The Sapphire Rose

by David Eddings

  Emban gave Ehlana a shrewd look. ‘I understand perfectly, Sparhawk. I’ll make a few suitable remarks to the Hierocracy.’ He smiled at Ehlana. ‘I’m so glad to see that you’re feeling better, Your Majesty,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she replied in a trembling little voice.

  Emban returned to the lectern as Sparhawk and Mirtai went back up into the gallery to rejoin their friends. ‘My brothers,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that Queen Ehlana is recovering. She’s asked me to apologize for anything she may have said during her remarks. The queen’s health is still not good, I’m afraid, and she journeyed here to Chyrellos at great personal risk, so firm was her resolve to be present for our deliberations.’

  They murmured their admiration for such devotion.

  ‘It were best, I think,’ Emban continued, ‘if we were not to question Her Majesty too closely concerning the content of her remarks. It appears that she has no memory of her speech. This can be quite easily explained by her weakened condition. There is perhaps another explanation as well, but I think wisdom and consideration for Her Majesty dictates to us that we not pursue it.’ Of such stuff legends are made.

  And then there was a brassy fanfare of trumpets, and the door to the left side of the throne swung open. Dolmant, flanked by Ortzel and Bergsten, entered. The new Archprelate wore a plain white cassock, and his face was calm now. Sparhawk was struck by an odd notion. There were marked similarities between Dolmant’s white cassock and Sephrenia’s white robe. The thought led him to the brink of a speculation that might just have been mildly heretical.

  The two Patriarchs, the one from Lamorkand and the other from Thalesia, escorted Dolmant to the throne, which had been unshrouded during their absence, and the Archprelate took his seat.

  ‘And will Sarathi address us?’ Emban said, stepping from behind the lectern and genuflecting.

  ‘Sarathi?’ Talen whispered to Berit.

  ‘It’s a very old name,’ Berit explained quietly. ‘When the Church was finally unified almost three thousand years ago, the very first Archprelate was named Sarathi. His name is remembered – and honoured – by addressing the Archprelate this way.’

  Dolmant sat gravely on his gold throne. ‘I have not sought this eminence, my brothers,’ he told them, ‘and I would be far happier had you not seen fit to thrust it upon me. We can only hope – all of us – that this is truly God’s will.’ He raised his face slightly. ‘Now, we have much that needs to be done. I will call upon many of you to aid me, and, as is always the case, there will be changes here in the Basilica. I pray you, my brothers, do not be chagrined or downcast when Church offices are being reassigned, for it has ever been thus when a new Archprelate comes to this throne. Our holy mother faces her gravest challenge in half a millennium. My first act, therefore, must be to confirm the state of Crisis of the Faith, and I decree that this state shall continue until we have met the challenge and prevailed. And now, my brothers and dear friends, let us pray, and then shall we depart and go to our sundry duties.’

  ‘Nice and short,’ Ulath approved. ‘Sarathi’s getting off to a good start.’

  ‘Was the queen really in hysterics when she made that speech?’ Kalten curiously asked Sparhawk.

  ‘Of course she wasn’t,’ Sparhawk snorted. ‘She knew exactly what she was doing every second.’

  ‘I sort of thought she might have been. I think your marriage is going to be filled with surprises, Sparhawk, but that’s all right. The unexpected always keeps a man on his toes.’

  As they were leaving the Basilica, Sparhawk fell back to have a word with Sephrenia. He found her a few feet back down a side passage deep in conversation with a man wearing a monk’s robe. When the man turned, however, Sparhawk saw that he was not an Elene, but rather was a silvery-bearded Styric. The man bowed to the approaching knight. ‘I will leave you now, dear sister,’ he said to Sephrenia in Styric. His voice, deep and rich, belied his evident age.

  ‘No, Zalasta, stay,’ she said, laying one hand on his arm.

  ‘I would not offend the Knights of the Church by my presence in their holy place, sister.’

  ‘Sparhawk takes a bit more offending than the usual Church Knight, my dear friend,’ she smiled.

  ‘This is the legendary Sir Sparhawk?’ the Styric said with some surprise. ‘I am honoured, Sir Knight.’ He spoke in heavily accented Elene.

  ‘Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said, ‘this is my oldest and dearest friend, Zalasta. We were children together in the same village.’

