‘You’re so much more handsome when you smile, my champion. You should try it more often.’ She leaned back on her pillows, her face thoughtful. Her pale blonde hair had been carefully combed that morning, and she wore a few modest but quite expensive pieces of jewellery. Her cheeks were prettily rosy, which was in quite some contrast to her very fair skin. ‘What did you do in Rendor after the idiot Aldreas sent you into exile?’
‘That’s hardly the proper way to speak of your father, Ehlana.’
‘He wasn’t much of a father, Sparhawk, and his intellect wasn’t exactly what you’d call towering. The efforts he expended entertaining his sister must have softened his brains.’
‘Ehlana!’
‘Don’t be such a prude, Sparhawk. The whole palace knew about it – the whole city, probably.’
Sparhawk decided that it was time to find a husband for his queen. ‘How did you find out so much about Princess Arissa?’ he asked her. ‘She was sent to that cloister near Demos before you were born.’
‘Gossip lingers, Sparhawk, and Arissa was hardly what you’d call discreet.’
Sparhawk cast about for a way to change the subject. Although Ehlana seemed to be aware of the basic implications of what she was saying, he could not bring himself to give credence to the notion that she could be so worldly. Some part of his mind stubbornly clung to the notion that beneath her evident maturity, she was still the same innocent child he had left ten years before. ‘Hold out your left hand,’ he told her. ‘I have something for you.’ The tone of their relationship was still indistinct. They both felt that keenly, and it made them uncomfortable. Sparhawk swung back and forth between a stiffly correct formality and an abrupt, almost military manner of command. Ehlana seemed to fluctuate, at one moment the coltish, knobblykneed girl he had trained and moulded, and in the next a full-fledged queen. At a somewhat deeper level, they were both extremely aware of the changes a short decade had brought to Ehlana. The process known as ‘filling out’ had done some very significant things to the Queen of Elenia. Since Sparhawk had not been present to grow gradually accustomed to them, they were thrust upon his awareness in full flower. He tried as best he could to avoid looking at her without giving offence. For her part, Ehlana seemed quite self-conscious about her recently-acquired attributes. She seemed to waver between a desire to show them off – even to flaunt them – and an embarrassed wish to conceal them behind anything that lay at hand. It was a difficult time for them both.
At this point something should be clarified in Sparhawk’s defence. Ehlana’s almost overpowering femininity, coupled with her queenly manner and disconcerting candour had distracted him, and the rings looked so much alike that he should be forgiven for taking his own off by mistake. He slipped it on her finger without giving any thought to the implications.
Despite the similarity of the two rings, there were a few minuscule differences, and women are notoriously adept at recognizing such tiny variations. Ehlana gave the ruby ring he had just placed on her finger what appeared to be no more than a cursory glance, then with a squeal of delight, she threw her arms about his neck, nearly pulling him off-balance in the process, and glued her lips to his.
It is unfortunate, perhaps, that Vanion and the Earl of Lenda chose that moment to enter the room. The old earl coughed politely, and Sparhawk, flushing to the roots of his hair, gently but firmly disengaged the queen’s arms from about his neck.
The Earl of Lenda was smiling knowingly, and one of Vanion’s eyebrows was curiously raised. ‘Sorry to interrupt, My Queen,’ Lenda said diplomatically, ‘but since your recovery appears to be progressing so well, Lord Vanion and I thought it might be a suitable time to bring you up to date on certain matters of state.’
‘Of course, Lenda,’ she replied, brushing aside the implied question of just exactly what she and Sparhawk had been doing when the pair had entered the room.
‘There are some friends outside, Your Majesty,’ Vanion said. ‘They will be able to brief you on some events in greater detail than the earl and I would be able to.’
‘Then show them in, by all means.’
Sparhawk stepped to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water; his mouth was very dry for some reason.
Vanion went outside for a moment and returned with Sparhawk’s friends. ‘I believe you know Sephrenia, Kurik and Sir Kalten, Your Majesty,’ he said. He then introduced the others, judiciously omitting references to Talen’s professional activities.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you all,’ Ehlana said graciously. ‘Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make. Sir Sparhawk here has just proposed marriage to me. Wasn’t that nice of him?’
