Sparhawk nodded. Hes the best and kindest man I know, he said simply. If it werent for class distinctions, hed have made an almost perfect knight.
Is class really all that important?
Not to me it isnt, but I didnt make the rules.
They emerged on deck in the slanting, late-afternoon sunlight. The breeze blowing offshore was brisk, catching the tops of the waves and turning them into sun-splashed froth. Captain Mabins vessel, bound for Jiroch, was heeling over in that breeze on a course almost due west through the broad channel of the Arcian Strait. Her sails bellied out, snowy white in the afternoon sun, and she ran before the wind like a skimming sea bird.
How far do you make it to Cippria, Captain Sorgi? Sparhawk asked as he and Sephrenia stepped up onto the quarterdeck.
A hundred and fifty leagues, Master Cluff, Sorgi replied. Three days, if this wind holds.
Thats good time, isnt it?
Sorgi grunted. We could make better if this poor old tub didnt leak so much.
Sparhawk! Sephrenia gasped, taking him urgently by the arm.
What is it? He looked at her in concern. Her face had gone deathly pale.
Look! She pointed.
Some distance from where Captain Mabins graceful ship was running through the Arcian Strait, a single, densely black cloud had appeared in an otherwise unblemished sky. It seemed somehow to be moving against the wind, growing larger and more ominously black by the moment. Then it began to swirl, ponderously at first, but then faster and faster. As it spun, a long, dark finger twitched and jerked down from its centre, reaching down and down until its inky tip touched the roiling surface of the Strait. Tons of water were suddenly drawn up into the swirling maw as the vast funnel moved erratically across the heaving sea.
Waterspout! the lookout shouted down from the mast. The sailors rushed to the rail to gape in horror at the swirling spout.
Inexorably the vast thing bore down on Mabins helpless ship, and then the vessel, which suddenly appeared very tiny, vanished in the seething funnel. Chunks and pieces of her timbers spun out of the great waterspout hundreds of feet in the air to settle with agonizing slowness to the surface again. A single piece of sail fluttered down like a stricken white bird.
Then, as suddenly as they had come, the black cloud and its deadly waterspout were gone.
So was Mabins ship.
The surface of the sea was littered with debris, and a vast cloud of white gulls appeared, swooping and diving over the wreckage as if to mark the vessels passing.
Chapter 18
Captain Sorgi combed the wreckage-strewn water where Mabins ship had gone down until after dark, but he found no survivors. Then, sadly, he turned his ship southeasterly again, setting his course towards Cippria.
Sephrenia sighed and turned from the rail. Lets go below, Sparhawk.
He nodded and followed her down the companionway.
Kurik had lighted a single oil lamp, and it swung from a low overhead beam, filling the small, dark-panelled compartment with swaying shadows. Flute had awakened, and she sat at the bolted-down table in the centre of the cabin, looking suspiciously at the bowl sitting in front of her.
Its just stew, little girl, Kurik was saying to her. It wont hurt you.
She delicately dipped her fingers into the thick gravy and lifted out a dripping chunk of meat. She sniffed at it, then looked questioningly at the squire.
Salt pork, he told her.
She shuddered and dropped the chunk back into the gravy. Then she firmly pushed the bowl away.
Styrics dont eat pork, Kurik, Sephrenia told him.
The ships cook said that this is what the sailors eat, he said defensively. He looked at Sparhawk. Was the captain able to find any survivors from the other ship?
Sparhawk shook his head. That waterspout tore it all to pieces. The same thing probably happened to the crew.
Its lucky we werent on board that one.
Very lucky, Sephrenia agreed. Waterspouts are like tornadoes. They dont appear out of completely clear skies, and they dont move against the wind or change direction the way that one did. It was being consciously directed.
Magic? Kurik said. Is that really possible to call up weather like that, I mean?
I dont think I could do it.
Who did then?
I dont know for certain. Her eyes, however, showed a certain suspicion.
Lets get it out into the open, Sephrenia, Sparhawk said. Youve guessed something, havent you?
Her expression grew a bit more certain. In the past few months weve had several encounters with a hooded figure in a Styric robe. You saw it several times in Cimmura, and it tried to have us ambushed on our way to Borrata. Styrics seldom cover their faces. Have you ever noticed that?
Yes, but I dont quite make the connection.
