‘Looks to me as if they’re expecting trouble,’ Kalten noted as they started up the broad marble stairs.
When they entered the vast nave of the church, Bevier went down on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.
The captain and a squad of his soldiers entered behind him. ‘We must not keep the Patriarch waiting,’ he said. There was a certain arrogant tone in his voice that irritated Sparhawk for some reason. He muffled that feeling, however, and piously dropped to his knees beside Bevier. Kalten grinned and also knelt. Tynian nudged Ulath, and they, too, went down on their knees.
‘I said –’ the captain began, his voice rising slightly.
‘We heard you, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said to him. ‘We’ll be with you presently.’
‘But –’
‘You can wait over there. We won’t be too long.’
The captain turned and stalked off.
‘Nice touch, Sparhawk,’ Tynian murmured.
‘We are Church Knights, after all,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It won’t hurt Makova to wait awhile. I’m sure he’ll enjoy the anticipation.’
‘I’m sure,’ Tynian agreed.
The five knights remained kneeling for perhaps ten minutes while the captain stalked about impatiently.
‘Have you finished, Bevier?’ Sparhawk asked politely when the Cyrinic unclasped his hands.
‘Yes,’ Bevier answered, his face alight with devotion. ‘I feel cleansed now and at peace with the world.’
‘Try to hang onto that feeling. The Patriarch of Coombe is likely to irritate us all.’ Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘Shall we go then?’
‘Well, finally,’ the captain snapped as they joined him and his men.
Bevier looked at him coldly. ‘Have you any rank, Captain?’ he asked. ‘Aside from your military one, I mean?’
‘I am a marquis, Sir Bevier.’
‘Excellent. If our devotions offend you, I will be more than happy to give you satisfaction. You may have your seconds call upon me at any time. I will be at your complete disposal.’
The captain paled visibly and shrank back. ‘I am merely following my orders, my Lord. I would not dream of giving offence to a Knight of the Church.’
‘Ah,’ Bevier said distantly. ‘Let us proceed then. As you stated so excellently earlier, we must not keep the Patriarch of Coombe waiting.’
The captain led them to a hallway branching out from the nave.
‘Nicely done, Bevier,’ Tynian whispered.
The Cyrinic smiled briefly.
‘There’s nothing like the offer of a yard or so of steel in his belly to remind a man of his manners,’ Kalten added.
The chamber to which the captain led them was grandiose with deep maroon carpeting and drapes and polished marble walls. The lean-faced Patriarch of Coombe sat at a long table reading a parchment. He looked up as they were admitted, his face angry. ‘What took so long?’ he snapped at the captain.
‘The Knights of the Church felt obliged to spend a few moments in devotions before the main altar, your Grace.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
‘May I withdraw, your Grace?’
‘No. Stay. It shall fall to you to enforce the dictates I will issue here.’
‘As it please your Grace.’
Makova then looked sternly at the knights. ‘I am told that you gentlemen are planning a foray into Cammoria,’ he said.
‘We haven’t made any secret of it, your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied.
‘I forbid it.’
‘Might one ask why, your Grace?’ Tynian asked mildly.
‘No. One may not. The Church Knights are subject to the authority of the Hierocracy. Explanations are not required. You are all to return to the Pandion chapterhouse and you will remain there until it pleases me to send you further instructions.’ He smiled a chill smile. ‘I believe you will all be returning home very shortly.’ Then he drew himself up. ‘That will be all. You have my permission to withdraw. Captain, you will see to it that these knights do not leave the Pandion chapterhouse.’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
They all bowed and silently filed out of the door.
‘That was short, wasn’t it?’ Kalten said as they went back down the corridor with the captain some distance in the lead.
‘There wasn’t much point in fogging the issue with lame excuses,’ Sparhawk replied.
Kalten leaned towards his friend. ‘Are we going to obey his orders?’ he whispered.
‘No.’
‘Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier gasped, ‘surely you would not disregard the commands of a Patriarch of the Church?’
‘No, not really. All I need is a different set of orders.’
‘Dolmant?’ Kalten guessed.
‘His name does sort of leap to mind, doesn’t it?’
They had, however, no opportunity for side trips. The officious captain insisted upon escorting them directly back to the chapterhouse. ‘Sir Sparhawk,’ he said as they reached the narrow street where the house stood, ‘you will be so good as to advise the governor of your establishment that this gate is to remain closed. No one is to enter or leave.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ Sparhawk replied. Then he nudged Faran and rode on into the courtyard.
‘I didn’t think he’d actually seal the gate,’ Kalten muttered. ‘How are we going to get word to Dolmant?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Sparhawk said.
