Authors: David Eddings
‘Isn’t it obvious, Sir Knight?’ Emuda’s tone was just slightly condescending. ‘The notion of resurrecting the dead is an absurdity. It’s all quite obviously a hoax. Some henchman is dressed in ancient clothing, appears in a flash of light – which any country-fair charlatan can contrive – and then starts babbling gibberish, which the “spokesman” identifies as an ancient language. Yes, it’s clearly a hoax.’
‘How clever of you to have unmasked it,’ Sephrenia murmured. ‘We all thought it was magic of some kind.’
‘There’s no such thing as magic, madame.’
‘Really?’ she replied mildly. ‘What an amazing thing.’
‘I’d stake my reputation on that.’
‘How courageous of you.’
‘You say that Scarpa was the first of these revolutionaries to appear?’ Vanion asked him.
‘By more than a year, Sir Knight. The first reports of his activities began to appear in diplomatic dispatches from the capital at Arjuna just over four years ago. The next to emerge was Baron Parok of Daconia, and I have a sworn statement from a ship-captain that Scarpa sailed from Kaftal in southwestern Arjuna to Ahar in Daconia. Ahar is Baron Parok’s home, and he began
his
activities about three years ago. The connection is obvious.’
‘It
would
seem so, wouldn’t it?’ Sparhawk mused.
‘From Ahar I have documented evidence of the travels of the two. Parok went into Edom, where he actually
stayed in the home town of Rebal – that connection gave me a bit of trouble, since Rebal isn’t using his real name. We’ve identified his home district, though, and the town Parok visited is the district capital. I think I’m safe in assuming that a meeting took place during Parok’s visit. While Parok was in Edom, Scarpa travelled all the way up into Astel. I can’t exactly pinpoint his travels there, but I know he moved around quite a bit just to the north of the marches on the Edomish-Astellian border, and that’s the region where Sabre makes his headquarters. The disturbances in Edom and Astel began some time after Scarpa and Parok had journeyed into those kingdoms. The evidence of connection between the four men is all very conclusive.’
‘What about these reports of supernatural events?’ Tynian asked.
‘More hoaxes, Sir Knight.’ Emuda’s expression was offensively superior. ‘Pure charlatanism. You may have noticed that they always occur out in the countryside where the only witnesses are superstitious peasants and ignorant serfs. Civilised people would not be fooled by such obvious trickery.’
‘I wondered about that,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Are you sure about this timetable of yours? Scarpa was the first to start stirring things up?’
‘Definitely, Sir Sparhawk.’
‘Then he contacted the others and enlisted them? Perhaps a year and a half later?’
Emuda nodded.
‘Where did he go when he left Astel after recruiting Sabre?’
‘I’ve lost track of him for a time there, Sir Sparhawk. He went into the Elene Kingdoms of Western Tamuli about two and a half years ago and didn’t return to Arjuna until eight or ten months later. I have no idea of where he was during that interim. Oh, one other thing.
The so-called vampires began to appear in Arjuna at almost precisely the same time that Scarpa began telling the Arjuni that he’d been in contact with Sheguan, their national hero. The traditional monsters of the other kingdoms also put in
their
appearance at the same time these other revolutionaries began
their
campaigns. Believe me, your Majesty,’ he said earnestly to Ehlana, ‘if you’re looking for a ringleader, Scarpa’s your man.’
‘We thank you for this information, Master Emuda,’ she said sweetly. ‘Would you please provide Sir Bevier with your supporting data and describe your findings to him in greater detail? Pressing affairs necessarily limit the time we can spend with you, fascinating though we find your conclusions.’
‘I shall be happy to share the entire body of my research with Sir Bevier, your Majesty.’
Bevier rolled his eyes ceilingward and sighed.
They watched the enthusiast lead poor Bevier from the room.
‘I’d hate to have to take
that
case into any court – civil
or
ecclesiastical,’ Emban snorted.
‘It
is
a bit thin, isn’t it?’ Stragen agreed.
‘The only thing that makes me pay any attention to him at all is that timetable of his,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Dolmant sent me to Lamorkand late last winter to look into the activities of Count Gerrich. While I was there, I heard all the wild stories about Drychtnath. It seems that our prehistoric Lamork started making appearances at a time that coincides almost exactly with the period when our scholarly friend lost track of Scarpa. Emuda’s such a complete ass that I sort of hate to admit it, but he may just have hit upon the right answer.’
‘But it’s for all the wrong reasons, Sparhawk,’ Emban objected.
