Monsel leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. ‘The Tamuls have no real conception of how powerful the Church is in the Elene kingdoms here in Western Daresia,’ he began. ‘In the first place, their religion’s hardly more than a set of ceremonies. Tamuls don’t even think about religion, so they can’t understand the depth of the faith in the hearts of the devout – and the serfs of Astel are quite likely the most devout people on earth. They take all of their problems to their priests – and not only their, own problems, but their neighbours’ as well. The serfs are everywhere and they see everything, and they tell their priests.’
‘I think it was called tale-bearing when I was in the seminary,’ Emban noted.
‘We had a worse name for it during our novitiate,’ Sparhawk added. ‘All sorts of unpleasant accidents used to happen on the training-field because of it.’
‘Nobody likes a snitch,’ Monsel agreed, ‘but like it or not, the Astellian clergy knows everything that happens in the kingdom – literally everything. We’re sworn to keep these secrets, of course, but we feel that our primary responsibility is to the spiritual health of our flock. Since a large proportion of our priests were originally serfs, they simply don’t have the theological training to deal with complex spiritual problems. We’ve devised a way to provide them with the advice they need. The serf-priests do not reveal the names of those who have come to them, but they do take serious matters to their superiors, and their superiors bring those matters to me.’
‘I have no real difficulty with that,’ Emban said. ‘As long as the names are kept secret, the confidentiality hasn’t been violated.’
‘We’ll get on well together, Emban.’ Monsel smiled briefly. ‘The serfs look upon Sabre as a liberator.’
‘So we gathered,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘There seems to be a certain lack of consistency in his speeches, though. He tells the nobles that Ayachin wants to throw off the Tamul yoke, and then he tells the serfs that Ayachin’s real goal is the abolition of serfdom. Moreover, he’s persuaded the nobles to become very brutal in their dealings with the serfs. That’s not only disgusting, it’s irrational. The nobles should be trying to enlist the serfs, not alienate them. Viewed realistically, Sabre’s no more than an agitator, and he’s not even particularly subtle. He’s a political adolescent.’
‘That’s going a little far, Sparhawk,’ Emban protested. ‘How do you account for his success then? An idiot like that could never persuade the Astels to accept his word.’
‘They’re not accepting his word. They’re accepting Ayachin’s.’
‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Sparhawk?’
‘No, your Grace. I mentioned before that someone on the other side’s been using magic. This is what I was talking about. The people here have actually been seeing Ayachin himself.’
‘That’s absurd!’ Monsel seemed profoundly disturbed.
Sparhawk sighed. ‘For the sake of your Grace’s theological comfort, let’s call it some kind of hallucination – a mass illusion created by a clever charlatan, or some accomplice dressed in archaic clothing who appears suddenly in some spectacular fashion. Whatever its source, if what’s happening here is anything like what’s happening in Lamorkand, your people are absolutely convinced that Ayachin’s returned from the grave. Sabre probably makes a speech – a rambling collection of disconnected platitudes – and then this hallucination appears in a flash of light and a clap of thunder and confirms all his pronouncements. That’s a guess, of course, but it’s probably not too far off the mark.’
‘It’s an elaborate hoax then?’
‘If that’s what you want to believe, your Grace.’
‘But you don’t believe it’s a hoax, do you Sparhawk?’
‘I’ve been trained not to actively disbelieve things, your Grace. Whether the apparition of Ayachin is real or some trick is beside the point. It’s what the people believe that’s important, and I’m sure they believe that Ayachin’s returned and that Sabre speaks for him. That’s what makes Sabre so dangerous. With the apparition to support him, he can make people believe anything. That’s why I have to find out everything about him that I can. I have to be able to know what he’s going to do so that I can counter him.’
‘I’m going to behave as if I believe what you’ve just told me, Sparhawk,’ Monsel said in a troubled voice. ‘I really think you need some spiritual help, though.’ His face grew grave. ‘We know who Sabre is,’ he said finally. ‘We’ve known for over a year now. At first we believed as you do – that he was no more than a disturbed fanatic with a taste for melodrama. We expected the Tamuls to deal with him, so we didn’t think we had to do anything ourselves. I’ve had some second thoughts on that score of late, though. On the condition that neither of you will reveal anything I say except to another clergyman, I’ll tell you who he is. Do I have your word on that condition?’
‘You have, your Grace,’ Emban swore.
‘And you, Sparhawk?’
‘Of course.’
‘Very well, then. Sabre’s the younger brother-in-law of a minor nobleman who has an estate a few leagues to the east of Esos.’
It all fell into place in Sparhawk’s mind with a loud clank.
‘The nobleman is a Baron Kotyk, a silly, ineffectual ass,’ Monsel told them. ‘And you were quite right, Sparhawk. Sabre’s a melodramatic adolescent named Elron.’
Chapter 13 (#ulink_c3b70872-c602-51db-8747-273c1de78c03)
‘That’s impossible!’ Sparhawk exclaimed.
