"It could be quite some time before we come to another
town with a market-place. I'll need some money.'
Even that could not dampen Sparhawk's elation.
They spent the rest of the day quietly and retired early
that evening.
Sparhawk lay in his bed staring up into the darkness. It
was going to be all right, he was sure of that now. Ghasek
was a long distance away, but if Berd had been right
about the thoroughness of the count's research, he
would have the answer they needed. Then all that would
remain for them to do would be to go to the place where
Sarak was buried and recover his crown. Then they
hopefully would return to Cimura with Bhelliom and There
was a light tap on his door. He rose and opened
it.
It was Sephrenia. Her face was ashen grey, and there
were tears streaming down her cheeks. 'Please, come
with me, Sparhawk,' she said. "I cannot face them alone
any more.'
'Face whom?'
"Just come with me. I'm hoping that I'm wrong, but I'm
afraid I'm not. ' She led him down the hall and opened the
room she shared with flute, and once again Sparhawk
smelled the familiar graveyard reek. flute sat on the bed,
her little face grave, but her eyes unafraid. She was
looking at a shadowy figure in black armour. Then the
figure turned, and Sparhawk saw the scarred face.
'Olven,' he said in a stricken voice.
The ghost of SIr Olven did not reply but simply
extended its hands with its sword lying across them.
Sephrenia was weeping openly as she stepped forward
to receive the sword.
The ghost looked at Sparhawk and raised one hand in a
kind of half-salute.
And then it vanished.
*Chapter12
Their mood was very bleak the following morning as
they saddled their horses in the pre-dawn darkness.
'Was he a good friend?' Ulath asked, heaving Kalten's
saddle up onto the back of the blond Pandion's horse.
'One of the best,' Sparhawk answered. 'He never said
very much, but you always knew you could depend on
him. I'm going to miss him.'
'What are we going to do about those Zemochs
following us?' Kalten asked.
"I don't think there's much we can do,' Sparhawk
replied. 'We're a little under-strength until you and
Tynian and Bevier recover. As long as all they're doing is
trailing along behind us, they're not much of a problem.'
"I think I've told you before that I don't like having
enemies behind me,' Ulath said.
"I'd rather have them behind me where I can keep an
eye on them instead of hiding in ambush somewhere
ahead,' Sparhawk said.
Kalten winced as he pulled his saddle cinch tight.
That's going to get aggravating,' he noted, laying one
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hand gently against his side.
'You'll heal,' Sparhawk told him. 'You always do.'
'The only problem is that it takes longer to heal every
time. We're not getting any younger, Sparhawk. Is
Bevier going to be all right to ride?'
'As long as we don't push him,' Sparhawk replied.
'Tynian's better, but we'll take it slowly for the first day or
so. I'm going to put Sephrenia in the wagon. Every time
she gets another of those swords, she gets a little weaker.
She's carrying more than she's willing to let us know
about.'
Kurik led the rest of the horses out into the yard. He
was wearing his customary black leather vest. 'I suppose
I should give Bevier his armour back,' he said hopefully.
'Keep it for the time being,' Sparhawk disagreed. 'I
don't want him to start feeling brave just yet. He's a little
headstrong. Let's not encourage him until we're sure
he's all right.'
'This is very uncomfortable, Sparhawk,' Kurik said.
'I explained the reasons to you the other day.'
"I'm not talking about reasons. Bevier and I are close to
the same size, but there are differences. I've got raw
places all over me.'
"It's probably only for a couple more days.'
"I'll be a cripple by then.'
Berit assisted Sephrenia out through the door of the
inn. He helped her up into the wagon and then lifted
Flute up beside her. The small Styric woman was wanlooking,
and she cradled Olven's sword gently, almost as
one would carry a baby.
'Are you going to be all right?' Sparhawk asked her.
"I just need some time to get used to it, that's all,' she
replied.
Talen led his horse out of the stable.
"Just tie him on behind the wagon,' Sparhawk told the
boy. 'You'll be driving.'
'Whatever you say, Sparhawk,' Talen agreed.
'No arguments?' Sparhawk was a little surprised.
'Why should I argue? I can see the reason for it
Besides, that wagon seat's more comfortable than my
saddle - much more comfortable, when you get right
down to it.'
Tynian and Bevier came out of the inn. Both wore
mail-shirts and walked a bit slowly.
'No armour?' Ulath asked Tynian lightly.
"It's heavy,' Tynian replied. "I'm not sure I'm up to it
just yet.'
'Are you sure we didn't leave anything behind?'
Sparhawk asked Kurik.
Kurik gave him a flat, unfriendly stare.
"just asking,' Sparhawk said mildly. 'Don't get irritable
this early in the morning.' He looked at the others. 'We're
not going to push today,' he told them. "I'll be satisfied
with five leagues, if we can manage it.'
