The Ruby Knight

by David Eddings

  They patrolled a long stretch of the western shore of Lake Venne, peering out into the darkness that had settled over the lake. Gradually during the long night, Flute narrowed the area of their patrol, bringing them closer and closer together.

  ‘How can you tell?’ Kalten demanded of her a few hours past midnight.

  ‘Would he understand?’ Flute asked Sephrenia.

  ‘Kalten? Probably not, but you can try to explain it, if you’d like.’ Sephrenia smiled. ‘We all need a bit of frustration in our lives from time to time.’

  ‘It feels differently when Bhelliom’s moving at a diagonal than when it’s coming at you head-on,’ Flute tried.

  ‘Oh,’ he said dubiously, ‘that makes sense, I suppose.’

  ‘See,’ Flute said triumphantly to Sephrenia, ‘I knew I could make him understand.’

  ‘Only one question,’ Kalten added. ‘What’s a diagonal?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said, pressing her face against Sephrenia in a gesture of despair.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ Kalten appealed to his fellow knights.

  ‘Let’s swing south a bit, Kalten, and keep an eye on the lake,’ Tynian said. ‘I’ll explain it to you as we go along.’

  ‘You,’ Sephrenia said to Ulath, who had a faint smile on his face, ‘not a word.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  Sparhawk turned Faran and rode slowly back towards the north, looking out at the dark waters.

  The moon rose late that night, and it cast a long, glittering path across the surface of the lake. Sparhawk relaxed a bit then. Looking for a Troll in the dark had been a very tense business. It seemed somehow almost too easy now. All they had to do was wait for Ghwerig to reach the lake-shore. After all the difficulties and setbacks that had dogged them since they had set out in search of Bhelliom, the idea of just being able to sit and wait for it to be delivered to them made Sparhawk a little nervous. He had an ominous suspicion that something was going to go wrong. If all the things that had happened in Lamorkand and here in Pelosia were any indication, something was bound to go wrong. Their quest had been dogged by near-disaster almost from the moment they had left the chapterhouse at Cimmura, and Sparhawk saw no reason to hope that this situation would be any different.

  Once again the sun rose in a rusty sky, a coppery disc hanging low over the brown-stained waters of the lake. Sparhawk rode wearily back through the grove of trees from which they kept watch to where Sephrenia and the children were waiting. ‘How far away is he now?’ he asked Flute.

  ‘He’s about a mile out in the lake,’ she replied. ‘He’s stopped again.’

  ‘Why does he keep stopping?’ Sparhawk was growing increasingly irritated by these periodic halts in the Troll’s progress across the lake.

  ‘Would you like to hear a guess?’ Talen asked.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘I stole a boat once because I had to get across the Cimmura River. The boat leaked. I had to stop every five minutes or so to bail out the water. Ghwerig’s been stopping about every half-hour. Maybe his boat doesn’t leak as much as mine did.’

  Sparhawk stared at the boy for a moment, and then he suddenly burst out laughing. ‘Thanks, Talen,’ he said, feeling suddenly much better.

  ‘No charge,’ the boy replied impudently. ‘You see, Sparhawk, the easiest answer is usually the right one.’

  ‘Then I’ve got a Troll out there in a leaky boat, and I’ve got to wait here on shore until he gets all the water out of it.’

  ‘That pretty well sums it up, yes.’

  Tynian rode in at a canter. ‘Sparhawk,’ he said quietly, ‘we’ve got some riders coming from the west.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Too many to count with ease.’

  ‘Let’s take a look.’ The two rode back through the trees to where Kalten, Ulath and Bevier were sitting, their horses looking off to the west. ‘I’ve been watching them, Sparhawk,’ Ulath said. ‘I think they’re Thalesians.’

  ‘What are Thalesians doing here in Pelosia?’

  ‘Remember what that innkeeper told you back in Venne?’ Kalten said, ‘- about a war going on down in Arcium? Didn’t he say that the western kingdoms are mobilizing?’

  ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ Sparhawk admitted. ‘Well, it’s none of our concern – at least not for the moment.’

  Kurik and Berit rode up. ‘I think we’ve seen him, Sparhawk,’ Kurik reported. ‘At least, Berit has.’

  Sparhawk looked quickly at the novice.

  ‘I climbed a tree, Sir Sparhawk,’ Berit explained. ‘There’s a small boat some distance off-shore. I couldn’t make out too many details, but it looks as if it’s just drifting, and there seems to be some splashing going on.’

