'And now Bevier's got it too?' Kalten asked her.
"I'm afraid so. He's already beginning to behave
irrationally. '
'Talen,' Sparhawk said seriously, 'when you gave him
that pail of water, did you touch him?'
"I don't think so,' the boy replied.
'Are you feeling any urges to run around rescuing
ladies in distress?' Kurik asked him.
'Me? Kurik, be serious.'
'He's all right,' Sephrenia said with relief in her voice.
'All right,' Sparhawk said, 'what do we do?'
'We ride to Ghasek as quickly as we can,' she replied. 'I
have to find out what's causing the infection before I can
cure it. We absolutely have to get into that castle - even if
it involves force.'
'We can handle that,' Ulath said, 'but what are we
going to do about that minstrel? If he can infect others
just by touching them, he's likely to come back at the
head of an army.'
'There's a simple way to deal with it,' Kalten said
putting his hand on his sword-hilt.
'No,' Sephrenia said sharply. "I'll put him to sleep
instead. A few days' rest might do him some good
anyway.' She looked sternly at Kalten. 'Why is your first
answer to any problem always a sword?'
'Over-trained, I suppose,' he shrugged.
Sephrenia began to speak the incantation, weaving the
spell with her fingers and quietly releasing it.
'What about Bevier?' Tynian asked. 'Wouldn't it be a
good idea for him to go to sleep too?'
She shook her head. 'He has to be able to ride. We can't
leave him behind. Just don't get close enough to him to
let him touch you. I've got problems enough already.'
They walked back to the fire.
'The poor fellow's gone to sleep,' Bevier reported.
'What are we going to do about this?'
'Tomorrow morning, we're going to ride on to
Ghasek,' Sparhawk replied. 'Oh, one thing, Bevier,' he
added. "I know you're outraged about this, but try to
keep your emotions under control when we get there.
Keep your hand away from your sword, and keep your
tongue under control. Let's feel this situation out before
we take any action.'
'That's the course of prudence, I suppose,' Bevier
admitted grudgingly. "I'll feign illness when we get
there. I'm not sure I could restrain my anger if I have to
look this monstrous count in the face too many times.'
'Good idea,' Sparhawk agreed. 'Put a blanket over our
friend here, and then get to bed. Tomorrow's going to be
a hard day.' After Bevier had gone to his tent, Sparhawk spoke
quietly with his fellow knights. 'Don't wake Bevier to
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stand watch tonight,' he cautioned. "I don't want him
getting any ideas about riding out on his own in the
middle of the night. They all nodded and went to their blankets.
It was still cloudy the following morning, a dense, grey
overcast that filled the dismal wood with a kind of murky
twilight. After they had finished breakfast, Kurik erected
a sheet of canvas on poles over the sleeping minstrel.
"just in case it rains,' he said.
'is he all right?' Bevier asked.
"just exhausted,' Sephrenia replied evasively. 'Let him
sleep.' They mounted and rode back out to the rutted track.
Sparhawk led them at first at a trot to warm up the
horses, and then, after about a half-hour he pushed
Faran into a gallop. 'Keep your eyes on the road,' he
shouted to the others. 'Let's not cripple any of the
horses.'
They rode hard through the murky wood, slowing
briefly from time to time to rest their mounts. As the day
progressed, they began to hear rumbles of thunder off to
the west, and the impending storm increased their desire
to reach the questionable safety of the house at Ghasek.
As they drew closer to the count's castle, they passed
deserted villages that had fallen into ruin. The stormclouds
roiled overhead, and the distant thunder marched
steadily towards them.
Late in the afternoon, they rounded a curve and saw
the large castle perched atop a crag on the far side of a
desolate field where ruined houses stood huddled
together as if fearful of the bleak structure glowering
down at them. Sparhawk reined Faran in. 'Let's not just
go charging up there,' he said to the others. 'We don't
want the people in the castle to misunderstand our
intentions.' He led them at a trot across the field. They
passed the village and approached the base of the craggy
hill.
There was a narrow track leading up the side of the
crag, and they rode up it in single file.
'Gloomy-looking place,' Ulath said, craning his neck to
look up at the brooding structure atop the crag.
"It doesn't really help to generate much enthusiasm for
this visit,' Kalten agreed.
The track they followed led ultimately to a barred gate.
Sparhawk reined in, leaned over in his saddle and
pounded on the gate with one steel-clad fist.
They waited, but nothing happened.
Sparhawk pounded again.
After some time, a small panel in the centre of the gate
slid open. 'What is it?' a hollow voice demanded shortly.
'We are travellers," Sparhawk replied, 'and we seek
shelter from the storm which approaches.'
The house is closed to strangers.'