"you're saddled with a group of cripples, Sparhawk,'
Tinian said. 'Wouldn't it be better if you and Ulath went
on ahead? The rest of us can catch up with you later.'
'No,' Sparhawk decided. 'There are unfriendly peeple
about, and you and the others aren't in any
condition to defend yourselves just yet.' He smiled
briefly at Sephrenia. 'Besides,' he added, 'we're supposed
to be ten. I wouldn't want to offend the Younger
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Gods.'
They helped Kalten, Tynian and Bevier to mount and
then rode slowly out of the innyard into the still-dark and
largely deserted streets of Paler. They proceeded at a
walk to the north gate, and the gate guards hurriedly
opened it for them.
'Bless you, my children,' Kalten said grandly to them
as,he rode through.
'Did you have to do that?' Sparhawk asked him.
"It's cheaper than giving them money. Besides, who
knows? My blessing might actually be worth something.'
"I think he's going to get better,' Kurik said.
'Not if he keeps that up, he won't,' Sparhawk
disagreed.
The sky to the east was growing lighter, and they
moved at an easy pace along the road that ran northwesterly
from Paler to Lake Venne. The land lying
between the two lakes was rolling and given over largely
&nb
sp; to the growing of grain. Grand estates dotted the
countryside, and here and there were villages of the log
huts of the serfs. Serfdom had been abolished in western
Eosia centuries before, but it still persisted here in
Pelosia, since, as best Sparhawk could tell, the Pelosian
nobility lacked the administrative skills to make any
other system work. They saw a few of those nobles,
usually in bright satin doublets, supervising the work of
the linen-shirted serfs from the linen-shirted serfs from horseback. Despite
everything
Sparhawk had heard of the evils of serfdom, the
workers in the fields seemed well-fed and not particularly
mistreated.
Berit was riding several hundred yards to the rear, and
he kept turning in his saddle to look back.
'He's going to wrench my armour completely askew if
he keeps doing that,' Kalten said critically.
'We can always stop by a smith and have it re-taylored
for you,' Sparhawk said. 'Maybe we could have some of
the seams let out at the same time, since you're so bent on
stuffing Yourself full of food every chance you get.'
'You're in a foul humour this morning, Sparhawk.'
"I've got a lot on my mind.'
"Some people are just not suited for command,' Kalten
observed grandly to the others. 'My ugly friend here
seems to be one of them. He worries too much.'
'Do you want to do this?' Sparhawk asked flatly.
'Me? Be serious, Sparhawk. I couldn't even herd
geese, much less direct a body of knights.'
'Then would you like to shut up and let me do it?'
Berit rode forward, his eyes narrowed and his hand
slipping his axe up and down in the sling at the side of his
saddle. 'The Zemochs are back there, Sir Sparhawk,' he
said. "I keep catching glimpses of them.'
'How far back?'
'About a half a mile. Most of them are hanging back
but they've got scouts out. They're keeping an eye on us. '
'if we charged to the rear, they'd just scatter,' Bevier
advised. 'And then they'd pick up our trail again.'
'Probably,' Sparhawk agreed glumly. 'Well, I can't
stop them. I don't have enough men. Let them trail along
if it makes them happy. We'll get rid of them when we're
all feeling a little better. Berit, drop back and keep an eye
on them - and no heroics.'
"I understand completely, Sir Sparhawk.'
The day grew hot before noon, and Sparhawk began to
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sweat inside his armour.
'Am I being punished for something?' Kurik asked
him, mopping his streaming face with a piece of cloth.
'You know I wouldn't do that.'
'Then why am I locked up in this stove?'
'Sorry. It's necessary.'
About mid-afternoon, when they were passing
through a long verdant valley, a dozen or so gaily
dressed young men galloped from a nearby estate to bar
their way. 'Go no farther,' one of them, a pale, pimply
young fellow in a green velvet doublet and with a
supercilious, self-important expression, commanded,
holding up one hand imperiously.
"I beg your pardon?' Sparhawk asked.
"I demand to know why you are trespassing on my
father's lands.' The young fellow looked around at his
sniggering friends with a smugly self-congratulatory
expression.
'We were led to believe that this is a public road,'
Sparhawk replied.
'Only at my father's sufferance.' The pimply fellow
puffed himself up, trying to look dangerous.
'He's showing off for his friends,' Kurik muttered.
'Let's just sweep them out of the way and ride on. Those
rapiers they're carrying aren't really much of a threat.'
"Let's try some diplomacy first,' Sparhawk replied.
'We really don't want a crowd of angry serfs on our
heels.'