  ‘I am honoured, Sioanda,’ Sparhawk said in Styric, also bowing. Sioanda was a Styric word meaning ‘friend of my friend’.

  ‘Age has dimmed my eyes it seems,’ Zalasta noted. ‘Now that I look more closely at his face, I can indeed see that this is Sir Sparhawk. The light of his purpose shines all around him.’

  ‘Zalasta has offered us his aid, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said then. ‘He is very wise and deeply schooled in the secrets.’

  ‘We would be honoured, learned one,’ Sparhawk said.

  Zalasta smiled. ‘I would be of small use on your quest, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said in a slightly self-deprecating way. ‘Were you to encase me in steel, I’m sure I would wither like a flower.’

  Sparhawk tapped his breastplate. ‘It’s an Elene affectation, learned one,’ he said, ‘– like pointed hats or brocade doublets. We can only hope that someday steel wardrobes will go out of fashion.’

  ‘I had always thought Elenes to be a humourless race,’ the Styric noted, ‘but you are droll, Sir Sparhawk. I would be of little use to you in your trek, but at some future time, I may be able to assist you in some other matter of a certain importance.’

  ‘Trek?’ Sparhawk asked.

  ‘I know not where you and my sister will go, Sir Knight, but I perceive many leagues hovering about you both. I have come to advise you both to steel your hearts and to be ever watchful. A danger avoided is sometimes preferable to a danger overcome.’ Zalasta looked around. ‘And my presence here is one of those avoidable dangers, I think. You are cosmopolitan, Sir Sparhawk, but I think that perhaps some of your comrades may be less sophisticated.’ He bowed to Sparhawk, kissed Sephrenia’s palms and then glided silently back up the shadowy side-passage.

  ‘I haven’t seen him in more than a century,’ Sephrenia said. ‘He’s changed – just a little.’

  ‘Most of us would change in that long a period, little mother,’ Sparhawk smiled, ‘– except you, of course.’

  ‘You’re such a nice boy, Sparhawk.’ She sighed. ‘It all seems so long ago. Zalasta was always so serious when he was a child. Even then he was wise beyond belief. His grasp of the secrets is profound.’

  ‘What’s this trek he was talking about?’

  ‘Do you mean to say you can’t feel it? You can’t feel the distance stretching in front of you?’

  ‘Not noticeably, no.’

  ‘Elenes,’ she sighed. ‘Sometimes I’m surprised that you can even feel the seasons turn.’

  He ignored that. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not even Zalasta can perceive that. The future lying before us is dark, Sparhawk. I should have known that it would be, but I didn’t think my way completely through it, I guess. We are going somewhere, though. Why aren’t you with Ehlana?’

  ‘The kings are all being solicitous. I can’t get near her.’ He paused. ‘Sephrenia, she can see it too – the shadow, I mean. I think it’s probably because she’s wearing one of the rings.’

  ‘That would stand to reason. Bhelliom’s useless without the rings.’

  ‘Does it put her in any kind of danger?’

  ‘Of course it does, Sparhawk, but Ehlana’s been in danger since the day she was born.’

  ‘Isn’t that just a little fatalistic?’

  ‘Perhaps. I just wish I could see this shadow of yours. I might be able to identify it a little more precisely.’

  ‘I can borrow Ehlana’s ring and give them bo
th to you,’ he offered. ‘Then you can take Bhelliom out of the pouch. I can almost guarantee that you’ll see the shadow at that point.’

  ‘Don’t even suggest that, Sparhawk,’ she shuddered. ‘I wouldn’t be much good to you if I were to suddenly vanish – permanently.’

  ‘Sephrenia,’ he said a bit critically, ‘was I some sort of an experiment? You keep warning everybody not to touch Bhelliom, but you didn’t even turn a hair when you were telling me to chase it down and take it away from Ghwerig. Wasn’t I in a certain amount of danger too? Did you just wait to see if I’d explode when I put my hands on it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Sparhawk. Everyone knows that you were destined to wield Bhelliom.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Let’s not pursue this, dear one. We have enough problems already. Just accept the fact that you and Bhelliom are linked. I think that shadow should be our concern right now. What is it, and what is it doing?’

  ‘It seems to be following Bhelliom – and the rings. Can we discount the things Perraine was trying to do? Wasn’t that Martel’s idea – one that he came up with on his own?’