'Open the gate,' Sparhawk said flatly. 'We are Knights
of the Church, and failure to comply with our reasonable
request for shelter is an offence against God.'
The unseen man on the other side of the gate hesitated.
''I must ask the count's permission,' he said grudgingly in
a deep, rumbling voice.
'Do so at once then.'
'Not a very promising beginning, is it?' Kalten said.
'Gatekeepers sometimes take themselves too
seriously,' Tynian told him. 'Keys and locks do strange
things to some people's sense of proportion.'
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They waited while lightning streaked the purple sky to
the west.
Then, after what seemed a very long time, they heard
the rattling of a chain followed by the sound of a heavy
iron bar sliding through massive rings. Grudgingly, the
gate groaned open.
The man inside was huge. He wore bull-hide armour,
and his eyes were deep-sunk beneath heavy brows. His
lower jaw protruded, and his face was bleak.
Sparhawk knew him. He had seen him once before.
*Chapter14
The corridor into which the surly gate-guard led them was
draped with cobwebs and dimly lit by flickering torches set
in iron rings at widely spaced intervals. Sparhawk quite
deliberately lagged behind to fall in beside Sephrenia. 'You
recognised him too?' he whispered to her.
She nodded. 'There's more going on here than we
realized,' she whispered back. 'Be very careful, Sparhawk.
&
nbsp; This is dangerous.'
'right,' he grunted.
At the far end of the cobwebbed hallway stood a large,
heavy door. When their silent escort pulled it open, the
rusty hinges squealed in protest. They came out at the
head of a curved stairway that led down into a very large
room. The room was vaulted, its wals were painted
white, and the polished stone floor was as black as night.
A fire burned fitfully in the arched fireplace, and the only
other light came from a single candle on the table before
the fire. Seated at the table was a pale-faced, grey-haired
man dressed all in black. His face was melancholy and
had the pallor of one who is seldom out in the sun. He
looked somehow unhealthy, a victim of some obscure
malaise. He was reading a large, leather-bound book by
the light of his single candle.
The people I spoke of, Master,' the lantern-jawed man
in the bull-hide armour said deferentially in his deep,
hollow voice.
'Very well, Occuda,' the man at the table replied in a
weary voice. 'Prepare chambers for them. They will stay
until the storm abates.'
The big servant turned.
"It shall be as you say, master."
and went back up the stairs.
"Very few people travel into this part of the kingdom."
The man in black informed them. "The region is desolate
and unpopulated. I am count Gazec, and I offer you the
meagre shelter of my house until the weather clears.
In time, you may wish that you had not found my gate.'
'My name is Sparhawk, ' the big Pandion told him, and
then he introduced the others.
Ghasek nodded politely to each. 'Seat yourselves," he
invited his guests. 'Occuda will return shortly and
prepare refreshments for you.'
'You are very kind, My Lord of Ghasek," Sparhawk
said, removing his helmet and gauntlets.
'You may not think so for long, Sir Sparhawk,' Ghasek
said ominously.
'That's the second time you've hinted at some kind of
trouble within your walls, My Lord,' Tynian said.
'And it may not be the last, Sir Tynian. The word
"trouble", however, is far too mild, I'm afraid. To be
quite honest with you, had you not been Knights of the
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Church, my gates would have remained closed to you.
This is an unhappy house, and I do not willingly inflict its
sorrows on strangers.'
'We passed through Venne a few days ago, My Lord, '
Sparhawk said carefully. 'All manner of rumours are
going about concerning your castle.'
"I'm not in the least surprised,' the count replied,
passing a trembling hand across his face.
'Are you unwell, My Lord?' Sephrenia asked him.
'Advancing age perhaps, Madame, and there's only
one cure for that.'
'We saw no other servants in your house, My Lord,'
Bevier said, obviously choosing his words carefully.
'Occuda and I are the only ones here now, Sir Bevier.
"We encountered a minstrel in the forest, Count
Ghasek," Bevier told him, almost accusingly. "He mentioned
the fact that you had a sister."
"Youmust mean the fool called Arbele,' the count
replied. 'Yes, I do in fact have a sister.'
"WIll the lady be joining us?' Bevier's tone was sharp.
'No,' the count replied shortly. 'My sister is
indisposed . '
'Lady Sephrenia here is highly skilled in the healing
arts,' Bevier pressed.
'My sisters malady is not susceptible to cure.' The
count said it with a note of finality.
That's enough, Bevier,' Sparhawk told the young
Cyrinic in a tone of command.
Bevier flushed and rose from his chair to walk( to the far
end of the room.
The young man seems distraught,' the count
observed.
The minstrel Arbele told him some things about your
house,' Tynian said candidly. 'Beviers an ArCian and
they're an emotional people.'