"I'll do it. I've handled his sort before.' Kurik rode
forward deliberately, Bevier's armour gleaming in the
afternoon sun and his white cape and surcoat resplendent.
'Young man,' he said in a stern voice, 'you seem to
be somewhat unacquainted with the customary courtesies.
Is it possible that you don't recognize us?'
"I've never seen you before.'
"I wasn't talking about who we are. I was talking about
what. It's understandable, I suppose. It's obvious that
you're not widely travelled.'
The young fellow's eyes bulged with outrage. 'Not so.
Not so,' he objected in a squeaky voice. "I have been to
the city of Venne at least twice.'
'Ah,' Kurik said. 'And when you were there, did you
perhaps hear about the Church?'
'We have our own chapel right here on the estate. I
need no instruction in that foolishness.' The young man
sneered. It seemed to be his normal expression.
An older man in a black brocade doublet was riding
furiously from the estate.
"It's always gratifying to speak with an educated man,'
Kurik was saying. 'Have you ever by chance heard of the
Knights of the Church?'
The young fellow looked a bit vague at that. The man
in the black doublet was approaching rapidly from
behind the group of young men. His face appeared white
with fury.
"I'd strongly advise you to stand aside,' Kurik continued
smoothly. 'What you're doing imperils your soul
- not to mention your life.'
'You can't threaten me - not on my father's own
estate.'
Jaken!' the man in black roared, 'have you lost your
mind?'
'Father,' the pimply young man faltered, "I was just
questioning these trespassers.'
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'Trespassers?' the older man spluttered. 'This is the
Kings highway, you jackass!'
The man in the black doublet moved his horse in
closer, rose in his stirrups and knocked his son from the
saddle with a solid blow of his fist. Then he turned to face
Kurik. 'My apologies, Sir Knight,' he said. 'My half-wit
son didn't know to whom he was speaking. I revere the
church and honour her Knights. I hope and pray that
you were not offended.'
'Not at all, My Lord,' Kurik said easily. 'Your son and I
had very nearly resolved our differences.'
The noble winced. 'Thank God I arrived in time then.
that idiot isn't much of a son, but his mother would have
been distressed if you'd been obliged to cut off his head.'
"I doubt that it would have gone that far, My Lord.'
'Father!' the young man on the ground said in horified
shock. 'You hit me!' There was blood streaming from his
nose. "I'm going to tell mother!'
'Good. I'm sure she'll be very impressed.' The noble
looked apologetically at Kurik. 'Excuse me, Sir Knight. I
think some long overdue discipline is in order. ' He glared
at his son. 'Return home, jaken,' he said coldly. 'When
you get there, pack up this covey of parasitic wastrels and
send them away. I want them off the estate by sundown.'
'But they're my friends.' his son wailed.
'Well, they're not mine. Get rid of them. You will also
pack. Don't bother to take fine clothing, because you're
going to a monastery. The brothers there are very strict,
and they'll see to your education - which I seem to have
neglected. '
"Mother won't let you do that!' his son exclaimed, his
face going very pale.
"She doesn't have anything to say about it. Your
mother has never been more to me than a minor
inconvenience. '
'But - ' the young brat's face seemed to disintegrate.
'You sicken me, Jaken. You're the worst excuse for a
son a man has ever been cursed with. Pay close attention
to the monks, Jaken. I have some nephews far more
worthy than you. Your inheritance is not all that secure,
and you could be a monk for the remainder of your life. '
'You can't do that.'
'Yes, actually, I can."
'Mother wil punish you.'
The noble's laugh was chilling. 'Your mother has
begun to tire me, Jaken,' he said. "She's self-indulgent,
shrewish and more than a little stupid. She's turned you
into something I'd rather not look at. Besides, she's not
very attractive any more. I think I'll send her to a nunnery
for the rest of her life. The prayer and fasting may bring
her closer to heaven, and the amendment of her spirit is
my duty as a loving husband, wouldn't you say?'
The sneer had slid off Jaken's face, and he began to
shake violently as his world crashed down around his
ears.
'Now, my son,' the noble continued disdainfully, 'will
you do as I tell you, or shall I unleash this Knight of the
Church to administer the chastisement you so richly
deserve?'
Kurik took his cue from that and slowly drew Bevier's
sword. It made a singularly unpleasant sound as it slid
from its sheath.
The young man scrambled away on his hands and
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knees. "I have a dozen friends with me,' he threatened
shrilly.
Kurik looked the pampered boys up and down, then he
laFt derisively. 'So?' he said, shifting his shield and flexing
his sword arm. 'Did you want to keep his head, My Lord?'
he asked the noble politely, ' - as a keepsake, naturally?'
"you wouldn't!' jaken was very nearly in a state of
collapse now.
Kurik moved his horse forward, his sword glinting
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