  Sparhawk laughed wryly. ‘I guess Talen was right,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t quite follow, Sir Sparhawk.’

  ‘He said that Ghwerig probably stole a leaky boat, and that he has to stop every so often to bail out the water.’

  ‘You mean we’ve been waiting all night while Ghwerig scoops the water out of his boat?’ Kalten asked.

  ‘It looks that way,’ Sparhawk said.

  ‘They’re getting closer, Sparhawk,’ Tynian said, pointing to the west.

  ‘And they’re definitely Thalesians,’ Ulath added.

  Sparhawk swore and went to the edge of the trees. The approaching men were formed up in a column and at the head of the column rode a large man in a mail-shirt and a purple cape. Sparhawk recognized him. It was King Wargun of Thalesia, and he appeared to be roaring drunk. Beside him rode a pale, slender man in a highly decorated but somewhat delicate suit of armour.

  ‘The one beside Wargun is King Soros of Pelosia,’ Tynian said quietly. ‘I don’t think he poses much of a danger. He spends most of his time praying and fasting.’

  ‘We do have a problem, though, Sparhawk,’ Ulath said gravely. ‘Ghwerig’s going to be coming ashore very shortly, and he’s got the royal crown of Thalesia with him. Wargun would give his very soul to get that crown back. I hate to say it, but we’d better lead him away from here before Ghwerig reaches the lake-shore.’

  Sparhawk began to swear in frustration. His suspicions of the previous night had turned out to be all too correct.

  ‘We’ll be all right, Sparhawk,’ Bevier assured him. ‘Flute can follow Bhelliom’s trail. We’ll get King Wargun some distance away and then take our leave of him. We can come back later and chase down the Troll.’

  ‘It doesn’t look as if we have much choice,’ Sparhawk conceded. ‘Let’s go and get Sephrenia and the children and draw Wargun away from here.’

  They mounted quickly and rode back to where Sephrenia, Talen and Flute were waiting. ‘We’re going to have to leave,’ Sparhawk said tersely. ‘There are some Thalesians coming, and King Wargun’s with them. Ulath says that if Wargun finds out what we’re here for, he’ll try to take the crown away from us as soon as we get our hands on it. Let’s ride.’

  They left the trees on the margin of the lake at a gallop, heading north. As they had anticipated, the column of Thalesian troops moved in pursuit. ‘We need a couple of miles at least,’ Sparhawk shouted to the others. ‘We’ve got to give Ghwerig a chance to get away.’

  They reached the road that bore in a north-easterly direction back towards the city of Venne and galloped along, rather ostentatiously not looking back at the pursuing Thalesians.

  ‘They’re coming up fast,’ Talen, who could look back over his shoulder without seeming to, called to Sparhawk.

  ‘I’d like to get them a little farther away from Ghwerig,’ Sparhawk said regretfully, ‘but I suppose this is as far as we can go.’

  ‘Ghwerig’s a Troll, Sparhawk,’ Ulath said. ‘He knows how to hide.’

  ‘All right,’ Sparhawk agreed. He made some show of looking back over his shoulder and then held up one hand in the signal for a halt. They reined in and turned their horses to face the oncoming Thalesians.

  The Thalesians also halted, and
one of their number came forward at a walk. ‘King Wargun of Thalesia would have words with you, Sir Knights,’ he said respectfully. ‘He will join us presently.’

  ‘Very well,’ Sparhawk said curtly.

  ‘Wargun’s drunk,’ Ulath muttered to his friend. ‘Try to be diplomatic, Sparhawk.’

  King Wargun and King Soros rode up and reined in their horses. ‘Ho-ho, Soros!’ Wargun roared, swaying dangerously in his saddle. ‘We seem to have snared us a covey of Church Knights.’ He blinked and peered at the knights. ‘I know that one,’ he said. ‘Ulath, what are you doing here in Pelosia?’

  ‘Church business, Your Majesty,’ Ulath replied blandly.

  ‘And that one with the broken nose is the Pandion Sparhawk,’ Wargun added to King Soros. ‘Why were you running so hard, Sparhawk?’

  ‘Our mission is of a certain urgency, Your Majesty,’ Sparhawk said.

  ‘And what mission is that?’

  ‘We’re not at liberty to discuss it, Your Majesty. Standard Church practice, you understand.’