Sparhawk had the glass to his lips at that point, and he went into an extended fit of choking.
‘Why, whatever is the matter, dear?’ Ehlana asked innocently.
He pointed at his throat, making strangling noises.
When Sparhawk had somewhat regained his breath and a few shreds of his composure, the Earl of Lenda looked at his queen. ‘I gather then that Your Majesty has accepted your champion’s proposal?’
‘Of course I have. That’s what I was doing when you came in.’
‘Oh,’ the old man said. ‘I see.’ Lenda was a consummate politician, and he was able to make statements like that without cracking a smile.
‘Congratulations, My Lord,’ Kurik said gruffly, seizing Sparhawk’s hand in a grip of iron and shaking it vigorously.
Kalten was staring at Ehlana. ‘Sparhawk?’ he demanded incredulously.
‘Isn’t it odd how your closest friends never fully understand your greatness, my dear?’ she said to Sparhawk. ‘Sir Kalten,’ she said then, ‘your boyhood friend is the paramount knight in the world. Any woman would be honoured to have him as her husband.’ She smiled smugly. ‘I’m the one who got him, however. All right, friends, please be seated and tell me what’s been happening to my kingdom while I’ve been ill. I trust you’ll be brief. My betrothed and I have many plans to make.’
Vanion had remained standing. He looked around at the others. ‘If I leave out anything important, don’t hesitate to step in and correct me,’ he said. He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Where to begin?’ he mused.
‘You might start by telling me what it was that made me so ill, Lord Vanion,’ Ehlana suggested.
‘You were poisoned, Your Majesty.’
‘What?’
‘A very rare poison from Rendor – the same one that killed your father.’
‘Who was responsible?’
‘In your father’s case, it was his sister. In yours, it was the Primate Annias. You knew that he’s had his eyes on the throne of the Archprelate in Chyrellos, didn’t you?’
‘Of course. I was doing what I could to stand in his way. If he reaches that throne, I think I’ll convert to Eshandism – or maybe even become Styric. Would your God accept me, Sephrenia?’
‘Goddess, Your Majesty,’ Sephrenia corrected. ‘I serve a Goddess.’
‘What an extraordinarily practical notion. Would I have to cut off my hair and sacrifice a few Elene children to her?’
‘Don’t be absurd, Ehlana.’
‘I’m only teasing, Sephrenia,’ Ehlana laughed, ‘but isn’t that what the Elene commons say about Styrics? How did you find out about the poisonings, Lord Vanion?’
Vanion quickly described Sparhawk’s meeting with the ghost of King Aldreas and the recovery of the ring which now – mistakenly – decorated the champion’s hand. He then moved on, covering the de facto rule of Annias and the elevation of the queen’s cousin to the Prince Regency.
‘Lycheas?’ she exclaimed at that point. ‘Ridiculous. He can’t even dress himself.’ She frowned. ‘If I was poisoned and it was the same poison that killed my father, how is it that I’m still alive?’
‘We used magic to sustain you, Queen Ehlana,’ Sephrenia told her.
Vanion then spoke of Sparhawk’s return from Rendor and their growing conviction that Annias had poisoned he
r primarily to gain access to her treasury in order to finance his campaign for the Archprelacy.
Sparhawk took up the story at that point and told the young lady who had so recently netted him of the trip of the group of Church Knights and their companions to Chyrellos, then to Borrata and finally on down into Rendor.
‘Who is Flute?’ Ehlana interrupted him at one point.
‘A Styric foundling,’ he replied. ‘At least we thought she was. She seemed to be about six years old, but she turned out to be much, much older than that.’ He continued his account, describing the trek across Rendor and the meeting with the physician in Dabour who had finally told them that only magic could save the stricken queen. He then went on to tell her of the meeting with Martel.
‘I never liked him,’ she declared, making a face.
‘He’s working for Annias now,’ Sparhawk told her, ‘and he was in Rendor at the same time we were. There was a crazy old religious fanatic down there – Arasham – and he was the spiritual leader of the kingdom. Martel was trying to persuade him to invade the western Elene kingdoms as a diversion to give Annias a free hand during the election of the new Archprelate. Sephrenia and I went to Arasham’s tent, and Martel was there.’
