‘Good. I think we’ll bring Elius back here to question him. Then you can lock him up. I can’t let him go, once he knows I’m here, and Sephrenia disapproves of random murders. If he just disappears, there’ll be some un-certainty about what happened to him.’
‘Won’t he make an outcry when you take him captive?’
‘Not very likely, my Lord,’ Kurik assured him, drawing his heavy dagger. He slapped the hilt solidly against his palm. ‘I can practically guarantee that he’ll be asleep.’
The streets were quiet. The overcast which had obscured the sky that afternoon had cleared, and the stars were very bright overhead.
‘No moon,’ Kurik said quietly as he and Sparhawk crept through the deserted streets. ‘That’s a help.’
‘It’s been rising late the past three nights,’ Sparhawk said.
‘How late?’
‘We’ve got a couple more hours.’
‘Can we make it back to the monastery by then?’
‘We have to.’ Sparhawk stopped just before they reached an intersection and peered around the corner of a house. A man wearing a short cape and carrying a spear and a small lantern was shuffling sleepily along the street. ‘Watchman,’ Sparhawk breathed, and he and Kurik stepped into the shadows of a deeply recessed doorway.
The watchman plodded on past, the lantern swinging from his hand casting looming shadows against the walls of the buildings.
‘He should be more alert,’ Kurik growled disapprovingly.
‘Under the circumstances your sense of what’s proper.
might be a little misplaced.’
‘Right is right, Sparhawk,’ Kurik replied stubbornly.
After the watchman was out of sight, they crept on up the street.
‘Are we just going to walk up to the gate of the consulate?’ Kurik asked.
‘No. When we get close to it, we’ll go in over the roof tops.’
‘I’m not a cat, Sparhawk. Leaping from roof to roof isn’t my idea of entertainment.’
‘The houses are all built up against each other in that part of town. The roof tops are just like a highway.’
‘Oh,’ Kurik grunted. ‘That’s different then.’
The consulate of the Kingdom of Elenia was a fairly large building surrounded by a high, white-mortared wall. There were torches set on long poles at each corner, and a narrow lane running alongside the wall.
‘Does that lane run all the way around it?’ Kurik asked.
‘It did the last time I was here.’
There’s a significant hole in your plan then, Sparhawk. I can’t jump all the way from one of these roof tops to the top of that wall.’
‘I don’t think I could either.’ Sparhawk frowned. ‘Let’s go around and look at the other side.’
They crept through a series of narrow streets and alleys that wound along the back sides of the houses facing the consulate wall. A dog came out and barked at them until Kurik shied a rock at him. The dog yelped and ran off on three legs.
‘Now I know how a burglar feels,’ Kurik muttered.
‘There,’ Sparhawk said.
There where?’
‘Right over there. Some helpful fellow is doing some repairs on his roof. See that pile of beams stacked up against the side of that wall? Let’s go see how long they are.’
They crossed the alley to the stack of building material. Kurik studiously measured the beams off with his feet. ‘Marginal,’ he observed.
‘We’ll never know until we try,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘All right. How do we get up to the roof?’
‘We’ll lean the beams against the wall. If we slant them up right, we should be able to scramble up and then pull them after us.’
‘I’m glad you don’t have to construct your own siege engines, Sparhawk,’ Kurik observed sourly ‘All right. Let’s try it.’
They leaned several beams against the wall, and Kurik, grunting and sweating, hauled himself up to the roof. ‘All right,’ he whispered down over the edge. ‘come on up.’
Sparhawk climbed up the beam, picking up a large splinter in his hand in the process. Then he and Kurik laboriously hauled the beams up after them and carried them one by one across the roof to the side facing the consulate wall. The flickering torches atop the wall cast a faint glow across the roof tops. As they were carrying the last beam, Kurik stopped suddenly. ‘Sparhawk,’ he called softly.
‘What?’
‘Two roofs over. There’s a woman lying there.’
‘How do you know it’s a woman?’
‘Because she’s stark naked, that’s how.’
