Part 20 (1/2)

'Are there any topics I should avoid, your Grace?' Sparhawk asked. 'I'm not familiar with the Church of Astel, and I don't want to start any theological debates.'

'Our disagreements with the Astels are in the field of Church government, Sparhawk. Our purely theological differences are very minor. We have a secular clergy, but their Church is monastically organised. Our priests are just priests, theirs are also monks. I'll grant you that it's a fine distinction, but it's a distinction nonetheless. They also have many, many more priests and monks than we do-probably about a tenth of the population.'

'That many?'

'Oh, yes. Every n.o.ble mansion in Astel has its own private chapel and its own priest, and the priest 'a.s.sists' in making decisions.'

'Where do they find so many men willing to enter the priesthood?'

'From the ranks of the serfs. Being a clergyman has its drawbacks, but it's better than being a serf.'

'I suppose the Church would be preferable.'

'Much. Morsel will respect you, because you're a member of a religious order. Oh, incidentally, since you're the interim preceptor of the Pandion Knights, you're technically a patriarch. Don't be surprised if he addresses you as 'your Grace.'

They were admitted into Morsel's chambers by a long-bearded monk. Sparhawk had noticed that all Astellian clergymen wore beards. The room was small and panelled in dark wood. The carpet was a deep maroon, and the heavy drapes at the windows were black. There were books and scrolls and dog-eared sheets of parchment everywhere.

'Ah, Emban,' Morsel said. 'What have you been up to?'

'Mischief, Morsel. I've been out proselytising among the heathens.'

'Really? Where did you find any here? I thought most heathens lived in the Basilica in Chyrellos. Sit down, gentlemen. I'll send for some wine and we can debate theology.'

'You've met Sparhawk?' Emban asked as they all took chairs before an open window where the breeze billowed the black drapes.

'Briefly,' Morsel replied. 'How are you today, your Highness?'

'Well. And you, your Grace?'

'Curious, more than anything. Why are we engaging in private consultations?'

'We're all clergymen, your Grace,' Emban pointed out. 'Sparhawk wears a ca.s.sock made of steel most of the time, but he is of the clergy. We've come to discuss something that probably concerns you as much as it does us. I think I know you well enough to know that you've got a practical side that's not going to get sidetracked by the fact that you think we genuflect wrong.'

'What's this?' Sparhawk asked.

'We kneel on our right knee,' Emban shrugged. 'These poor, benighted heathens kneel on the left.'

'Shocking,' Sparhawk murmured. 'Do you think we should come here in force and compel them to do it right?'

'You see?' Emban said to the Archimandrite. 'That's exactly what I was talking about. You should fall to your knees and thank G.o.d that you're not saddled with Church Knights, Morsel. I think most of them secretly wors.h.i.+p Styric G.o.ds.'

'Only the Younger G.o.ds, your Grace,' Sparhawk said mildly. 'We've had our differences with the Elder G.o.ds.'

'He says it so casually,' Morsel shuddered. 'If you think we've exhausted the conversational potential of genuflectory variation, Emban, why don't you get to the point?'

'This is in strictest confidence, your Grace, but our mission here to Tamuli's not entirely what it seems. It was Queen Ehlana's idea, of course. She's not the sort to go anywhere just because somebody tells her to-but all of this elaborate fol-de-rol was just a subterfuge to hide our real purpose, which was to put Sparhawk on the Daresian Continent. The world's coming apart at the seams, so we've decided to let him fix it.'

'I thought that was G.o.d's job.'

'G.o.d's busy just now, and He's got complete confidence in Sparhawk. All sorts of G.o.ds feel that way about him, I understand.' Morsel's eyes widened, and his beard bristled. 'Relax, Morsel,' Emban told him. 'We of the Church are not required to believe in other G.o.ds. All we'have to do is make a few allowances for their speculative existence.'

'Oh, that's different. If this is speculation, I suppose it's all right.'

'There's one thing that isn't speculation, your Grace,' Sparhawk said. 'You've got trouble here in Astel.'

'You've noticed. Your Highness is very perceptive.'

'You may not have been advised, since the Tamuls are trying to keep it on a low key, but very similar things are afoot in many other Daresian kingdoms, and we're beginning to encounter the same sort of problem in Eosia.'

'I think the Tamuls sometimes keep secrets just for the fun of it,' Morsel grunted.

