‘Elene cities are always quaint, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Elene architects haven’t had a new idea in the last five millennia.’
‘Matherion will open your eyes, Sparhawk. All right, then, Astel’s right on the verge of flying apart. So’s the rest of the world, but Astel’s carrying it to extremes. I’m doing what I can to hold things together, but Alberen’s so pliable that almost anyone can influence him. He’ll literally sign anything anybody puts in front of him. You’ve heard about Ayachin, of course? And his running dog, Sabre?’
Sparhawk nodded.
‘I’ve got every imperial agent in Astel out trying to identify Sabre, but we haven’t had much luck so far. He’s out there blithely dismantling a system the empire spent centuries creating. We don’t really know very much about him.’
‘He’s an adolescent, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk said. ‘No matter what his age, he’s profoundly juvenile.’ He briefly described the incident in the forest.
‘That’s helpful,’ Fontan said. ‘None of my people have ever been able to infiltrate one of those famous meetings, so we had no idea of what sort of fellow we were dealing with. He’s got the nobility completely in his grasp. I stopped Alberen just in time a few weeks ago when he was on the verge of signing a proclamation which would have criminalised a serf if he ran away. That would have brought the kingdom down around our ears, I’m afraid. That’s always been the serf’s final answer to an intolerable situation. If he can run away and stay away for a year and a day, he’s free. If you take that away from the serfs, they’ll revolt, and a serf rebellion is too hideous a notion to even contemplate.’
‘It’s quite deliberate, your Excellency,’ Sparhawk advised him. ‘Sabre’s agitating the serfs as well. He wants a serf rebellion here in Astel. He’s been using his influence over the nobility to persuade them to commit the exact blunders that will outrage the serfs all the more.’
‘What’s the man thinking of?’ Fontan burst out. ‘He’ll drown Astel in blood.’
Sparhawk made an intuitive leap at the point. ‘I don’t think he really cares about Astel, your Excellency. Sabre’s no more than a tool for someone who has his eye on a much bigger goal.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘I’m guessing, your Excellency, but I think there’s somebody out there who wants the whole world, and he’d sacrifice Astel and every living person in it to get what he wants.’
Chapter 12 (#ulink_22e572ad-6b76-5535-96cd-5d6b548b2bef)
‘It’s hard to put your finger on it, Prince Sparhawk,’ Baroness Melidere said that evening after the extended royal family had retired to their oversized apartment for the night. At the queen’s insistence, Melidere, Mirtai and Alean, her maid, had been provided with rooms in the apartment. Ehlana needed women around her for a number of reasons, some practical, some political and some very obscure. The ladies had removed their formal gowns, and, except for Mirtai, they wore soft pastel dressing gowns. Melidere was brushing Mirtai’s wealth of blue-black hair, and the doe-eyed Alean was performing the same service for Ehlana.
‘I’m not sure exactly how to describe it,’ the honey-blonde baroness continued. ‘It’s a sort of generalised sadness. They all sigh a great deal.’
‘I noticed that myself, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana told her husband. ‘Alberen hardly smiles at all, and I can make anybody smile.’
‘Your presence alone is enough to make us all smile, my Queen,’ Talen told her. Talen was the queen’s page, and he was also a member of the extended family. The young thief was elegant tonight, dressed in a plum-coloured velvet doublet and knee-britches in the same shade and fabric. Knee-britches were just coming into fashion, and Ehlana had tried her very best to get Sparhawk into a pair of them. He had categorically refused, and his wife had been obliged to settle for coercing her page into the ridiculous-looking garments.
‘The plan is to make you a knight, Talen,’ Melidere told the boy pointedly, ‘not a courtier.’
‘Stragen says it’s always a good idea to have something to fall back on, Baroness,’ he shrugged, his voice cracking and warbling somewhere between soprano and baritone.
‘He would,’ the baroness sniffed. Melidere affected a strong disapproval of Stragen, but Sparhawk was not so sure about that.
Talen and Princess Danae sat on the floor rolling a ball back and forth between them. Mmrr was participating in the game enthusiastically.