‘Oh,’ Sparhawk said, ‘that. It’s a Rendorish custom. She’s waiting for the moon to rise. They have a superstition here that the first rays of the moon on a woman’s belly increase her fertility.’
‘Won’t she see us?’
‘She won’t say anything if she does. She’s too busy waiting for the moon. Press on, Kurik. Don’t stand there gawking at her.’
They struggled manfully to push a beam out over the narrow lane, a task made more difficult by the fact that their leverage diminished as they shoved the beam out farther and farther. Finally the stubborn beam clunked down on top of the consulate wall. They slid several more beams across along its top, then rolled them to one side to form a narrow bridge. As they were shoving the last one across, Kurik suddenly stopped with a muttered oath.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sparhawk asked him.
‘How did we get up on this roof, Sparhawk?’ Kurik asked acidly.
‘We climbed up a slanted beam.’
‘Where did we want to go?’
‘To the top of the wall of the consulate over there.’
‘Then why are we building bridges?’
‘Because—’ Sparhawk stopped, feeling suddenly very foolish. ‘We could have just leaned a beam against the wall of the consulate, couldn’t we?’
‘Congratulations, my Lord,’ Kurik said sarcastically.
‘The bridge was such a perfect solution to the problem,’ Sparhawk said defensively.
‘But totally unnecessary.’
That doesn’t really invalidate the solution, does it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Why don’t we just go on across?’
‘You go ahead. I think I’ll go talk with the naked lady for a while.’
‘Never mind, Kurik. She has her mind on other things.’
‘I’m sort of an expert on fertility, if that’s what’s really bothering her.’
‘Let’s go, Kurik.’
They crossed their makeshift bridge to the top of the consulate wall and crept along it until they reached a place where the branches of a well-watered fig tree reached up out of the shadows below. They climbed down the tree and stood for a moment or two beside it while Sparhawk got his bearings.
‘You wouldn’t happen to know where the consul’s bedchamber is, would you?’ Kurik whispered.
‘No,’ Sparhawk replied softly, ‘but I can guess. It’s the Elenian consulate, and all official Elenian buildings are more or less the same. The private quarters will be upstairs at the back.’
‘Very good, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said dryly. ‘That narrows things down considerably. Now we only have to search about a quarter of the building.’
They crept through a shadowy garden and entered by way of an unlocked back door. They passed through a darkened kitchen and into the dimly lit central hall. Kurik suddenly jerked Sparhawk back into the kitchen.
‘What ‘ Sparhawk started to object in a hoarse whisper.
‘Shhh!’
Out in the hall there was the bobbing glow of a candle. A matronly woman, a housekeeper or perhaps a cook, walked towards the kitchen door. Sparhawk shrank back as she stood framed in the doorway. Then she took hold of the handle and firmly closed the door.
‘How did you know she was coming?’ Sparhawk whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Kurik whispered back. ‘I just did.’ He put his ear t
o the door. ‘She’s moving on,’ he reported softly.
‘What’s she doing up at this time of the night?’
‘Who knows? Maybe she’s just making sure all the doors are locked. Aslade does that every night.’ He listened again. ‘There,’ he said, ‘she just closed another door, and I can’t hear her out there any more. I think she went to bed.’
‘The staircase should be just opposite the main entry-way,’ Sparhawk whispered. ‘Let’s get upstairs before somebody else comes wandering by.’
They darted out into the hallway and up a broad flight of stairs to the upper floor.
‘Look for an ornate door,’ Sparhawk whispered. The consul’s the master of the house, so he’s likely to have the most luxurious room. You go that way, and I’ll go this.’
They separated and went in opposite directions on tiptoe. At the end of the hallway, Sparhawk found an elaborately carved door decorated with gilt paint. He opened it carefully and looked inside. By the light of a single dimly glowing oil lamp he saw a stout, florid-faced man of fifty or so lying on his back in the bed. The man was snoring loudly. Sparhawk recognized him. He softly closed the door and went looking for Kurik. His squire met him at the head of the stairs.