'I have a friend who says the same thing about our Eosian Church,' Sparhawk said cautiously. They had not yet fully explored the Archimandrite's political opinions. A wrong word or two here would not only preclude any possibility of obtaining his help, but might even compromise their mission.

'Knowledge is power,' Emban said rather sententiously, 'and only a fool shares power if he doesn't have to. Let me be blunt, Morsel. What's your opinion of the Tamuls?'

'I don't like them.' Morsel's response was to the point. 'They're heathens, they're members of an alien race, and you can't tell what they're thinking.' Sparhawk's heart sank. 'I have to admit, though, that when they absorbed Astel into their empire, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. Whether we like them or not is beside the point. Their pa.s.sion for order and stability has averted war time and time again in my own lifetime. There have been other empires in ages past, and their time of ascendancy was a time of unmitigated horror and suffering. I think we'll candidly have to admit that the Tamuls are history's finest imperialists. They don't interfere with local customs or religions. They don't disrupt the social structure, and they function through the established governments. Their taxes, however much we complain about them, are really minimal. They build good roads and encourage trade. Aside from that, they generally leave us alone. About all they really insist upon is that we don't go to war with each other. I can live with that-although some of my predecessors felt dreadfully abused because the Tamuls wouldn't let them convert their neighbours by the sword.' Sparhawk breathed a little easier. 'But I'm straying from the point here,' Morsel said. 'You were suggesting a world-wide conspiracy of some kind, I think.'

'Were we suggesting that, Sparhawk?' Emban asked.

'I suppose we were, your Grace.'

'Do you have anything concrete upon which to base this theory, Sir Sparhawk?' Morsel asked.

'Logic is about all, your Grace.'

'I'll listen to logic-as long as she doesn't contradict my beliefs.'

'If a series of events happens in one place and it's identical to a series of events taking place in another, we're justified in considering the possibility of a common source, wouldn't you say?'

'On an interim basis, perhaps.'

'It's about all we have to work with at the moment, your Grace. The same sort of thing could happen at the same time in two different places and still be a coincidence, but when you get up to five or ten different occurrences, coincidence sort of goes out the window. This current upheaval involving Ayachin and the one they call Sabre here in Astel is almost exactly duplicated in the kingdom of Lamorkand in Eosia, and Amba.s.sador Oscagne a.s.sures us that the same sort of thing's erupting in other Daresian kingdoms as well. It's always the same. First there are the rumours that some towering hero of antiquity has somehow returned. Then some firebrand emerges to keep things stirred up. Here in Astel, you've got the wild stories about Ayachin. In Lamorkand, they talk about Drychtnath. Here you have a man named Sabre, and in Lamorkand they've got one named Gerrich. I'm fairly sure we'll find the same sort of thing in Edam, Daconia, Arjuna and Cynesga. Oscagne tells us that their national heroes are putting in an appearance as well.' Sparhawk rather carefully avoided mentioning Krager. He was still not entirely certain where Morsel's sympathies lay.

'You build a good case, Sparhawk,' Morsel conceded. 'But couldn't this master plot be directed at the Tamuls? They aren't widely loved, you know.'

'I think your Grace is overlooking Lamorkand,' Emban said. 'There aren't any Tamuls there. I'm guessing, but I'd say that the master plot-if that's what we want to call it-is directed at the Church in Eosia as opposed to the empire here.'

'Organised anarchy perhaps?'

'I believe that's a contradiction in terms, your Grace,' Sparhawk pointed out. 'I'm not sure that we're far enough along to deal with causes yet, though. Right now we're trying to sort through effects. If we're correct in a.s.suming that this plot is all coming from the same person, then what we're seeing is someone who's got a wric plan with common elements which he modifies to fit each particular culture. What we really want to do is to identify this Sabre fellow.'

'So that you can have him killed?' Morsel's tone was accusing.

'No, your Grace, that wouldn't be practical. If we kill him, he'll be replaced by someone else-somebody we don't know. I want to know who he is, and what he is and everything I can possibly find out about him. I want to know how he thinks, what drives him and what his personal motivations are. If I know all of that, I can neutralise him without killing him. To be completely honest with you, I don't really care about Sabre. I want the one who's behind him.'

Morsel seemed shaken. 'This is a dreadful man, Emban,' he said in a hushed tone.