‘They all seem to secretly believe that the world’s going to come to an end week after next,’ the baroness went on, slowly drawing her brush through Mirtai’s hair. ‘They’re all bright and brittle on the surface, but once you get beneath that, there’s the blackest melancholy, and they all drink like fish. I couldn’t prove this, but I really think they all believe they’re going to die very soon.’ She lifted Mirtai’s hair speculatively. ‘I think I’ll braid a gold chain into it, dear,’ she told the giantess.
‘No, Melidere,’ Mirtai said firmly. ‘I’m not entitled to wear gold yet.’
‘Every woman’s entitled to wear gold, Mirtai,’ Melidere laughed, ‘provided that she can charm it out of some man.’
‘Not among my people,’ Mirtai disagreed. ‘Gold is for adults. Children don’t wear it.’
‘You’re hardly a child, Mirtai,’
‘I am until I go through a certain ceremony. Silver, Melidere – or steel.’
‘You can’t make jewellery out of steel.’
‘You can if you polish it enough.’
Melidere sighed. ‘Fetch me the silver chains, Talen,’ she said. At the moment, that was Talen’s function. He fetched things. He didn’t like it very much, but he did it – largely because Mirtai was bigger than he was.
There was a polite knock at the door, and Talen veered over to answer it.
Ambassador Oscagne entered. He bowed to Ehlana. ‘I’ve spoken with Fontan, your Majesty,’ he reported. ‘He’s sending to the garrison at Canae for two Atan legions to escort us to Matherion. I’m sure we’ll all feel more secure with them around us.’
‘What’s a legion, your Excellency?’ Talen asked, crossing the room to the jewellery cabinet.
‘A thousand warriors,’ Oscagne replied. He smiled at Ehlana. ‘With two thousand Atans at your disposal, your Majesty could conquer Edom. Would you like to establish a toe-hold on the Daresian continent? It won’t really be all that inconvenient. We Tamuls will administer it for you – for the usual fee, of course – and we’ll send you glowing reports at the end of each year. The reports will be a tissue of lies, but we’ll send them anyway.’
‘Along with the profits?’ She actually sounded interested.
‘Oh no, your Majesty,’ he laughed. ‘For some reason, not one single kingdom in the whole empire ever shows a profit – except Tamul itself, of course.’
‘Why would I want a kingdom that doesn’t pay?’
‘Prestige, your Majesty, and vanity. You’d have another title and another crown.’
‘I don’t really need another crown, your Excellency. I’ve only got one head. Why don’t we just let the King of Edom keep his unprofitable kingdom?’
‘Probably a wise decision, your Majesty,’ he agreed. ‘Edom’s a tedious sort of place. They grow wheat there, and wheat-farmers are a stodgy group of people all obsessively interested in the weather.’
‘How long is it likely to be until those legions arrive?’ Sparhawk asked him.
‘A week or so. They’ll come on foot, so they’ll make better time than they would on horseback.’
‘Isn’t it the other way around, your Excellency?’ Melidere asked him. ‘I thought horses moved much faster than men on foot.’
Mirtai laughed.
‘Did I say something funny?’ Melidere asked.
‘When I was fourteen, a man down in Daconia insulted me,’ the giantess told her. ‘He was drunk. When he sobered up the next morning, he realised what he’d done and fled on horseback. It was about dawn. I caught up with him just before noon. His horse had died from exhaustion. I always felt sort of sorry for the horse. A trained warrior can run all day. A horse can’t. A horse has to stop when he wants to eat, so he’s not used to running for more than a few hours at a time. We eat while we’re running, so we just keep on going.’
‘What did you do to the fellow who insulted you?’ Talen asked her.
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘Ah – no, Mirtai,’ he replied. ‘Now that you mention it, probably not.’
And so they had a week on their hands. Baroness Melidere devoted her time to breaking hearts. The young noblemen of King Alberen’s court flocked around her. She flirted outrageously, made all sorts of promises – none of which she kept – and occasionally allowed herself to be kissed in dark corners by persistent suitors. She had a great deal of fun and gathered a great deal of information. A young man pursuing a pretty girl will often share secrets with her, secrets which he should probably keep to himself.
To the surprise of Sparhawk and his fellow knights, Sir Berit devastated the young ladies of the court quite nearly as much as the baroness did the young men.