‘How old a man is the consul?’ Kurik whispered.
‘About fifty.’
‘The one I saw wasn’t him, then. There’s a carved door at the far end. There’s a young fellow about twenty in bed with an older woman.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘No. They were busy.’
‘Oh. The consul’s sleeping alone. He’s down at this end of the hall.’
‘Do you suppose the woman at the other end could be his wife?’
‘That’s their business, isn’t it?’
Together they tiptoed back down to the gilt-painted door. Sparhawk eased it open, and they went inside and crossed the floor to the bed. Sparhawk reached out and took the consul’s shoulder. ‘Your Excellency,’ he said quietly, shaking the man.
The consul’s eyes flew open, then glazed and went blank as Kurik rapped him sharply behind the ear with the hilt of his dagger. They trussed the unconscious man up in a dark blanket and Kurik unceremoniously slung the limp form over his shoulder. ‘is that everything we need here?’ he asked.
‘That’s it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go.’
They crept back down the stairs and into the kitchen again. Sparhawk carefully closed the door leading into the main part of the house. ‘Wait here,’ he breathed to Kurik. ‘Let me check the garden. I’ll whistle if it’s clear.’ He slipped out into the shadowed garden and carefully moved from tree to tree, his eyes alert. He suddenly realized that he was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t had so much pure fun since he and Kalten had been boys and had regularly slipped out of his father’s house in the middle of the night bent on mischief.
He whistled a very poor imitation of a nightingale.
After a moment, he heard Kurik’s hoarse whisper coming from the kitchen door. ‘is that you?’
For an instant, he was tempted to whisper back, ‘No,’ but then he got himself under control again.
They had some difficulty getting the inert body of the consul up the fig tree, but finally managed by main strength. Then they crossed their makeshift bridge and pulled the beams back onto the roof.
‘She’s still there,’ Kurik whispered.
‘Who is?’
The naked lady.’
‘It’s her roof.’
They dragged the beams back to the far side of the roof and lowered them again. Then Sparhawk climbed down and caught the consul’s body when Kurik lowered it to him. Kurik joined him a moment later, and they restacked the beams against the wall.
‘All nice and neat,’ Sparhawk said with satisfaction, brushing his hands together.
Kurik hefted the body up onto his shoulder again. ‘Won’t his wife miss him?’ he asked.
‘Not very much, I wouldn’t think—if that was her in the bedroom at the other end of the hall. Why don’t we go back to the monastery?’
They trudged off carrying the body and reached the outskirts of town in about half an hour, dodging several watchmen along the way The consul, draped over Sparhawk’s shoulder, groaned and stirred weakly.
Kurik rapped him on the head again.
When they entered the abbot’s study, Kurik unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man on the floor. He and Sparhawk looked at each other for a moment, then they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ the abbot demanded.
‘You should have come along, my Lord,’ Kurik gasped. ‘I haven’t had so much fun in years.’ He began laughing again. ‘The bridge was the best, I think.’
‘I sort of liked the naked lady,’ Sparhawk disagreed.
‘Have you two been drinking?’ the abbot asked suspiciously.
‘Not a drop, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s a thought, though, if you’ve got anything handy Where’s Sephrenia?’
‘I persuaded her that she and the child should get some sleep.’ The abbot paused. ‘What naked lady?’ he demanded, his eyes afire with curiosity.
‘There was a woman up on a roof going through that fertility ritual,’ Sparhawk told him, still laughing. ‘She sort of distracted Kurik for a moment or two.’
‘Was she pretty?’ The abbot grinned at Kurik.
‘I couldn’t really say, my Lord. I wasn’t looking at her face.’
‘My Lord Abbot,’ Sparhawk said then, a bit more seriously, though he still felt enormously exuberant, ‘we’re going to question Elius as soon as he wakes up. Please don’t be alarmed by some of the things we say to him.’
‘I quite understand, Sparhawk,’ the abbot replied.
‘Good. All right, Kurik, let’s wake up his Excellency here and see what he has to say for himself.’
