Domes of Fire (4 page)

‘It’s not quite so simple, love. Gerrich has been concluding alliances with other nobles in western Lamorkand. He’s amassed an army nearly as big as the king’s, and he’s been talking with the Pelosian barons around Lake Venne.’

‘Those bandits,’ she said with a certain contempt. ‘
Anybody
can buy them.’

‘You’re well-versed in the politics of the region, Ehlana.’

‘I almost have to be, Sparhawk. Pelosia fronts my northeastern border. Does this current disturbance threaten us in any way?’

‘Not at the moment. Gerrich has his eyes turned eastward – toward the capital.’

‘Maybe I should offer Freddie an alliance,’ she mused. ‘If general war breaks out in the region, I could snip off a nice piece of southwestern Pelosia.’

‘Are we developing territorial ambitions, your Majesty?’

‘Not tonight, Sparhawk,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got other things on my mind tonight.’ And she reached out to him again.

It was quite a bit later, almost dawn. Ehlana’s regular breathing told Sparhawk that she was asleep. He slipped from the bed and went to the window. His years of military training made it automatic for him to take a look at the weather just before daybreak.

The rain had abated, but the wind had picked up. It was early spring now, and there was little hope for decent weather for weeks. He was glad that he had reached home when he had, since the approaching day
looked unpromising. He stared out at the torches flaring and tossing in the windy courtyard.

As they always did when the weather was bad, Sparhawk’s thoughts drifted back to the years he had spent in the sun-blasted city of Jiroch on the arid north coast of Rendor where the women, all veiled and robed in black, went to the well in the steely first light of day and where the woman named Lillas had consumed his nights with what she chose to call love. He did not, however, remember that night in Cippria when Martel’s assassins had quite nearly spilled out his life. He had settled that score with Martel in the Temple of Azash in Zemoch, so there was no real purpose in remembering the stockyard of Cippria nor the sound of the monastery bells which had called to him out of the darkness.

That momentary sense of being watched, the sense that had come over him in the narrow street while he had been on his way to the palace still nagged at him. Something he did not understand was going on, and he fervently wished that he could talk with Sephrenia about it.

‘Your Majesty,’ the Earl of Lenda protested, ‘you can’t address this kind of language to the Archprelate.’ Lenda was staring with chagrin at the piece of paper the queen had just handed him. ‘You’ve done everything but accuse him of being a thief and a scoundrel.’

‘Oh, did I leave those out?’ she asked. ‘How careless of me.’ They were meeting in the blue-carpeted council chamber as they usually did at this time of the morning.

‘Can’t you do something with her, Sparhawk?’ Lenda pleaded.

‘Oh, Lenda,’ Ehlana laughed, smiling at the frail old man, ‘that’s only a draft. I was a little irritated when I scribbled it down.’

‘A
little
?’

‘I know we can’t send the letter in its present form, my Lord. I just wanted you to know how I really felt about the matter before we rephrase it and couch it in diplomatic language. My whole point is that Dolmant’s beginning to overstep his bounds. He’s the Archprelate, not the emperor. The Church has too much authority over temporal affairs already, and, if someone doesn’t bring Dolmant up short, every monarch in Eosia will become little more than his vassal. I’m sorry gentlemen. I’m a true daughter of the Church, but I
won’t
kneel to Dolmant and receive my crown back from him in some contrived little ceremony that has no purpose other than my humiliation.’

Sparhawk was a bit surprised at his wife’s political maturity. The power structure on the Eosian Continent had always depended on a rather delicate balance
between the authority of the Church and the power of the various kings. When that balance was disturbed, things went awry. ‘Her Majesty’s point may be welltaken, Lenda,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The Eosian monarchies haven’t been very strong for the last generation or so. Aldreas was –’ He groped for a word.

‘Inept,’ his wife coolly characterised her own father.

‘I might not have gone quite
that
far,’ he murmured. ‘Wargun’s erratic, Soros is a religious hysteric, Obler’s old, and Friedahl reigns only at the sufferance of his barons. Dregos lets his relatives make all his decisions, King Brisant of Cammoria is a voluptuary and I don’t even know the name of the current King of Rendor.’

‘Ogyrin,’ Kalten supplied, ‘not that it really matters.’

‘Anyway,’ Sparhawk continued, sinking lower in his chair and rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully, ‘during this same period of time, we’ve had a number of very able churchmen in the Hierocracy. The incapacity of Cluvonus sort of encouraged the patriarchs to strike out on their own. If you had a vacant throne someplace, you could do a lot worse than put Emban on it – or Ortzel – or Bergsten, and even Annias had a very high degree of political skill. When kings grow weak, the Church grows strong – too strong sometimes.’

‘Spit it out, Sparhawk,’ Platime growled. ‘Are you trying to say we should declare war on the Church?’

‘Not today, Platime. We might want to keep the idea in reserve, though. Right now I think it’s time to start sending some signals to Chyrellos, and our queen may be just the one to send them. After the way she stampeded the Hierocracy during Dolmant’s election, I think they’ll listen very carefully to just about anything she says. I don’t know that I’d soften her letter all
that
much, Lenda. Let’s see if we can get their attention.’