  ‘I don’t know that we’d be safe to assume that. Martel was controlling Perraine, but something else may have been controlling Martel – without his even knowing it.’

  ‘I see that this is going to be another of the kind of discussions that give me headaches.’

  ‘Just take precautions, dear one,’ she told him. ‘Don’t relax your guard. Let’s see if we can catch up with Ehlana. She’ll be upset if you’re not attentive.’

  They were all somewhat subdued when they gathered together that evening. This time, however, they did not gather in the Pandion chapterhouse but rather in a large over-decorated chamber attached to the Archprelate’s personal apartments. The room was normally the site of the meetings of the highest councils of the Church, and they had assembled there at Sarathi’s personal request. Tynian, Sparhawk noticed, was conspicuously absent. The walls of the room were panelled, and it was adorned with blue drapes and carpeting. A very large religious fresco decorated the ceiling. Talen looked up and sniffed disdainfully. ‘I could do a better job than that with my left hand,’ he declared.

  ‘There’s a thought,’ Kurik said. ‘I think I’ll ask Dolmant if he’d like to have the ceiling of the nave here in the Basilica decorated.’

  ‘Kurik,’ Talen said with some shock, ‘that ceiling’s bigger than a cow pasture. It’d take forty years to paint enough pictures to cover it.’

  ‘You’re young,’ Kurik shrugged, ‘and steady work might keep you out of trouble.’

  The door opened, and Dolmant entered. They all rose from their seats and genuflected.

  ‘Please,’ Dolmant said wearily, ‘spare me. People have been doing that ever since the overclever Queen of Elenia jammed me into a seat I didn’t really want.’

  ‘Why, Sarathi,’ she protested, ‘what a thing to say.’

  ‘We have things to discuss, my friends,’ Dolmant said, ‘and decisions to make.’ He took his seat at the head of the large conference table in the centre of the room. ‘Please sit down, and let’s get to work.’

  ‘When would you like us to schedule your coronation, Sarathi?’ Patriarch Emban asked.

  ‘That can wait. Let’s push Otha off our doorstep first. I don’t think I’d care to have him attend. How do we proceed?’

  King Wargun looked around. ‘I’ll throw out some ideas and see how the rest respond,’ he said. ‘The way I see it, we’ve got two options. We can march east until we run into the Zemochs and then fight them in open fields, or we can move out until we find suitable terrain and stop and wait for them. The first option would keep Otha farther away from Chyrellos, and the second would give us time to erect field fortifications. Both approaches have their advantages, and they both have their drawbacks as well.’ He looked around again. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we need to know what kind of a force we’re facing,’ King Dregos said.

  ‘There are a lot of people in Zemoch,’ old King Obler said.

  ‘That’s God’s own truth,’ Wargun scowled. ‘They breed like rabbits.’

  ‘We can expect to be outnumbered then,’ Obler continued. ‘If I remember my military strategy correctly, that would almost compel us to take up defensive positions. We’ll have to erode Otha’s forces before we can go on the offensive.’

  ‘Another siege,’ Komier groaned. ‘I hate sieges.’

  ‘We don’t always get what we want, Komier,’ Abriel told him. ‘There’s a third option, however, King Wargun. There are many fortified keeps and castles in Lamorkand. We can move out, occupy those strongholds in force and hold them. Otha won’t be able to by-pass them, because if he does, the troops inside will be able to come out and decimate his reserves and destroy his supply trains.’

  ‘Lord Abriel,’ Wargun said, ‘that strategy will spread us out all over central Lamorkand.’

  ‘I’ll admit that it has drawbacks,’ Abriel conceded, ‘but the last time Otha invaded, we met him head-on at Lake Randera. We virtually depopulated the continent in the process, and it took centuries for Eosia to recover. I’m not sure we want to repeat that.’

  ‘We won, didn’t we?’ Wargun said bluntly.

  ‘Do we really want to win that way again?’

  ‘There may be another alternative,’ Sparhawk said quietly.

  ‘I’d certainly be glad to hear it,’ Preceptor Darellon said. ‘I’m not too happy with any of the options I’ve heard so far.’

  ‘Sephrenia,’ Sparhawk said, ‘just how powerful is the Bhelliom really?’

  ‘I’ve told you that it’s the most powerful object in the world, dear one.’

