The Complete Elenium Trilogy: The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight, The Sapphire Rose. David Eddings
When they were outside, Sparhawk walked beside the Patriarch of Demos. ‘How long has he been like this?’ he asked.
Dolmant sighed. ‘For a year now at least,’ he replied. ‘His mind has been failing for quite some time, but it’s only in the past year that his senility has reached this level.’
‘Who is Sister Clentis?’
‘His keeper – his nursemaid, actually.’
‘Is his condition widely known?’
‘There are rumours, of course, but we’ve managed to keep his true state a secret.’ Dolmant sighed again. ‘Don’t judge him by the way he is now, Sparhawk. When he was younger, he honoured the throne of the Archprelacy.’
Sparhawk nodded, ‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘How is his health otherwise?’
‘Not good. He’s very frail. It cannot be much longer.’
‘Perhaps that’s why Annias is beginning to move so quickly.’ Sparhawk shifted his silver-embossed shield. ‘Time’s on his side, you know.’
Dolmant made a sour face. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That’s what makes your mission so vital.’
Another churchman came up to join them. ‘Well, Dolmant,’ he said, ‘a very interesting morning. Just how deeply was Annias involved in the scheme?’
‘I didn’t say anything about the Primate of Cimmura, Yarris,’ Dolmant protested with mock innocence.
‘You didn’t have to. It all fits together a bit too neatly. I don’t think anybody on the council missed your point.’
‘Do you know the Patriarch of Vardenais, Sparhawk?’ Dolmant asked.
‘We’ve met a few times.’ Sparhawk bowed slightly to the other churchman, his armour creaking. ‘Your Grace,’ he said.
‘It’s good to see you again, Sir Sparhawk,’ Yarris replied. ‘How are things in Cimmura?’
‘Tense,’ Sparhawk said.
Patriarch Yarris looked at Dolmant. ‘You know that Makova’s going to report everything that happened this morning to Annias, don’t you?’
‘I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. Annias made an ass of himself. Considering his aspirations, that element of his personality is highly relevant.’
‘It is indeed, Dolmant. You’ve made another enemy this morning.’
‘Makova’s never been that fond of me anyway. Incidentally, Yarris, Sparhawk and I would like to present a certain matter to you for your consideration.’
‘Oh?’
‘It involves another ploy by the Primate of Cimmura.’
‘Then let’s thwart him, by all means.’
‘I was hoping you might feel that way about it.’
‘What’s he up to this time?’
‘He presented a spurious marriage certificate to the Royal Council in Cimmura.’
‘Who got married?’
‘Princess Arissa and Duke Osten.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Princess Arissa said almost the same thing.’
‘You’ll swear to that?’
Dolmant nodded. ‘So will Sparhawk,’ he added.
‘I assume that the point of the whole thing was to legitimize Lycheas?’
Dolmant nodded again.
‘Well, then. Why don’t we see if we can disrupt that? Let’s go speak with my secretary. He can draw up the necessary document.’ The Patriarch of Vardenais chuckled. ‘Annias is having a bad month, I’d say. This will make two plots in a row that have failed – and Sparhawk’s been involved both times.’ He looked at the big Pandion. ‘Keep your armour on, my boy,’ he suggested. ‘Annias might decide to have the area between your shoulder blades decorated with a dagger hilt.’
After Dolmant and Sparhawk had given their depositions concerning the statements of Princess Arissa, they left the Patriarch of Vardenais and continued along the corridor to the nave of the Basilica.
‘Dolmant,’ Sparhawk said, ‘do you have any idea about why so many Styrics are here in Chyrellos?’
‘I’ve heard about it. The story is that they’re seeking instruction in our faith.’
‘Sephrenia says that’s an absurdity.’
Dolmant made a wry face. ‘She’s probably right. I’ve laboured for a lifetime and I haven’t as yet managed to convert a single Styric.’
‘They’re very attached to their Gods,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I’m not trying to be offensive, Dolmant, but there seems to be a very close personal relationship between the Styrics and their Gods. Our God is perhaps a bit remote.’
‘I’ll mention that the next time I talk to Him.’ Dolmant smiled. ‘I’m sure He values your opinion.’
Sparhawk laughed. ‘It was a bit presumptuous, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact it was. How long do you think it’s going to be until you can leave for Borrata?’
‘Several days, anyway. I hate to lose the time, but the knights from the other orders have long journeys to make to reach Chyrellos, and I’m more or less obliged to wait for them. All this waiting is making me very impatient, but there’s no help for it, I’m afraid.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I think I’ll spend the time nosing around a bit. It’ll give me something to do, and all these Styrics are making me curious.’
‘Be careful in the streets of Chyrellos, Sparhawk,’ Dolmant advised seriously. ‘They can be very dangerous.’
‘The whole world is dangerous lately, Dolmant. I’ll keep you posted on what I find out.’ Then Sparhawk turned and went down the corridor with his spurs clinking on the marble floor.
It was nearly noon when Sparhawk returned to the chapterhouse. He had ridden slowly through the busy streets of the holy city, paying scant attention to the crowds around him. The deterioration of the Archprelate Cluvonus had saddened him. Despite the rumours that had been circulating of late, actually to see the revered old man’s condition had come as a profound personal shock.
He stopped at the heavy gate and perfunctorily went through the ritual that admitted him. Kalten was waiting in the courtyard. ‘Well?’ the blond man asked. ‘How did it go?’
Sparhawk dismounted heavily and pulled off his helmet. ‘I don’t know if we changed any minds,’ he replied. ‘The Patriarchs who support Annias still support him; the ones who oppose him are still on our side; and those who are neutral are still on the fence.’
‘It was a waste of time, then?’
‘Not entirely, I guess. After this, it might be a little harder for Annias to win over any more uncommitted votes.’
‘I wish you’d make up your mind, Sparhawk.’ Kalten looked closely at his friend. ‘You’re in a sour mood. What really happened?’
‘Cluvonus was there.’
‘That’s a surprise. How did he look?’
‘Awful.’
‘He is eighty-five, Sparhawk. You couldn’t expect him to look very impressive. People wear out, you know.’
‘His mind has gone, Kalten,’