Lenda’s eyes were very bright. ‘
This
is the way the
game’s supposed to be played, my friends,’ he said enthusiastically.

‘You
do
realise that it’s altogether possible that Dolmant didn’t realise that he was stepping over the line,’ Kalten noted. ‘Maybe he sent Sparhawk to Lamorkand as the interim preceptor of the Pandion Order and completely overlooked the fact that he’s also the prince consort. Sarathi’s got a lot on his mind just now.’

‘If he’s
that
absent-minded, he’s got no business occupying the Archprelate’s throne,’ Ehlana asserted. Her eyes narrowed, always a dangerous sign. ‘Let’s make it very clear to him that he’s hurt my feelings. He’ll go out of his way to smooth things over, and maybe I can take advantage of that to retrieve that Duchy just north of Vardenaise. Lenda, is there any way we can keep people from bequeathing their estates to the Church?’

‘It’s a long-standing custom, your Majesty.’

‘I know, but the land originally comes from the crown. Shouldn’t we have
some
say in who inherits it? You’d think that if a nobleman dies without an heir, the estate would revert back to me, but every time there’s a childless noble in Elenia, the churchmen flock around him like vultures trying to talk him into giving
them
the land.’

‘Jerk some titles,’ Platime suggested. ‘Make it a law that if a man doesn’t have an heir, he doesn’t keep his estate.’

‘The aristocracy would go up in flames,’ Lenda gasped.

‘That’s what the army’s for,’ Platime shrugged, ‘to put out fires. I’ll tell you what, Ehlana, you pass the law, and I’ll arrange a few very public and very messy accidents for the ones who scream the loudest. Aristocrats aren’t very bright, but they’ll get the point – eventually.’

‘Do you think I could get away with that?’ Ehlana asked the Earl of Lenda.

‘
Surely
your Majesty’s not seriously considering it?’

‘I have to do
something
Lenda. The Church is eating up my kingdom acre by acre, and once she takes possession of an estate, the land’s removed from the tax rolls forever.’ She paused. ‘This could just be a way to do what Sparhawk suggested – get the Church’s attention. Why don’t we draw up a draft of some outrageously repressive law and just “accidentally” let a copy fall into the hands of some middle-level clergyman. It’s probably safe to say that it’ll be in Dolmant’s hands before the ink’s dry.’

‘That’s really unscrupulous, my Queen,’ Lenda told her.

‘I’m so glad you approve, my Lord.’ She looked around. ‘Have we got anything else this morning, gentlemen?’

‘You’ve got some unauthorised bandits operating in the mountains near Cardos, Ehlana,’ Platime rumbled. The gross, black-bearded man sat with his feet upon the table. There was a wine flagon and goblet at his elbow. His doublet was wrinkled and food-spotted, and his shaggy hair hung down over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. Platime was constitutionally incapable of using formal titles, but the queen chose to overlook that.

‘Unauthorised?’ Kalten sounded amused.

‘You know what I mean,’ Platime growled. ‘They don’t have permission from the thieves’ council to operate in that region, and they’re breaking all the rules. I’m not positive, but I think they’re some of the former henchmen of the Primate of Cimmura. You blundered there, Ehlana. You should have waited until you had them in custody before you declared them outlaws.’

‘Oh well,’ she shrugged. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ Ehlana’s relationship with Platime was peculiar. She realised that he was unable to mouth the polite formulas of the nobility, and so she accepted a bluntness from him that would have offended her had it come from anyone else.
For all his faults, Platime was turning into a gifted, almost brilliant counsellor, and Ehlana valued his advice greatly. ‘I’m not surprised to find out that Annias’ old cronies have turned to highway robbery in their hour of need. They were all bandits to begin with anyway. There have always been outlaws in those mountains, though, so I doubt that another band will make all that much difference.’

‘Ehlana,’ he sighed, ‘you’re the same as my very own baby sister, but sometimes you’re terribly ignorant. An authorised bandit knows the rules. He knows which travellers can be robbed or killed and which ones have to be left alone. Nobody gets too excited if some overstuffed merchant gets his throat cut and his purse lifted, but if a government official or a high-ranking nobleman turns up dead in those mountains, the authorities have to take steps to at least make it
appear
that they’re doing their jobs. That sort of official attention is very bad for business. Perfectly innocent criminals get rounded up and hanged. Highway robbery’s not an occupation for amateurs. And there’s another problem as well. These bandits are telling all the local peasantry that they’re not really robbers, but patriots rebelling against a cruel tyrant – that’s you, little sister. There’s always enough discontent among the peasants to make some of them sympathetic toward that sort of thing. You aristocrats haven’t any business getting involved in crime. You always try to mix politics in with it.’

‘But my dear Platime,’ she said winsomely, ‘I thought you knew. Politics
is
a crime.’

The fat man roared with laughter. ‘I love this girl,’ he told the others. ‘Don’t worry too much about it, Ehlana. I’ll try to get some men inside their band, and when Stragen gets back, we’ll put our heads together and work out some way to put those people out of business.’

