him, My Lord. I’ll tell His Grace you’ve arrived.’
Dolmant, Patriarch of Demos, was as lean and severe as always, but his ascetic face actually broke into a broad smile when the Church Knights trooped into his study. ‘You made good time, gentlemen,’ he told them. ‘You all know Emban, of course.’ He indicated his stout fellow Patriarch.
Emban was definitely more than ‘heavy-set’. ‘Your study’s starting to resemble a foundry, Dolmant,’ he chuckled, looking around at the armoured knights. ‘I haven’t seen so much steel in one place in years.’
‘Comforting, though,’ Dolmant said.
‘Oh my, yes.’
‘How do things stand in Cimmura, Vanion?’ Dolmant asked intently.
‘I’m happy to report that Queen Ehlana has recovered and now has her government firmly in her own hands,’ Vanion replied.
‘Thank God!’ Emban exclaimed. ‘I think Annias just went into bankruptcy.’
‘You managed to find the Bhelliom then?’ Dolmant asked Sparhawk.
Sparhawk nodded. ‘Would you like to see it, Your Grace?’ he asked.
‘I don’t believe so, Sparhawk. I’m not supposed to admit its power, but I’ve heard some stories – folklorish superstition no doubt – but let’s not take any chances.’
Sparhawk heaved an inward sigh of relief. He did not much fancy another encounter with that flickering shadow nor the prospect of walking around for several days with the uneasy feeling that someone might be aiming a crossbow at him.
‘It’s peculiar that the news of the queen’s recovery hasn’t reached Annias yet,’ Dolmant observed. ‘At least he’s shown no signs of chagrin so far.’
‘I’d be very surprised if he’s heard of it yet, Your Grace,’ Komier rumbled. ‘Vanion sealed the city to keep the Cimmurans at home. As I understand it, people who try to leave are turned back quite firmly.’
‘You didn’t leave your Pandions there, did you, Vanion?’
‘No, Your Grace. We found assistance elsewhere. How’s the Archprelate?’
‘Dying,’ Emban replied. ‘Of course, he’s been dying for several years, but he’s a little more serious about it this time.’
‘Is Otha making any more moves, Your Grace?’ Darellon asked.
Dolmant shook his head. ‘He’s still encamped just inside the border of Lamorkand. He’s making all kinds of threats and demanding that the mysterious Zemoch treasure be returned to him.’
‘It’s not so mysterious, Dolmant,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘He wants Bhelliom, and he knows Sparhawk has it.’
‘Someone’s bound to suggest that Sparhawk turn it over to him in order to prevent an invasion,’ Emban suggested.
‘That will never happen, Your Grace,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll destroy it first.’
‘Have any of the Patriarchs who were in hiding returned as yet?’ Preceptor Abriel asked.
‘Not a one,’ Emban snorted. ‘They’re probably down the deepest ratholes they can find by now. Two of them had fatal accidents a couple of days ago, and the rest went to ground.’
‘We have knights scouring the city looking for them,’ Preceptor Darellon reported. ‘Even the most timid of rabbits might regain some degree of courage if they’re protected by Church Knights.’
‘Darellon,’ Dolmant said reproachfully.
‘Sorry, Your Grace,’ Darellon said perfunctorily.
‘Will that change the numbers?’ Komier asked Talen. ‘The two that died, I mean?’
‘No, My Lord,’ Talen said. ‘We weren’t counting them anyway.’
Dolmant looked puzzled.
‘The lad has a gift for figures,’ Komier explained. ‘He can compute things in his head faster than I can with a pencil.’
‘Sometimes you amaze me, Talen,’ Dolmant said. ‘Could I perhaps interest you in a career in the Church?’
‘Counting the contributions of the faithful, Your Grace?’ Talen asked eagerly.
‘Ah – no, I don’t think so, Talen.’
‘Have the votes changed at all, Your Grace?’ Abriel asked.
Dolmant shook his head. ‘Annias still has a simple majority. He can bull through anything that isn’t a matter of substance. His toadies are calling for votes on just about anything that comes up. He wants to keep a running count for one thing, and the voting keeps us all locked in the audience chamber.’
‘The numbers are about to change, Your Grace,’ Komier said. ‘My friends and I have decided to participate this time.’
‘Now that’s unusual,’ Patriarch Emban said. ‘The Preceptors of the militant orders haven’t participated in a vote of the Hierocracy for two hundred years.’
‘We’re still welcome, aren’t we, Your Grace?’
‘As far as I’m concerned you are, Your Grace. Annias might not like it too much, though.’
‘How very unfortunate for him. What does that do to the numbers, Talen?’
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