‘Did you kill him?’ Ehlana asked fiercely.
Sparhawk blinked. This was a side of her he had never seen. ‘The time wasn’t exactly right, My Queen,’ he apologized. ‘I came up with a subterfuge instead and persuaded Arasham not to invade until he received word from me. Martel was furious, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He and I had a nice chat later, and he told me that he was the one who had found the poison and passed it on to Annias.’
‘Would that stand up in a court of law, My Lord?’ Ehlana asked the Earl of Lenda.
‘It would depend on the judge, Your Majesty,’ he replied.
‘We have nothing to worry about on that score, Lenda,’ she said grimly, ‘because I’m going to be the judge – also the jury.’
‘Most irregular, Your Majesty,’ he murmured.
‘So was what they did to my father and me. Go on with the story, Sparhawk.’
‘We returned here to Cimmura and went to the chapterhouse. That’s where I received the summons to go to the royal crypt under the cathedral to meet with your father’s ghost. He told me a number of things – first that it was your aunt who had poisoned him and that it was Annias who’d poisoned you. He also told me that Lycheas was the result of certain intimacies between Annias and Arissa.’
‘Thank God!’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘I was half-afraid that he was my father’s bastard. It’s bad enough to have to admit that he’s my cousin, but a brother? Unthinkable.’
‘Your father’s ghost also told me that the only thing that could save your life was the Bhelliom.’
‘What’s the Bhelliom?’
Sparhawk reached inside his doublet and drew out the canvas pouch. He opened it and drew out the Sapphire Rose. ‘This is Bhelliom, Your Majesty,’ he told her. Once again he felt more than saw that annoying flicker of darkness at the very edge of his vision. He shook off the feeling as he held out the jewel.
‘How exquisite!’ she cried, reaching out for it.
‘No!’ Sephrenia said sharply. ‘Don’t touch it, Ehlana! It could destroy you!’
Ehlana shrank back, her eyes wide. ‘But Sparhawk’s touching it,’ she objected.
‘It knows him. It may know you as well, but let’s not take any chances. We’ve all spent too much time and effort on you to waste it at this point.’
Sparhawk tucked the jewel back into its pouch and put it away.
‘There’s something else you should know, Ehlana,’ Sephrenia continued. ‘Bhelliom is the most powerful and precious object in the world, and Azash wants it desperately. That’s what was behind Otha’s invasion of the west five hundred years ago. Otha has Zemochs – and others – here in the west trying to find the jewel. We must deny it to him at any cost.’
‘Should we destroy it now?’ Sparhawk asked her bleakly. The question cost him a great deal of effort to say for some reason.
‘Destroy it?’ Ehlana cried, ‘but it’s so beautiful!’
‘It’s also evil,’ Sephrenia told her. She paused. ‘Perhaps evil isn’t the right term, though. It has no concept of the difference between good and evil. No, Sparhawk, let’s keep it for a while longer until we’re certain Ehlana is past any danger of a relapse. Go on with the story. Try to be brief. Your queen is still very weak.’
‘I’ll cut this short then,’ he said. He told his queen of their search of the battlefield at Lake Randera and of how they were finally able to locate Count Ghasek. The queen listened intently, almost seeming to hold her breath as he recounted the events at Lake Venne. He quickly sketched in King Wargun’s interference – though he did not use that exact word – and finally described the dreadful encounter in Ghwerig’s cave and the revelation of Flute’s real identity. ‘And that’s where things stand now, My Queen,’ he concluded. ‘King Wargun’s battling with the Rendors down in Arcium; Annias is in Chyrellos awaiting the death of Archprelate Cluvonus; and you’re back on your throne where you belong.’
‘And also newly betrothed,’ she reminded him. She was obviously not going to let him forget that. She thought for a moment. ‘And what have you done with Lycheas?’ she asked intently.
‘He’s back in the dungeon where he belongs, Your Majesty.’
‘And Harparin and that other one?’
‘The fat one’s in the dungeon with Lycheas. Harparin left us rather suddenly.’
‘You let him escape?’
Kalten shook his head. ‘No, Your Majesty. He started screaming and trying to order us out of the council chamber. Vanion got bored with all the noise and had Ulath chop off his head.’