"I see,' the melancholy nobleman replied. "I can
imagine the kind of wild tales Arbele is telling. Fortunately,
few will believe him.'
"I'm afraid you're in error, My Lord,' Sephrenia
disagreed. 'The tales Arbele tells are a symptom of a
disorder that clouds his reason, and the disorder is
infectious. For a time at least, everyone he encounters
will accept what he says as absolute truth.'
'My sister's arm grows longer, I see.'
From somewhere far back in the house there came a
hideous shriek, followed by peal upon peal of mindless
laughter.
'Your sister?' SePhrenia asked gently.
Ghasek nodded, and Sparhawk could see the tears
brimming in his eyes.
'And her malady is not physical?'
'No.'
'Let us not pursue this further, gentlemen,' Sephrenia
said to the knights. 'The subject is painful to the count.'
'You're very kind, Madame,' Ghasek said gratefully.
He sighed, then said, 'Tell me, Sir Knights, what brings
you into this melancholy forest?'
'We came expressly to see you, My Lord,' Sparhawk
told him.
'Me?' The count looked surprised.
'We are on a quest, Count Ghasek. We seek the final
resting place of King Sarak of Thalesia, who fell during
the Zemoch invasion.'
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'The name is vaguely familiar to me.'
"I thought it might be. A tanner in the town of Paler - a
man named Berd - '
'Yes. I know him.'
'Anyway, he told us of the chronicle you're compiling.'
The count's eyes brightened, bringing life to his face
for the first time since they had entered the room. 'The
labour of a lifetime, Sir Sparhawk.'
'So I understand, My Lord. Berd told us that your
research has been more or less exhaustive.'
'Berd may be a bit overgenerous in that regard.' The
count smiled modestly. "I have, however, gathered most
of the folk-lore in northern Pelosia and even in some
parts of deira. Otha's invasion was far more extensive
than is generally known.'
'Yes, so we discovered. With your permission, we'd
like to examine your chronicle for clues that might lead us
to the place where King Sarak is buried.'
'Certainly, Sir Sparhawk, and I'll help you myself, but
the hour grows late, and my chronicle is weighty.' He
smiled self-deprecatingly. 'Once I begin, we could be up
for most of the night. I lose all track of time once I
immerse myself in those pages. Suppose we wait until
morning before we begin."
'As you wish, My Lord.'
Then Occuda entered, bringing a large pot of thick
stew and a stack of plates. "I fed her, Master,' he said
quietly.
'is there any change?' the count asked.
'No, Master. I'm afraid not.'
The count sighed, and his face became melancholy
again.
Occuda's
skills in the kitchen appeared to be Limited.
The stew he provided was mediocre at best, but the count
was so immersed in his studies that he appeared to be
indifferent to what was set before him.
After they had eaten, the count bade them good night,
and Occuda led them up the stairs and down a long
corridor towards the rooms he had prepared. As they
approached the chambers, they heard the shrieks of the
madwoman once again. Bevier suppressed a sob. "She's
suffering,' he said in an anguished voice.
'No, Sir Knight,' Occuda disagreed. "She's completely
insane, and people in her condition cannot comprehend
their circumstances.'
"I'd be interested to know how a servant came to be
such an expert in diseases of the mind.'
"That's enough, Bevier,' Sparhawk said again.
'No, SIr Knight,' Occuda said. "your friend's question
is pertinent.' He turned towards Bevier. 'in my youth, I
was a monk,' he said. 'My order devoted itself to caring
for the infirm. One of our abbeys had been converted into
a hospice for the deranged, and that's where I served. I
have had much experience with the insane. Believe me
when I tell you that Lady Bellina is hopelessly mad.'
Bevier looked a little less certain of himself, but then his
eyes hardened again. "I don't believe you,' he snapped.
"That's entirely up to you, Sir Knight,' Occuda said.
'This will be your chamber.' He opened a door. 'Sleep
well.'
Bevier went into the room and slammed the door
behind him.
'You know that as soon as the house grows quiet, he'll
go in search of the count's sister, don't you?' Sephrenia
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murmured.
'You're probably right,' Sparhawk agreed. 'Occuda, is
there some way you can lock that door?'
The huge Pelosian nodded. "I can chain it shut, My
Lord,' he said.
'You'd better do it then. We don't want Bevier wandering
around the halls in the middle of the night.'
Sparhawk thought a moment. 'We'd better post a guard
outside his door as well,' he told the others. 'He's got his
lochaber axe with him, and if he gets desperate enough,
he might try to chop the door down.'
'That could get a little tricky, Sparhawk,' Kalten said
dubiously. 'We don't want to hurt him, but we don't
want him coming at us with that gruesome axe of his
either.'
'if he tries to get out, we'll just have to overpower him,'
Sparhawk said.
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