‘You seem to have made an astonishing recovery, Radun.’ Wargun laughed. ‘My congratulations. Tell me, how did you stick your head back on?’
Annias had gone very pale. He stared in stunned disbelief at Count Radun. ‘How did you –’ he blurted. Then he recovered. He looked around wildly for an instant as if seeking a way to escape. Then he seemed to get hold of himself. ‘Your Majesties,’ he stammered, ‘I have been misled by false witnesses. Please forgive me.’ He was visibly sweating now. Then he spun about. ‘Seize those two liars!’ He pointed at Tessera and Verl, who were both cringing in terror. Several red-liveried guards quickly rushed the pair from the room.
‘Annias thinks very fast on his feet, doesn’t he?’ Kalten murmured to Sparhawk. ‘How much would you care to wager that those two will manage somehow to hang themselves before the sun goes down – with a certain amount of help, of course?’
‘I’m not a betting man, Kalten,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Not on a proposition like that, anyway.’
‘Why don’t you tell us what really happened at your castle, Count Radun?’ Dolmant suggested.
‘It was really fairly simple, your Grace,’ Radun replied. ‘Sir Sparhawk and Sir Kalten arrived at my gates some time ago and warned me that a group of men dressed in the armour of Pandion Knights were planning to gain entry by subterfuge and murder me and my family. They had a number of real Pandions with them. When the impostors arrived, Sir Sparhawk led his knights against them and drove them off.’
‘Fortuitous,’ King Obler observed. ‘Which of these stalwarts is Sir Sparhawk?’
Sparhawk stepped forward. ‘I am, your Majesty.’
‘How did you become aware of this plot?’
‘It was quite by accident, your Majesty. I happened to overhear a conversation concerning it. I immediately informed Lord Vanion, and he ordered Kalten and me to take preventive steps.’
King Dregos rose to his feet and came down from the dais. ‘I have wronged you, Lord Vanion,’ he said in a thick voice. ‘Your motives were the very best, and I accused you. Can you forgive me?’
‘There is nothing to forgive, your Majesty,’ Vanion replied. ‘Under the circumstances, I’d have done exactly the same.’
The Arcian King took the preceptor’s hand and clasped it warmly.
‘Tell me, Sir Sparhawk,’ King Obler asked, ‘could you by chance identify the plotters?’
‘I couldn’t see their faces, your Majesty.’
‘A shame, really,’ the old king sighed. ‘It would appear that the plot was fairly widespread. The two who came before us to testify would also seem to have been a part of it, and at some prearranged signal were to have stepped forward with their obviously well-coached lies.’
‘That same thought had occurred to me, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk agreed.
‘But who was behind it? And against whom was it really directed? Count Radun, perhaps? Or King Dregos? Or even Lord Vanion?’
‘That might be impossible to determine – unless the so-called witnesses can be persuaded to identify their fellow plotters.’
‘Excellent point, Sir Sparhawk.’ King Obler looked sternly at the Primate Annias. ‘It lies upon you, your Grace, to ensure that the merchant Tessera and the serf Verl are available for questioning. We would all be most distressed should anything of a permanent nature happen to either of them.’
Annias’ face grew stiff. ‘I shall have them both closely guarded, your Majesty,’ he assured the King of Deira. He gestured to one of his soldiers and muttered some instructions to the man, who blanched slightly, then hurried from the room.
‘Sir Sparhawk,’ Lycheas blustered, ‘you were ordered to Demos and told to remain there until you received permission to leave. Why is it that you –’
‘Be still, Lycheas,’ Annias snapped at him.
A slow flush crept up the pimpled young man’s face.
‘I would say that you owe Lord Vanion an apology, Annias,’ Dolmant said pointedly.
Annias paled and then turned stiffly to the Pandion chief. ‘Please accept my apologies, Lord Vanion,’ he said shortly. ‘I was misled by liars.’
‘Of course, my dear Primate,’ Vanion replied. ‘We all blunder from time to time, don’t we?’