  ‘Politics then,’ Wargun snorted. ‘I wish the Church would keep her nose out of politics.’

  ‘Will you ride along with us for a ways, Your Majesty?’ Bevier inquired politely.

  ‘No, I think it’s going to be the other way around, Sir Knight – and it’s going to be more than just a ways.’ Wargun looked at them all. ‘Do you know what’s been going on in Arcium?’

  ‘We’ve heard a few garbled rumours, Your Majesty,’ Tynian said, ‘but nothing very substantial.’

  ‘All right,’ Wargun said, ‘I’ll give you some substance. The Rendors have invaded Arcium.’

  ‘That’s impossible!’ Sparhawk exclaimed.

  ‘Go and tell the people who used to live in Coombe about impossible. The Rendors sacked and burned the town. Now they’re marching north towards the capital at Larium. King Dregos has invoked the mutual defence treaties. Soros here and I are gathering up every able-bodied man we can lay our hands on. We’re going to ride south and stamp out the Rendorish infection once and for all.’

  ‘I wish we could accompany Your Majesty,’ Sparhawk said, ‘but we have another commitment. Perhaps, once our task is finished, we may be able to join you.’

  ‘You already have, Sparhawk,’ Wargun said bluntly.

  ‘We have another urgent commitment, Your Majesty,’ Sparhawk repeated.

  ‘The Church is eternal, Sparhawk, and she’s very patient. Your other commitment will have to wait.’

  That did it. Sparhawk, whose temper was never really greatly under control, looked the monarch of Thalesia full in the face. Unlike the anger of other men, whose rage was dissipated in shouting and oaths, Sparhawk’s anger took on an ominous icy calmness. ‘We are Church Knights, Your Majesty,’ he said in a flat, unemotional voice. ‘We are not subject to earthly kings. Our responsibility is to God and to our mother, the Church. We will obey her commands, not yours.’

  ‘I have a thousand picked men at my back,’ Wargun blustered.

  ‘And how many are you prepared to lose?’ Sparhawk asked in his deadly quiet voice. He drew himself up in his saddle and slowly lowered his visor. ‘Let’s save some time, Wargun of Thalesia,’ he said formally, removing his right gauntlet. ‘I find your attitude unseemly, even irreligious, and it offends me.’ With a negligent toss, he threw his gauntlet into the dust of the road in front of the Thalesian king.

  ‘That’s his idea of diplomacy?’ Ulath murmured to Kalten in some dismay.

  ‘That’s about as close as he can usually get,’ Kalten said, loosening his sword in its sheath. ‘You may as well go ahead and draw your axe, Ulath. This promises to be an interesting morning. Sephrenia, take the children to the rear.’

  ‘Are you mad, Kalten?’ Ulath exploded. ‘You want me to draw my axe on my own king?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Kalten grinned, ‘only on his funeral cortege. If Wargun goes up against Sparhawk, he’ll be drinking heavenly mead after the first pass.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to fight Sparhawk,’ Ulath said regretfully.

  ‘That’s up to you, my friend,’ Kalten said with equal regret, ‘but I don’t advise it. Even if you get past Sparhawk, you’ll still have to face me, and I cheat a lot.’

  ‘I will not permit this!’ a booming voice roared. The man who shouldered his horse through the surrounding Thalesians was huge, bigger even than Ulath. He wore a mail-shirt and an ogre-horned helmet and carried a massive axe. A wide black ribbon about his neck identified him as a churchman. ‘Pick up your gauntlet, Sir Sparhawk, and withdraw your challenge! This is the command of our mother, the Church!’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Kalten asked Ulath.

  ‘Bergsten, the Patriarch of Emsat,’ Ulath replied.

  ‘A Patriarch? Dressed like that?’

  ‘Bergsten’s not your average churchman.’

  ‘Your Grace,’ King Wargun faltered. ‘I -’

  ‘Put up your sword, Wargun,’ Bergsten thundered, ‘or would you face me in single combat?’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Wargun said almost conversationally to Sparhawk. ‘Would you?’

  Sparhawk looked appraisingly at the Patriarch of Emsat. ‘Not if I could help it,’ he admitted. ‘How did he get that big?’

  ‘He was an only child,’ Wargun said. ‘He didn’t have to fight with nine brothers and sisters for his supper every night. What’s your feeling about a truce at this point, Sparhawk?’