Kurik stripped the blanket off the consul’s limp body and began pinching the unconscious man’s ears and nose. After a moment, the consul’s eyelids fluttered. Then he groaned and opened his eyes. He stared blankly at them for a moment, then sat up quickly. ‘Who are you? What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
Kurik smacked him firmly across the back of the head.
‘You see how it is, Elius,’ Sparhawk said blandly. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Elius, do you? Possibly you may remember me. The name’s Sparhawk.’
‘Sparhawk?’ the consul gasped. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘That’s a highly exaggerated rumour, Elius. Now, the fact of the matter is that you’ve been abducted. We have a number of questions for you. Things will go much more pleasantly for you if you answer them freely. Otherwise, you’re in for a very bad night.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
Kurik hit him again.
‘I’m the consul of the Kingdom of Elenia,’ Elius blustered, trying to cover the back of his head with both hands, ‘and the cousin of the Primate of Cimmura. You can’t do this to me.’
Sparhawk sighed. ‘Break a few of his fingers, Kurik,’ he suggested, ‘just to show him that we can do this to him.’
Kurik set his foot against the consul’s chest, pushed him back onto the floor, and seized the weakly struggling captive’s right wrist.
‘No!’ Elius squealed. ‘Don’t! I’ll tell you anything you want.’
‘I told you he’d co-operate, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said conversationally to the abbot, pulling off his Rendorish robe to stand revealed in his mail coat and sword belt, ‘just as soon as he understood the seriousness of the situation.’
‘Your methods are direct, Sir Sparhawk,’ the abbot noted.
‘I’m a plain man, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, scratching at one mailed armpit. ‘Subtlety isn’t one of my strong points.’ He nudged the captive with one foot. ‘All right, then, Elius, I’ll make things simple for you. All you have to do at first is confirm a number of statements.’ He drew up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. ‘First of all, your cousin, the Primate
of Cimmura, has his eyes on the throne of the Archprelacy, right?’
‘You have no proof of that.’
‘Break his thumb, Kurik.’
Still holding the consul’s wrist in his grip, Kurik prised open the man’s clenched fist and grasped his thumb. ‘In how many places, my Lord?’ he asked politely.
‘Do as many as you can, Kurik. Give him something to think about.’
‘No! No! It’s true!’ Elius gasped, his eyes wide with terror.
‘We’re making real progress here,’ Sparhawk observed with a relaxed smile. ‘Now. You’ve had dealings in the past with a white-haired man named Martel. He works for your cousin from time to time. Am I right?’
‘Y-yes,’ Elius faltered.
‘Notice how it gets easier as you go along? In fact it was you who set Martel and his hirelings on me that night about ten years ago, wasn’t it?’
‘It was his idea,’ Elius blurted quickly. ‘I’d received orders from my cousin to co-operate with him. He suggested that I summon you that night. I had no idea that he intended to kill you.’
‘You’re very naïve then, Elius. Lately, a fair number of travellers from the northern kingdoms have been circulating rumours here in Cippria that there’s a groundswell of sympathy for Rendorish aims in those kingdoms. Is Martel in any way connected with that campaign?’
Elius stared at him, his lips pressed fearfully shut.
Slowly, Kurik began to bend his thumb back.
‘Yes! Yes!’ Elius squeaked, arching back in pain.
‘You were almost backsliding there, Elius,’ Sparhawk chided. ‘I’d watch that if I were you. The whole purpose of Martel’s campaign here is to persuade the city dwellers of Rendor to join with the desert nomads in an Eshandist uprising against the Church. Am I right?’
‘Martel doesn’t confide in me all that much, but I suppose that’s his ultimate goal, yes.’
‘And he’s supplying weapons, right?’
‘I’ve heard that he is.’
‘This next one is tricky, Elius, so listen carefully. The real point here is to stir things up so that the Church Knights will have to come here and quiet them down again. Isn’t that so?’
Elius nodded sullenly ‘Martel himself hasn’t said so, but my cousin intimated as much to me in his last letter.’