Monsel was taken aback by his sudden vehemence. ‘We have more than ample evidence, Sir Sparhawk. The serf who reported the fact has known him since childhood. You’ve met Elron, I gather.’
‘We took shelter from a storm in Baron Kotyk’s house,’ Emban explained. ‘Elron could be Sabre, you know, Sparhawk. He’s certainly got the right kind of mentality. Why are you so certain he’s not the one?’
‘He couldn’t have caught up with us,’ Sparhawk said lamely.
Monsel looked baffled.
‘We saw Sabre in the woods on our way here,’ Emban told him. ‘It was the sort of thing you’d expect – a masked man in black on a black horse outlined against the sky – silliest thing I ever saw. We weren’t really moving all that fast, Sparhawk. Elron could have caught up with us quite easily.’
Sparhawk could not tell him that they had, in fact, been moving far too rapidly for anyone to have caught them – not with Aphrael tampering with time and distance the way she had been. He choked back his objections. ‘It just surprised me, that’s all,’ he lied. ‘Stragen and I spoke with Elron the night we were there. I can’t believe he’d be out stirring up the serfs. He had nothing but contempt for them.’
‘A pose, perhaps?’ Monsel suggested. ‘Something to conceal his real feelings?’
‘I don’t think he’s capable of that, your Grace. He was too ingenuous for that kind of subtlety.’
‘Don’t be too quick to make judgements, Sparhawk,’ Emban told him. ‘If there’s magic involved, it wouldn’t make any difference what kind of man Sabre is, would it? Isn’t there some way he could be rather tightly controlled?’
‘Several, actually,’ Sparhawk admitted.
‘I’m a little surprised you didn’t consider that yourself. You’re the expert on magic. Elron’s personal beliefs are probably beside the point. When he’s speaking as Sabre, it’s the man behind him – our real adversary – who’s talking.’
‘I should have thought of that.’ Sparhawk was angry with himself for having overlooked the obvious – and the equally obvious explanation for Elron’s ability to overtake them. Another God could certainly compress time and distance the same way Aphrael could. ‘Just how widespread is this contempt for the serfs, your Grace?’ he asked Monsel.
‘Unfortunately, it’s almost universal, Prince Sparhawk,’ Monsel sighed. ‘The serfs are uneducated and superstitious, but they’re not nearly as stupid as the nobility would like to believe. The reports I’ve received tell me that Sabre spends almost as much time denouncing the serfs as he does the Tamuls when he’s speaking to the nobility. “Lazy” is about the kindest thing he says about them. He’s managed to half-persuade the gentry that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls in some vast, dark plot with its ultimate goal being the emancipation of the serfs and the redistribution of the land. The nobles are responding predictably. First they were goaded into hating the Tamuls, and then they were led to believe that the serfs are in league with the Tamuls and that their estates and positions are threatened by that alliance. They don’t dare confront the Tamuls directly because of the Atans, so they’re venting their hostility on their own serfs. There have been incidents of unprovoked savagery upon a class of people who will march en masse into heaven at the final judgement. The Church is doing what she can, but there’s only so far we can go in restraining the gentry.’
‘You need some Church Knights, your Grace,’ Sparhawk said in a bleak tone of voice. ‘We’re very good in the field of justice. If you take a nobleman’s knout away from him and apply it to his own back a few times, he tends to see the light very quickly.’
‘I wish that were possible here in Astel, Sir Sparhawk,’ Monsel replied sadly. ‘Unfortunately -’
It was the same chill, and that same annoying flicker at the edge of the eye. Monsel broke off and looked around quickly, trying to see what could not really be seen. ‘What –?’ he started.
‘It’s a visitation, your Grace,’ Emban told him, his voice tense. ‘Don’t dislocate your neck trying to catch a glimpse of it.’ He raised his voice slightly. ‘Awfully good to see you again, old boy,’ he said. ‘We were beginning to think you’d forgotten about us. Was there something you wanted in particular? Or were you just yearning for our company? We’re flattered, of course, but we’re a little busy at the moment. Why don’t you run along and play now? We can chat some other time.’
The chill quite suddenly turned hot, and the flicker darkened.
‘Are you insane, Emban?’ Sparhawk choked.
‘I don’t think so,’ the fat little Patriarch said. ‘Your flickering friend – or friends – are irritating me, that’s all.’
The shadow vanished, and the air around them returned to normal.
‘What was that all about?’ Monsel demanded.
‘The Patriarch of Ucera just insulted a God – several Gods, probably,’ Sparhawk replied through clenched teeth. ‘For a moment there, we all hovered on the brink of obliteration. Please don’t do that again, Emban – at least not without consulting me first.’ He suddenly laughed a bit sheepishly. ‘Now I know exactly how Sephrenia felt on any number of occasions. I’ll have to apologise to her the next time I see her.’
Emban was grinning with delight. ‘I sort of caught them off balance there, didn’t I?’