‘I knew I could count on you,’ she said. She rose to
her feet. ‘If that’s all we have, gentlemen, I have an appointment with my dressmaker.’ She looked around. ‘Coming, Sparhawk?’

‘In a moment,’ he replied. ‘I want to have a word with Platime.’

She nodded and moved toward the door.

‘What’s on your mind, Sparhawk?’ Platime asked.

‘I saw Naween last night when I rode into town. She’s working the streets.’

‘Naween? That’s ridiculous! Half the time she even forgets to take the money.’

‘That’s what I told her. She and Shanda had a fallingout, and she was standing on a street corner near the east gate. I sent her to an inn to get her out of the weather. Can we make some kind of arrangement for her?’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Platime promised.

Ehlana had not yet left the room, and Sparhawk sometimes forgot how sharp her ears were. ‘Who’s this Naween?’ she asked from the doorway with a slight edge to her voice.

‘She’s a whore,’ Platime shrugged, ‘a special friend of Sparhawk’s.’

‘
Platime!
’ Sparhawk gasped.

‘Isn’t she?’

‘Well, I suppose so, but when you say it that way –’ Sparhawk groped for the right words.

‘Oh. I didn’t mean it that way, Ehlana. So far as I know, your husband’s completely faithful to you. Naween’s a whore. That’s her occupation, but it doesn’t have anything to do with her friendship – not that she didn’t make Sparhawk some offers – but she makes those offers to everybody. She’s a very generous girl.’

‘Please, Platime,’ Sparhawk groaned, ‘don’t be on my side any more.’

‘Naween’s a good girl,’ Platime continued to explain
to Ehlana. ‘She works hard, she takes good care of her customers and she pays her taxes.’

‘
Taxes?
’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘Are you telling me that my government encourages that sort of thing? Legitimises it by taxing it?’

‘Have you been living on the moon, Ehlana? Of course she pays taxes. We all do. Lenda sees to that. Naween helped Sparhawk once while you were sick. He was looking for that Krager fellow, and she helped him. Like I said, she offered him other services as well, but he turned her down – politely. She’s always been a bit disappointed in him about that.’

‘You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said ominously.

‘As your Majesty wishes,’ he sighed as she swept coolly from the room.

‘She doesn’t know very much about the real world, does she, Sparhawk?’

‘It’s her sheltered upbringing.’

‘I thought
you
were the one who brought her up.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then you’ve only got yourself to blame. I’ll have Naween stop by and explain it all to her.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’

Talen came in from Demos the next day, and he rode into the courtyard with Sir Berit. Sparhawk and Khalad met them at the stable door. The prince consort was making some effort to be inconspicuous until such time as the queen’s curiosity about Naween diminished. Talen’s nose was red, and his eyes looked puffy. ‘I thought you were going to stay at the farm until you got over that cold,’ Sparhawk said to him.

‘I couldn’t stand all that mothering,’ Talen said, slipping down from his saddle. ‘One mother is bad enough, but my brothers and I have two now. I don’t think I’ll
ever be able to look another bowl of chicken soup in the face again. Hello, Khalad.’

‘Talen,’ Sparhawk’s burly young squire grunted. He looked critically at his half-brother. ‘Your eyes look terrible.’

‘You ought to see them from in here.’ Talen was about fifteen now, and he was going through one of those ‘stages’. Sparhawk was fairly certain that the young thief had grown three inches in the past month and a half. A goodly amount of forearm and wrist stuck out of the sleeves of his doublet. ‘Do you think the cooks might have something to eat?’ the boy asked. As a result of his rapid growth, Talen ate almost constantly now.

‘I’ve got some papers for you to sign, Sparhawk,’ Berit said. ‘It’s nothing very urgent, but I thought I’d ride in with Talen.’ Berit wore a mail shirt, and he had a broadsword belted at his waist. His weapon of choice, however, was still the heavy war-axe slung to his saddle.

‘Are you going back to the chapterhouse?’ Khalad asked him.

‘Unless Sparhawk has something he wants me for here.’

‘I’ll ride along with you then. Sir Olart wants to give us more instruction with the lance this afternoon.’

‘Why don’t you just unhorse him a few times?’ Berit suggested. ‘Then he’ll leave you alone. You could do it, you know. You’re already better than he is.’

Khalad shrugged. ‘It’d hurt his feelings.’

‘Not to mention his ribs, shoulders and back,’ Berit laughed.

‘It’s a bit ostentatious to outperform your instructors,’ Khalad said. ‘The other novices are already a little sulky about the way my brothers and I have outstripped them. We’ve tried to explain, but they’re sensitive about the fact that we’re peasants. You know how that goes.’ He
looked inquiringly at Sparhawk. ‘Are you going to need me for anything this afternoon, my Lord?’

‘No. Go ahead on out and dent Sir Olart’s armour a bit. He’s got an exaggerated notion of his own skill. Give him some instruction in the virtue of humility.’

‘I’m
really
hungry, Sparhawk,’ Talen complained.