‘I’m only interested in his answers, your Grace,’ Sparhawk
replied. ‘As long as they’re the right answers, I don’t care
how
he got them.’
‘It’s just too risky to do it any earlier, Sparhawk,’ Stragen said later that day.
‘You two are taking a lot of chances,’ Sparhawk objected.
‘It’s a hull lot more chancy t’ stort out earlier, Sparhawk,’ Caalador drawled. ‘Iff’n we wuz t’ grab th’ leaders sooner, them ez is left could jist call it all off, an’ all these traps o’ ourn wouldn’t ketch no rabbits. We gotta wait ‘till they open that warehouse an’ stort passin’ out them there weepons.’
Sparhawk winced. ‘Weepons?’
‘The word wouldn’t appear in that particular dialect,’ Caalador shrugged. ‘I had to countrify it up – just for the sake of consistency.’
‘You switch back and forth like a frog on a hot rock, my friend.’
‘I know. Infuriating, isn’t it? It goes like this, Sparhawk. If we pick up the conspirators any time before they start arming the mob, they’ll be able to suspend operations and go to ground. They’ll wait, reorganise and then pick another day – which it is that we won’t know nuthin’ about. On the other hand, once they pass out the weapons, it’ll be too late. There’ll be thousands in the streets – most of them about half-drunk. Our friends in the upper councils could no more stop them than stop the tide. The sheer momentum of this attempted coup will be working for
us
instead of for our shadowy friends.’
‘They can still go to ground and just feed the mob to the wolves, you know.’
Caalador shook his head. ‘Tamul justice is a bit abrupt, and an attack on the emperor is going to be viewed as the worst sort of bad manners. Several
hundred people are going to be sent to the headsman’s block. Recruitment after that will be virtually impossible. They have no choice. Once they start, they
have
to follow through.’
‘You’re talking about some very delicate timing, you know.’
‘Aw, that’s easy tuk care of, Sparhawk,’ Caalador grinned. ‘There’s this yere temple right smack dab in the middle o’ town. It’s more’n likely all fulla cobwebs an’ dust, on accounta our little yella brothers don’t take ther religion none too serious-like. There’s these yere priests ez sits around in there, drinkin’ an’ carousin’ an’ sich. When they gits therselves all beered-up an’ boistrous-like, they usual decides t’ hold services. They got this yere bell, which it is ez must weigh along ‘bout twenty ton ‘er so. One o’ them there drunk priests, he wobbles over t’ that there bell an’ he takes up this yere sledge-hammer an’ he whacks the bell a couple licks with it. Makes the awfullest sound you ever
did
hear. Sailors bin known t’ hear it ‘bout ten leagues out t’ sea. Now, there ain’t no special time set fer when they goes t’ whackin’ on that there bell. Folks here in Matherion don’t pay no attention t’ it, figgerin’ that it’s jist the priests enjoyin’ therselves.’ Even Caalador could apparently tire of the exaggerated dialect. ‘That’s the beauty of it, Sparhawk,’ he said, lapsing into normal speech. ‘The sound of that bell is random, and nobody takes any special note of it. Tomorrow night, though, it’s going to be profoundly significant. As soon as that warehouse opens, the bell’s going to peal out its message of hope and joy. The murderers sitting almost in the laps of the people we want to talk with will take that as their orders to move. We’ll have the whole lot rounded up in under a minute.’
‘What if they try to resist?’
‘Oh, there’ll be some losses,’ Caalador shrugged. ‘You
can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. There are several dozen people we want to pick up, so we can afford to lose a few.’
‘The sound of the bell will
also
alert
you
, Sparhawk,’ Stragen pointed out. ‘When you hear it start ringing, you’ll know that it’s time to move your wife’s party inside.’
‘But you can’t
do
this, your Majesty!’ the minister of the interior protested shrilly the next morning as tons of water began to gush into the moat from the throats of the huge pipes strewn across the lawn of the imperial compound.
‘Oh?’ Ehlana asked innocently. ‘And why is that, Minister Kolata?’
‘Uh, well, uh, there’s no sub-foundation under the moat, your Majesty. The water will just sink into the ground.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, Minister Kolata. It’s only for one night. I’m sure the moat will stay full enough until after the party.’
Kolata stared with chagrin at a sudden fountain-like eruption of air and muddy water out in the centre of the moat.