  ‘It sounds like the course of prudence to me, Your Majesty. We really have something important to do, though.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it later – when Bergsten’s at prayers.’

  ‘This is the command of the Church!’ the Patriarch of Emsat roared. ‘The Church Knights will join us in this holy mission. The Eshandist heresy is an offence against God. It will die on the rocky plains of Arcium. As God gives us strength, my children, let us proceed with this great work that we are about.’ He wheeled his horse to face south. ‘Don’t forget your gauntlet, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘You might need it when we get to Arcium.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied through clenched teeth.

  Chapter 21

  Promptly at noon, King Soros of Pelosia called a halt. He instructed his servants to erect his pavilion, and he and his private chaplain retired inside for noon prayers.

  ‘Choir-boy,’ King Wargun muttered under his breath. ‘Bergsten!’ he bellowed.

  ‘Right here, Your Majesty,’ the militaristic Patriarch said mildly from behind his king.

  ‘Have you recovered from your spate of bad temper yet?’

  ‘I wasn’t really bad tempered, Your Majesty. I was merely trying to save lives – yours included.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Had you been foolish enough to accept Sir Sparhawk’s challenge, you’d be dining in Heaven tonight – or supping in Hell, depending on Divine Judgement.’

  ‘That’s direct enough.’

  ‘Sir Sparhawk’s reputation precedes him, Your Majesty, and you would be no match for him. Now, what was it you had on your mind?’

  ‘How far is Lamorkand from here?’

  ‘The south end of the lake, My Lord – about two days.’

  ‘And the closest Lamork city?’

  ‘That would be Agnak, Your Majesty. It’s just across the border and a bit to the east.’

  ‘All right. We’ll go there then. I want to get Soros out of his own country and away from all these religious shrines. If he stops to pray one more time, I’m going to strangle him. We’ll pick up the bulk of the army late today. They’re already marching south. I’m going to send Soros on down to mobilize the Lamork barons. You go with him, and if he tries to pray more than once a day, you have my permission to brain him.’

  ‘That could have some interesting political ramifications, Your Majesty,’ Bergsten noted.

  ‘Lie about it,’ Wargun growled. ‘Say it was an accident.’

  ‘How can you brain somebody b
y accident?’

  ‘Think something up. Now, listen to me, Bergsten. I need those Lamorks. Don’t let Soros get side-tracked on some religious pilgrimage. Keep him moving. Quote sacred texts to him if you have to. Pick up every Lamork you can lay your hands on and then swing into Elenia. I’ll meet you on the Arcian border. I’ve got to go to Acie in Deira. Obler’s called a council of war.’ He looked around. ‘Sparhawk,’ he said disgustedly, ‘go someplace and pray. A Church Knight should be above eavesdropping.’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Sparhawk replied.

  ‘That’s a very ugly horse you’ve got there, you know?’ Wargun said, looking critically at Faran.

  ‘We’re a matched set, Your Majesty.’

  ‘I’d be careful, King Wargun,’ Kalten advised over his shoulder as he and Sparhawk started back to where their friends had dismounted. ‘He bites.’

  ‘Which one? Sparhawk or the horse?’

  ‘Take your pick, Your Majesty.’

  The two swung down from their horses and joined their friends. ‘What’s Ghwerig doing?’ Sparhawk asked Flute.

  ‘He’s still hiding,’ the little girl replied. ‘At least I think he is. Bhelliom’s not moving. He’s probably going to wait until dark before he starts out again.’

  Sparhawk grunted.

  Kalten looked at Ulath. ‘What’s the story behind Bergsten?’ he asked. ‘I’ve never seen a churchman in armour before.’

  ‘He used to be a Genidian Knight,’ Ulath replied. ‘He’d be Preceptor by now if he hadn’t entered the priesthood.’

  Kalten nodded. ‘He did seem to be carrying that axe as if he knew how to use it. Isn’t it a bit unusual for a member of one of the militant orders to take the cloth?’

  ‘Not that unusual, Kalten,’ Bevier disagreed from nearby. ‘A fair number of the high churchmen in Arcium used to be Cyrinics. Someday I myself may leave our order so that I can serve God more personally.’

  ‘We’re going to have to find some nice accommodating girl for that boy, Sparhawk,’ Ulath muttered. ‘Let’s get him involved in some serious sin so that he gives up that notion. He’s too good a man to waste by putting him in a cassock.’