Sparhawk looked sharply at the golden throne at the front of the chamber. The Archprelate Cluvonus had come awake and was blinking in confusion as he looked around. The old man’s head was wobbling on his stringy neck, and his eyes were bleary.
‘A spirited discussion, Most Holy,’ Dolmant said mildly.
‘Now you’ve gone and woken me up,’ the Archprelate said petulantly, ‘and I was having such a nice dream.’ He reached up, pulled off his mitre, and threw it on the floor. Then he sank back on his throne, pouting.
‘Would the Archprelate care to hear of the matter under discussion?’ Dolmant asked.
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Cluvonus snapped. ‘So there.’ Then he cackled as if his infantile outburst had been some enormous joke. The laughter trailed off and he scowled at them, ‘I want to go back to my room,’ he declared. ‘Get out of here, all of you.’
The Hierocracy rose to its feet and began to file out.
‘You too, Dolmant,’ the Archprelate insisted in a shrill voice. ‘And send Sister Clentis to me. She’s the only one who really cares about me.’
‘As you wish, Most Holy,’ Dolmant said, bowing.
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.’