‘My goodness,’ Ehlana said mildly, looking at the sudden whirlpool funnelling down where the eruption had taken place. ‘There must have been an old abandoned cellar under there.’ She laughed a silvery little laugh. ‘I’d imagine that the rats who lived in there were
very
surprised, wouldn’t you agree, your Excellency?’
Kolata looked a bit sick. ‘Uh, would you excuse me, your Majesty?’ he said, and he turned to hurry across the lawn without waiting for a reply.
‘Don’t let him get away, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said coolly. ‘I strongly suspect that Lord Vanion’s list wasn’t as complete as we might have hoped. Why don’t you
invite the minister of the interior into the castle so that you can show him our other preparations?’ She tapped one finger thoughtfully against her chin. ‘And you might ask Sir Kalten and Sir Ulath to join you when you get around to showing his Excellency the torture-chamber. Emperor Sarabian’s excellent minister of the interior might want to add a few names to Vanion’s list.’
It was the cool and unruffled way she said it that chilled Sparhawk’s blood the most.
‘He’s beginning to feel more than a little offended, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said soberly as the two of them watched Khalad’s workmen ‘decorating’ the vast gates of the imperial compound. ‘He’s not stupid, and he knows that we’re not telling him everything.’
‘It can’t be helped, Vanion. He’s just too erratic to be let in on all the details.’
‘Mercurial might be a more diplomatic term.’
‘Whatever. We don’t really know him all that well, Vanion, and we’re operating in an alien society. For all we know, he keeps a diary and writes everything down. That could be a Tamul custom. It’s entirely possible that our whole plan could be available to the chambermaid who makes up his bed every morning.’
‘You’re speculating, Sparhawk.’
‘These ambushes out in the countryside weren’t speculation.’
‘Surely you don’t suspect the emperor.’
‘
Somebody
passed the word of our expeditions along to our enemy, Vanion. We can apologise to the emperor
after
this evening’s entertainment is concluded.’
‘Oh, that’s just
too
obvious, Sparhawk!’ Vanion burst out, pointing at the heavy steel lattice Khalad’s workmen were installing on the inside of the gates.
‘It won’t be visible when they open the gates all the way, Vanion, and Khalad’s going to hang bunting on
the lattice to conceal it. Did Sephrenia have any luck when she tried to contact Zalasta?’
‘No. He must still be too far away.’
‘I’d be a lot more comfortable if he were here. If the Troll-Gods put in an appearance tonight, we could be in very serious trouble.’
‘Aphrael can deal with them.’
‘Not without revealing her true identity, she can’t, and if that comes out, my wife’s going to find out some things I’d rather she didn’t know. I’m not so fond of Sarabian that I’m willing to risk Ehlana’s sanity just to keep him on his throne.’
The sun crept slowly down the western sky, moving closer and closer to the horizon. Although he knew it to be an absurdity, it seemed to Sparhawk that the blazing orb was plummeting to earth like a shooting star. There were so many details – so many things that had yet to be done. Worse yet, many of those tasks could not even be commenced until after the sun went down and gathering darkness concealed them from the hundreds of eyes that were certainly out there watching.
It was early evening when Kalten finally came to the royal apartment to announce that they had gone as far as they could go until after dark. Sparhawk was relieved to know that at least
that
much had been completed on time.
‘Was the minister of the interior at all forthcoming?’ Ehlana asked from her chair near the window where Alean and Melidere were involved in the extended process known as ‘doing her hair’.
‘Oh, yes, your Majesty,’ Kalten replied with a broad grin. ‘He seems even more eager to talk than your cousin Lycheas was. Ulath can be very persuasive at times. Kolata seemed to be particularly upset by the leeches.’
‘Leeches?’
Kalten nodded. ‘It was right after Ulath offered to stuff him head-down into a barrelful of leeches that Kolata developed this burning desire to share things with us.’
‘Dear God!’ the queen shuddered.
It was the general opinion of all the guests present that evening that the Queen of Elenia’s party was absolutely
the
crowning event of the season. The lanterns illuminating the mother-of-pearl battlements were spectacular, the gay buntings – several thousand yards of
very
expensive silk – were festive, and the orchestra on the battlements, playing traditional Elene airs rather than the discordant cacophony that passed for music in Sarabian’s court, lent a pleasantly archaic quality to the entire occasion. It was the barges moored in the moat, however, that drew the most astonished comment. The idea of dining out of doors had never occurred to the Tamuls, and the notion of floating dining-rooms ablaze with candle-light and draped with brightly-coloured silk bunting was quite beyond the imagination of the average member of the emperor’s court.