  ‘Now there’s a thought,’ Wargun said. ‘Sparhawk could use Bhelliom to obliterate whole chunks of Otha’s army. Incidentally, Sparhawk, you are going to return Bhelliom to the royal house of Thalesia when you’re finished with it, aren’t you?’

  ‘We might discuss that, Your Majesty,’ Sparhawk said. ‘It wouldn’t really do you all that much good, though. It won’t do anything at all without the rings, and I don’t feel much like surrendering mine yet. You can ask my queen how she feels about hers, if you wish.’

  ‘My ring stays where it is,’ Ehlana said flatly.

  Sparhawk had been mulling over his earlier conversation with Sephrenia. He was growing increasingly certain that the impending confrontation was not going to be settled by vast armies clashing in central Lamorkand in the way that the one five hundred years earlier had been. He had no way to justify his certainty, since he had not reached it by logic but rather by some intuitive leap that was more Styric in nature than Elene. He somehow knew that it would be a mistake for him to immerse himself in an army. Not only would that delay him in something he must do, but it would also be dangerous. If the subversion of Sir Perraine had not been an independent act on Martel’s part, then he would be exposing himself and his friends to thousands of potential enemies, all completely unidentifiable and all armed to the teeth. Once again he absolutely had to get clear of an Elene army. His idea grew more out of that necessity than out of any real conviction that it would work. ‘Is there enough power in Bhelliom to destroy Azash?’ he asked Sephrenia. He already knew the answer, of course, but he wanted her to confirm it for the others.

  ‘What are you saying, Sparhawk?’ she asked in a tone of profound shock. ‘You’re talking about destroying a God. The whole world trembles at such a suggestion.’

  ‘I’m not raising the question to start a theological debate,’ he said. ‘Would Bhelliom be able to do it?’

  ‘I don’t know. No one’s ever had the temerity to even suggest it before.’

  ‘Where is Azash most vulnerable?’ he asked.

  ‘Only in His confinement. The Younger Gods of Styricum chained Him within that clay idol Otha found centuries ago. That’s one of the reasons He’s been seeking Bhelliom so desperately. Only the Sapphire Rose can free Him.’

&n
bsp; ‘And if the idol were to be destroyed?’

  ‘Azash would be destroyed with it.’

  ‘And what would happen if I went to the city of Zemoch, discovered that I couldn’t destroy Azash with Bhelliom and smashed the jewel instead?’

  ‘The city would be obliterated,’ she said in a troubled tone, ‘– along with any mountain ranges in the vicinity.’

  ‘I can’t really lose then, can I? Either way, Azash ceases to exist. And, if what Krager told us is true, Otha’s at Zemoch as well, along with Martel, Annias and various others. I could get them all. Once Azash and Otha are gone, the Zemoch invasion would disintegrate, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘You’re talking about throwing your life away, Sparhawk,’ Vanion said.

  ‘Better one life than millions.’

  ‘I absolutely forbid it!’ Ehlana shouted.

  ‘Forgive me, My Queen,’ Sparhawk told her, ‘but you ordered me to deal with Annias and the others. You can’t really rescind that command – at least not to me, you can’t.’

  There was a polite rap on the door, and Tynian entered with the Domi, Kring. ‘Sorry to be late,’ the Deiran Knight apologized. ‘The Domi and I have been busy with some maps. For some reason, the Zemochs have sent forces north from their main encampment on the Lamork border. There’s an infestation of them in eastern Pelosia.’

  Kring’s eyes brightened when he saw King Soros. ‘Ah, there you are, My King,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got all sorts of Zemoch ears I’d like to sell you.’

  King Soros whispered something. He still appeared to have a sore throat for some reason.

  ‘It’s starting to fit together,’ Sparhawk told the council. ‘Krager told us that Martel was taking Annias to the city of Zemoch to seek refuge with Otha.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I think the final solution to the problem we’ve been having for the last five centuries lies in the city of Zemoch and not on the plains of Lamorkand. Azash is our enemy, not Martel or Annias or Otha and his Zemochs, and we’ve got the means to destroy Azash once and for all in our hands now. Wouldn’t we be foolish not to use it? I could wear the petals off Bhelliom destroying Zemoch infantry units with it, and we’d all grow old and grey on some fluid battlefield to the north of Lake Cammoria. Wouldn’t it be better to go right to the heart of the problem – to Azash Himself? Let’s have done with this so that it doesn’t keep cropping up every half-eon or so.’