‘It was not entirely your fault, Lord Komier,’ Sephrenia told him.
He gave her a questioning look.
‘Let me think my way through it a bit more,’ she said, frowning.
The big Thalesian looked at Vanion. ‘It was Annias, wasn’t it?’ he guessed shrewdly as they progressed down the hall. ‘The scheme was his, I take it?’
Vanion nodded. ‘The Pandion presence in Elenia is hindering his operations. He saw this as a way to remove us.’
‘Elenian politics get a bit dense sometimes. We’re much more direct in Thalesia. Just how powerful is the Primate of Cimmura?’
Vanion shrugged. ‘He controls the Royal Council. That makes him more or less the ruler of the kingdom.’
‘Does he want the throne for himself?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He prefers to manipulate things from behind the scenes. He’s trying to groom Lycheas for the throne.’
‘Lycheas is a bastard, isn’t he?’
Vanion nodded again.
‘How can a bastard be king? Nobody knows who his father is.’
‘Annias probably believes he can get around that problem. Until Sparhawk’s father intervened, our good primate had very nearly convinced King Aldreas that it was perfectly legitimate for him to marry his own sister.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ Komier shuddered.
‘I’ve heard that Annias has certain ambitions involving the Archprelate’s throne in Chyrellos,’ Abriel, the grey-haired Preceptor of the Cyrinic Knights, said to Patriarch Dolmant.
‘I’ve heard some of the same rumours myself,’ Dolmant replied blandly.
‘This humiliation is going to be quite a setback for him, isn’t it? The Hierocracy’s likely to look with some disfavour on a man who makes a total ass of himself in public.’
‘That thought had crossed my mind as well.’
‘And your report will be quite detailed, I expect?’
‘That is my obligation, Lord Abriel,’ Dolmant said piously. ‘As a member of the Hierocracy myself, I could hardly conceal any of the facts, could I? I will have to present the whole truth to the high councils of the Church.’
‘We wouldn’t have it any other way, your Grace.’
‘We’re going to need to talk, Vanion,’ Darellon, the Preceptor of the Alcione Knights, said seriously. ‘This scheme was directed at you and your order this time, but it concerns us all. It could be any one of us the next time. Is there someplace secure where we can discuss this matter?’
‘Our chapterhouse is on the eastern edge of the city,’ Vanion replied. ‘I can guarantee that none of the primate’s spies are inside its walls.’
As they rode out through the palace gates, Sparhawk remembered something and slowed to ride with Kurik at the rear of the column.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kurik asked.
‘Let’s drop behind a little bit. I want to talk with that beggar boy.’
‘That’s hardly good manners, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said. ‘A meeting of the preceptors of all four orders happens about once in a lifetime, and they’re going to have some questions for you.’
‘We can catch up with them before they get to the chapterhouse.’
‘What do you want to talk to a beggar for?’ Kurik sounded more than a little irritated.
‘He’s working for me.’ Sparhawk gave his friend an appraising look. ‘What’s bothering you, Kurik?’ he asked. ‘Your face looks like a rain cloud.’
‘Never mind,’ Kurik replied shortly.
Talen was still huddled in the angle between two intersecting walls. He had his ragged cloak wrapped about him and he was shivering.
Sparhawk dismounted a few feet from the boy and made some pretence of checking his saddle girth. ‘What did you want to tell me?’ he said quietly.
‘That man you had me watching,’ Talen began. ‘Krager, wasn’t that his name? He left Cimmura about the same time you did, but he came back a week or so later. There was another man with him – a fellow with white hair. It sort of stands out because he’s not really that old. Anyway, they went to the house of that Baron who’s so fond of little boys. They stayed there for several hours, and then they rode out of town again. I got close enough to them at the east gate to hear them talking with the gate guards. When the guard asked their destination, they said they were going to Cammoria.’
‘Good lad,’ Sparhawk congratulated him, dropping a gold crown into the begging bowl.
‘Child’s play,’ Talen shrugged. He bit the coin and then tucked it inside his tunic. ‘Thanks, Sparhawk.’
‘Why didn’t you tell the porter at the inn on Rose Street?’
‘The place is being watched. I decided to play it safe.’ Then Talen looked over the big knight’s shoulder. ‘Hello, Kurik,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you for a long time.’
‘You two know each other?’ Sparhawk was a bit surprised.
Kurik flushed, looking embarrassed.
‘You wouldn’t believe how far back our friendship goes, Sparhawk,’ Talen said with a sly little smile at Kurik.
‘That’s enough, Talen,’ Kurik said sharply. Then his expression softened slightly. ‘How’s your mother?’ he asked. There was a strange, wistful note in his voice.
‘She’s doing quite well, actually. When you add what I make to what you give her from time to time, she’s comfortably off.’
‘Am I missing something here?’ Sparhawk asked mildly.
‘It’s a personal matter, Sparhawk,’ Kurik told him. Then he turned to the boy. ‘What are you doing out here in the streets, Talen?’ he demanded.
‘I’m begging, Kurik. You see?’ Talen held out his bowl. ‘That’s what this is for. Would you like to drop something in for old times’ sake?’
‘I put you in a very good school, boy.’
‘Oh, it was very good indeed. The headmaster used to tell us how good it was three times a day – at mealtimes. He and the other teachers ate roast beef. The students got porridge. I don’t like porridge all that much, so I enrolled in a different school.’ He gestured extravagantly at the street. ‘This is my classroom now. Do you like it? The lessons I learn here are much more useful than rhetoric or philosophy or all that tiresome theology. If I pay attention, I can earn enough to buy my own roast beef – or anything else, for that matter.’
‘I ought to thrash you, Talen,’ Kurik threatened.
‘Why, father,’ the boy replied, wide-eyed, ‘what a thing to suggest.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, you’d have to catch me first. That’s the first lesson I learned in my new school. Would you like to see how well I learned it?’ He took up his crutch and begging bowl and ran off down the street. He was, Sparhawk noted, very fast on his feet.
