‘If that’s the way we have to do it, then that’s the way we’ll do it,’ Sparhawk said.
‘Be careful out there,’ the abbot cautioned seriously. ‘The Rendors are in a state of turmoil right now.’
‘They’re always in a state of turmoil, my Lord.’
‘This is a bit different. Arasham’s at Dabour preaching up a new holy war.’
‘He’s been doing that for over twenty years now, hasn’t he? He stirs up the desert people all winter, and then in the summer they go back to their flocks.’
‘That’s what’s different about this time, Sparhawk. Nobody pays much attention to the nomads, but somehow the old lunatic’s beginning to sway the people who live in the cities, and that makes it a little more serious. Arasham’s elated, of course, and he’s holding his desert nomads firmly at Dabour. He’s got quite an army.’
‘The city people in Rendor aren’t all that stupid. What’s impressing them so much?’
‘I’ve heard that there are some people spreading rumours. They’re telling the townsfolk that there’s a great deal of sympathy for the resurgence of the Eshandist movement in the northern kingdoms.’
‘That’s absurd,’ Sparhawk scoffed.
‘Of course it is, but they’ve managed to persuade a fair number of people here in Cippria that for the first time in centuries a rebellion against the Church might have some chance of success. Not only that, there have been fairly large shipments of arms filtered into the country.’
A suspicion began to grow in Sparhawk’s mind. ‘Have you any idea who’s been circulating these rumours?’ he asked.
The abbot shrugged. ‘Merchants, travellers from the north, and the like. They’re all foreigners. They usually stay in that quarter near the Elenian consulate.’
‘Isn’t that curious?’ Sparhawk mused. ‘I’d been summoned to the Elenian consulate that night when I was attacked in the street. Is Elius still the consul?’
‘Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he is. What are you getting at, Sparhawk?’
‘One more question, my Lord. Have your people by any chance seen a white-haired man going in and out of the consulate?’
‘I couldn’t really say. I didn’t tell them to look for that sort of thing. You have someone particular in mind, I gather?’
‘Oh, I do indeed, my Lord Abbot.’ Sparhawk rose and began to pace up and down. ‘Why don’t I have another try at Elene logic, Sephrenia,’ he said. He began to tick items off on his fingers. ‘One: The Primate Annias aspires to the Archprelate’s throne. Two: All four militant orders oppose him, and their opposition could block his ambitions. Three: In order to get that throne, he must discredit or divert the Church Knights. Four: The Elenian consul here in Cippria is his cousin. Five: The consul and Martel have had dealings with each other before. I got some personal evidence of that ten years ago.’
‘I didn’t know that Elius was related to the primate,’ the abbot said, looking a bit surprised.
‘They don’t make an issue of it,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Now then,’ he continued, ‘Annias wants the Church Knights out of Chyrellos when the time comes to elect a new Archprelate. What would the Church Knights do if there were an uprising here in Rendor?’
‘We’d descend on the kingdom in full battle array,’ the abbot declared, forgetting that his choice of words clearly confirmed Sparhawk’s suspicions about the nature of his order.
‘And that would effectively remove the militant orders from the debate over the election in Chyrellos, wouldn’t it?’
Sephrenia looked at Sparhawk speculatively. ‘What kind of man is this Elius?’
‘He’s a petty time-server with little intelligence and less imagination.’
‘He doesn’t sound very impressive.’
‘He isn’t.’
‘Then someone else would have to be giving him instructions, wouldn’t they?’
‘Precisely.’ Sparhawk turned once more to the abbot. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘do you have any way to get messages to Preceptor Abriel at your motherhouse in Larium? Messages that can’t be intercepted?’
The abbot gave him a frosty stare.
‘We agreed to be frank with each other, my Lord,’ Sparhawk reminded him. ‘I’m not trying to embarrass you, but this is a matter of the greatest urgency.’
‘All right, Sparhawk,’ the abbot replied a bit stiffly. ‘Yes, I can get a message to Lord Abriel.’
‘Good. Sephrenia knows all the details and she can fill you in. Kurik and I have something to attend to.’
‘Just what are you planning?’ the abbot demanded.
‘I’m going to pay a call on Elius. He knows what’s been going on, and I think I can persuade him to share the information. We need confirmation of all this before you send the message to Larium.’
‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘Not as dangerous as having Annias in the Archprelacy, is it?’ Sparhawk considered it. ‘Do you happen to have a secure cell someplace?’ he asked.
‘We have a penitent’s cell down in the cellar. The door can be locked, I suppose.’
‘Good. I think we’ll bring Elius back here to question him. Then you can lock him up. I can’t let him go, once he knows I’m here, and Sephrenia disapproves of random murders. If he just disappears, there’ll be some uncertainty about what happened to him.’
‘Won’t he make an outcry when you take him captive?’
‘Not very likely, my Lord,’ Kurik assured him, drawing his heavy dagger. He slapped the hilt solidly against his palm. ‘I can practically guarantee that he’ll be asleep.’
The streets were quiet. The overcast which had obscured the sky that afternoon had cleared, and the stars were very bright overhead.
‘No moon,’ Kurik said quietly as he and Sparhawk crept through the deserted streets. ‘That’s a help.’
‘It’s been rising late the past three nights,’ Sparhawk said.
‘How late?’
‘We’ve got a couple more hours.’
‘Can we make it back to the monastery by then?’
‘We have to.’ Sparhawk stopped just before they reached an intersection and peered around the corner of a house. A man wearing a short cape and carrying a spear and a small lantern was shuffling sleepily along the street. ‘Watchman,’ Sparhawk breathed, and he and Kurik stepped into the shadows of a deeply recessed doorway.
The watchman plodded on past, the lantern swinging from his hand casting looming shadows against the walls of the buildings.
‘He should be more alert,’ Kurik growled disapprovingly.
‘Under the circumstances your sense of what’s proper might be a little misplaced.’
‘Right is right, Sparhawk,’ Kurik replied stubbornly.
After the watchman was out of sight, they crept on up the street.
‘Are we just going to walk up to the gate of the consulate?’ Kurik asked.
‘No. When we get close to it, we’ll go in over the roof tops.’
‘I’m not a cat, Sparhawk. Leaping from roof to roof isn’t my idea of entertainment.’
‘The houses are all built up against each other in that part of town. The roof