‘I believe that more or less concludes this matter then,’ Dolmant said. He cast a sidelong glance at Annias, who was obviously making a great effort to control his emotions. ‘Be assured, Annias,’ the Patriarch of Demos said to him, ‘I will cast this entire matter in as charitable a light as I can when I make my report to the Hierocracy in Chyrellos. I’ll try my very best not to make you look like a complete idiot.’
Annias bit his lip.
‘Tell us, Sir Sparhawk,’ King Obler said, ‘could you in any way identify the people who approached the count’s castle?’
‘The man who was leading them is named Adus, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘He’s a thick-witted savage who does the bidding of a renegade Pandion named Martel. Many of his men were just ordinary mercenaries. The rest were Rendors.’
‘Rendors?’ King Dregos said, his eyes narrowing. ‘There have been tensions of late between my kingdom and Rendor, but this plot seems a bit involuted for the Rendorish mind.’
‘We could spend hours in speculation, Dregos,’ King Wargun said, holding his empty wine cup out for a serving man to refill. ‘An hour or so on the rack should persuade the merchant and the serf down in the dungeon to tell us what they know about their fellow plotters.’
‘The Church does not approve of such methods, your Majesty,’ Dolmant said.
Wargun snorted derisively. ‘The dungeons beneath the Basilica of Chyrellos are reputed to employ the most expert interrogators in the world,’ he said.
‘That practice is being discontinued.’
‘Perhaps,’ Wargun said, ‘but this is a civil matter. We’re not constrained by churchly delicacy, and I for one don’t propose to wait while you pray an answer out of those two.’
Lycheas, who had been smarting from the almost absent-minded rebuke Annias had delivered to him, straightened on his throne-like chair. ‘We are delighted that this matter has been resolved so amicably,’ he announced, ‘and we rejoice that the reports concerning the death of Count Radun have proved to be unfounded. I agree with the Patriarch of Demos that we can consider this inquiry concluded – unless Lord Vanion’s excellent witnesses can shed further light on just who might have been behind this monstrous conspiracy.’
‘No, your Highness,’ Vanion told him. ‘We are not prepared at this time to do so.’
Lycheas turned to the kings of Thalesia, Deira, and Arcium, trying with scant success to look regal. ‘Our time, your Majesties, is short,’ he said. ‘We each have kingdoms to rule, and there are other matters requiring our attention. I suggest that we tender Lord Vanion our appreciation for his aid in clarifying this situation and give him permission to withdraw so that we may turn to state matters.’
The kings nodded their agreement.
‘You and your friends may leave now, Lord Vanion,’ Lycheas said grandly.
‘Thank you, your Highness,’ Vanion replied with a stiff bow. ‘We are all happy to have been of service to you.’ He turned and started towards the door.
‘A moment, Lord Vanion,’ Darellon, the slightly built Preceptor of the Alcione Knights said. Then he stepped forward. ‘Since your Majesties’ conversations will now turn on state matters, I think that I, Lord Komier, and Lord Abriel will also withdraw. We are little versed in statecraft and could contribute nothing of value to your discussions. The matter that has come to light this morning, however, requires some consultation among the militant orders. Should conspiracies of this nature recur, we must make preparations to meet them.’
‘Well said,’ Komier agreed.
‘A splendid idea, Darellon,’ King Obler gave his assent. ‘Let’s not be caught asleep again. Keep me advised of the thrust of your discussions.’
‘You may rely upon me, your Majesty.’
The preceptors of the other three orders marched down from the dais and joined Vanion, who led the way from the ornate audience chamber. Once they were out in the corridor, Komier, the hulking Preceptor of the Genidian Knights, grinned openly. ‘Very neat, Vanion,’ he said.
‘I’m glad you liked it.’ Vanion grinned back.
‘My head must have been packed in wool this morning,’ Komier confessed. ‘Would you believe I almost accepted all that tripe?’