‘How very appropriate. I want to see Lycheas.’
‘Shouldn’t you rest?’ Sparhawk asked her.
‘Not until I have a few words with my cousin.’
‘I’ll fetch him,’ Ulath said. He turned and left the room.
‘My Lord of Lenda,’ Ehlana said then, ‘will you preside over my royal council?’
‘As Your Majesty wishes,’ Lenda said with a low bow.
‘And Lord Vanion, would you also serve – when your other duties permit?’
‘I’d be honoured, Your Majesty.’
‘As my consort and champion, Sparhawk will also have a seat at the council table – and I think Sephrenia as well.’
‘I am Styric, Ehlana,’ Sephrenia pointed out. ‘Would it be wise to put a Styric on your council, given the feelings of the Elene commons about our race?’
‘I’m going to put an end to that nonsense once and for all,’ Ehlana said firmly. ‘Sparhawk, can you think of anyone else who might be useful on the council?’
He thought about it, and suddenly an idea came to him. ‘I know a man who isn’t of noble birth, Your Majesty, but he’s very clever and he understands a great deal about a side of Cimmura you probably don’t even know exists.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘His name’s Platime.’
Talen burst out laughing. ‘Have you lost your mind, Sparhawk?’ he said. ‘You’re going to let Platime into the same building with the treasury and the crown jewels?’
Ehlana looked a bit puzzled. ‘Is there some problem with this man?’ she asked.
‘Platime’s the biggest thief in Cimmura,’ Talen told her. ‘I know that for a fact because I used to work for him. He controls every thief and beggar in the city – also the swindlers, cut-throats and whores.’
‘Watch your language, young man!’ Kurik barked.
‘I’ve heard the term before, Kurik,’ Ehlana said calmly. ‘I know what it means. Tell me, Sparhawk, what’s your reasoning behind this suggestion?’
‘As I said, Platime’s very clever – in some ways almost brilliant, and, though it’s a little odd, he’s a patriot. He has a vast understanding of the society of Cimmura, and he has ways of finding information that I c
an’t even guess at. There’s nothing that happens in Cimmura – or in most of the rest of the world, for that matter – that he doesn’t know about.’
‘I’ll interview him,’ Ehlana promised.
Then Ulath and Sir Perraine dragged Lycheas into the room. Lycheas gaped at his cousin, his mouth open and his eyes bulging in astonishment. ‘How –?’ he began, then broke off, biting his lip.
‘You didn’t expect to see me alive, Lycheas?’ she asked in a deadly tone.
‘I believe it’s customary to kneel in the presence of your queen, Lycheas,’ Ulath growled, kicking the bastard’s feet out from under him. Lycheas crashed to the floor and grovelled there.
The Earl of Lenda cleared his throat. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘during the time of your illness, Prince Lycheas insisted that he be addressed as “Your Majesty”. I’ll have to consult the statutes, but I believe that constitutes high treason.’
‘That’s what I arrested him for at least,’ Sparhawk added.
‘That’s good enough for me,’ Ulath said, raising his axe. ‘Say the word, Queen of Elenia, and we’ll have his head on a pole at the palace gate in a matter of minutes.’
Lycheas gaped at them in horror and then began to cry, pleading for his life while his cousin pretended to think it over. At least Sparhawk hoped that she was pretending. ‘Not here, Sir Ulath,’ she said a bit regretfully. ‘The carpeting, you understand.’
‘King Wargun wanted to hang him,’ Kalten said. He looked up. ‘You’ve got a nice high ceiling in here, Your Majesty, and good stout beams. It won’t take me but a moment to fetch a rope. We can have him dancing in the air in no time, and hanging’s not nearly as messy as beheading.’
Ehlana looked at Sparhawk. ‘What do you think, dear? Should we hang my cousin?’
Sparhawk was profoundly shocked at the cold-blooded way she said it.
‘Ah – he has a great deal of information that could be useful to us, My Queen,’ he said.
‘That might be true,’ she said. ‘Tell me, Lycheas, have you anything you’d like to share with us while I think this over?’
‘I’ll say anything you want, Ehlana,’ he blubbered.