Lamork Gods aren’t real, then?’

‘Of course not. Where’s your mind, Sparhawk?’

‘The Troll-Gods are real. What’s the difference?’

‘There’s all the difference in the world, father. Any child can see that.’

‘Why don’t I just take your word for it? And why don’t you go back to bed?’

‘Because you haven’t kissed me yet.’

‘Oh. Sorry. I had my mind on something else.’

‘Keep your eye on the important things, Sparhawk. Do you want to have me wither away?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then give me a kiss.’

He did that. As always she smelled of grass and trees. ‘Wash your feet,’ he told her.

‘Oh bother,’ she said.

‘Do you want to spend a week explaining those grass-stains to your mother?’

‘That’s all I get?’ she protested. ‘One meagre little kiss and bathing instructions?’

He laughed, picked her up and kissed her again – several times. Then he put her down. ‘Now scoot.’

She pouted a little and then sighed. She started back toward her bedroom, negligently carrying Rollo by one hind leg. ‘Don’t keep mother up all night,’ she said back over her shoulder, ‘and
please
try to be quiet. Why do you two always have to make so much noise?’ She looked impishly back over her shoulder. ‘Why are you blushing, father?’ she asked innocently. Then she
laughed and went on into her own room and closed the door.

He could never be sure if his daughter really understood the implications of such remarks, although he was certain that one level at least of her strangely layered personality understood quite well. He made sure that her door was latched and then went into the bedroom he shared with his wife. He closed and bolted the door behind him.

The fire had burned down to embers, but there was still sufficient light for him to be able to see the young woman who was the focus of his entire life. Her wealth of pale blonde hair covered her pillow, and in sleep she looked very young and vulnerable. He stood at the foot of the bed looking at her. There were still traces of the little girl he had trained and moulded in her face. He sighed. That train of thought always made him melancholy, because it brought home the fact that he was really too old for her. Ehlana should have a young husband – someone less battered, certainly someone handsome. He idly wondered where he had made the mistake that had so welded her affection to him that she had not even considered any other possible choice. It had probably been something minor – insignificant even. Who could ever know what kind of effect even the tiniest gesture might have on another?

‘I know you’re there, Sparhawk,’ she said without even opening her eyes. There was a slight edge to her voice.

‘I was admiring the view.’ A light tone might head off the incipient unpleasantness, though he didn’t really have much hope of that.

She opened her grey eyes. ‘Come over here,’ she commanded, holding her arms out to him.

‘I was ever your Majesty’s most obedient servant.’ He grinned at her, going to the side of the bed.

‘Oh,
really
?’ she replied, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him. He kissed her back, and that went on for quite some time.

‘Do you suppose we could save the scolding until tomorrow morning, love?’ he asked. ‘I’m a little tired tonight. Why don’t we do the kissing and making up now, and you can scold me later?’

‘And lose my edge? Don’t be silly. I’ve been saving up all sorts of things to say to you.’

‘I can imagine. Dolmant sent me to Lamorkand to look into something. It took me a little longer than I expected.’

‘That’s not fair, Sparhawk,’ she accused.

‘I didn’t follow that.’

‘You weren’t supposed to say that yet. You’re supposed to wait until after I’ve demanded an explanation before you give me one. Now you’ve gone and spoiled it.’

‘Can you ever forgive me?’ He assumed an expression of exaggerated contrition and kissed her on the neck. His wife, he had discovered, loved these little games.

She laughed. ‘I’ll think about it.’ She kissed him back. The women of his family were a very demonstrative little group, he decided. ‘All right then,’ she said. ‘You’ve gone and spoiled it anyway, so you might as well tell me what you were doing, and why you didn’t send word that you’d be delayed.’

‘Politics, love. You know Dolmant. Lamorkand is right on the verge of exploding. Sarathi wanted a professional assessment, but he didn’t want it generally known that I was going there at his instruction. He didn’t want any messages explaining things floating around.’

‘I think it’s time for me to have a little talk with our revered Archprelate,’ Ehlana said. ‘He seems to have a little trouble remembering just who I am.’

‘I don’t recommend it, Ehlana.’

‘I’m not going to start a fight with him, my love. I’m just going to point out to him that he’s ignoring the customary courtesies. He’s supposed to
ask
before he commandeers my husband. I’m getting just a little weary of his imperial Archprelacy, so I’m going to teach him some manners.’

‘Can I watch? That might just be a very interesting conversation.’

‘Sparhawk,’ she said, giving him a smouldering look, ‘if you want to avoid an official reprimand, you’re going to have to start taking some significant steps to soften my displeasure.’

‘I was just getting to that,’ he told her, enfolding her in a tighter embrace.

‘What took you so long?’ she breathed.

It was quite a bit later, and the displeasure of the Queen of Elenia seemed to be definitely softening. ‘What did you find out in Lamorkand, Sparhawk?’ she asked, stretching languorously. Politics were never really very far from the queen’s mind.

‘Western Lamorkand’s in turmoil right now. There’s a count up there – Gerrich, his name is. We ran across him when we were searching for Bhelliom. He was involved with Martel in one of those elaborate schemes devised to keep the Militant Orders out of Chyrellos during the election.’

‘That speaks volumes about this count’s character.’

‘Perhaps, but Martel was very good at manipulating people. He stirred up a small war between Gerrich and Patriarch Ortzel’s brother. Anyway, the campaign appears to have broadened the count’s horizons a bit. He’s begun to have some thoughts about the throne.’

‘Poor Freddie,’ Ehlana sighed. King Friedahl of
Lamorkand was her distant cousin. ‘You couldn’t
give
me that throne of his. Why should the Church be concerned, though? Freddie’s got a large enough army to deal with one ambitious count.’