This thing had to cover its face, Sparhawk. Its not human.
He stared at her. Are you sure?
I cant be absolutely positive until I see its face, but the evidence is beginning to pile up, wouldnt you say?
Could Annias actually do something like that?
Its not Annias. He might know a little rudimentary magic, but he couldnt begin to raise a thing like that. Only Azash could have done it. Hes the only one who dares to summon such beings. The Younger Gods will not, and even the other Elder Gods have forsworn the practice.
Why would Azash want to kill Captain Mabin and his crew?
The ship was destroyed because the creature thought that we were on board.
That goes a little far, Sephrenia, Kurik objected sceptically. If its so powerful, why did it sink the wrong boat?
The creatures of the underworld are not very sophisticated, Kurik, she replied. Our simple ruse may have deceived it. Power and wisdom dont always go hand in hand. Many of the greatest magicians of Styricum were as stupid as stumps.
I dont quite follow this, Sparhawk admitted with a puzzled frown. What were doing has nothing to do with Zemoch. Why would Azash go out of his way to help Annias?
It may be that there isnt any connection. Azash always has his own motives. Its quite possible that what hes doing has nothing to do with Annias at all.
It doesnt wash, Sephrenia. If youre right about this thing, its been working for Martel, and Martel works for Annias.
Are you so sure that the creature is working for Martel and not the other way around? Azash can see the shadows of the future. One of us might be a danger to him. The seeming alliance between Martel and the creature may be no more than a matter of convenience.
He began to gnaw worriedly at a fingernail. Thats all I need, he said, something else to worry about. Then a thought struck him. Wait a minute. Do you remember what the ghost of Lakus said that darkness was at the gate and that Ehlana was our only hope of light? Could Azash be that darkness?
She nodded. Its possible.
If thats the case, then wouldnt it be Ehlana hes trying to destroy? Shes totally protected by that crystal that encases her, but if something happens to us before we can find a way to heal her, shell die, too. Maybe thats why Azash has joined forces with the primate.
If thats the case, then wouldnt it be Ehlana hes trying to destroy? Shes totally protected by that crystal that encases her, but if something happens to us before we can find a way to heal her, shell die, too. Maybe thats why Azash has joined forces with the primate.
Arent you both stretching things a bit? Kurik asked. Youre basing a great deal of speculation on a single incident.
It doesnt hurt to be ready for eventualities, Kurik, Sparhawk replied. I hate surprises.
The squire grunted and rose to his feet. You two must be hungry, he said. Ill go down to the galley and get you some supper. We can talk some more while youre eating.
No pork, Sephrenia told him firmly.
Bread and cheese, then? he suggested. And maybe some fruit?
That would be fine, Kurik. Youd probably better bring enough for Flute as well. I know shes not going to eat that stew.
Thats all right, he said. Ill eat it for her. I dont have the same kind of prejudices that you Styrics do.
It was overcast when they reached the port city of Cippria three days later. The cloud cover was high and thin, and there was no trace of moisture in it. The city was low, with squat white buildings thickly walled to ward off the heat of the southern sun. The wharves jutting out into the harbour were constructed of stone, since Rendor was a kingdom largely devoid of trees.
Sparhawk and the others came up on deck, wearing hooded black robes, just as the sailors were mooring Captain Sorgis ship to one of the wharves. They went up the three steps to the quarterdeck to join the curly-haired seaman.
Get some fenders between our side and that wharf! Sorgi roared at the seamen who were snubbing off the mooring lines. He shook his head in disgust. I have to tell them that every single time we dock, he muttered. All they can think about when we make port is the nearest alehouse. He looked at Sparhawk. Well, Master Cluff, he said. Have you changed your mind?
Im afraid not, Captain, Sparhawk replied, setting down the bundle containing his spare clothing. Id like to oblige you, but the lady I mentioned seems to have all her hopes pinned on me. Its for your own good, actually. If you show up at her house with an introduction from me, her cousins might decide to wring my location out of you. Being wrung is not my idea of a good time. Besides, I dont want to take any chances.
Sorgi grunted. Then he looked at them all curiously. Where did you come by the Rendorish clothing?
I did some bargaining in your forecastle yesterday. Sparhawk shrugged, plucking at the front of the hooded black robe he wore. Some of your sailors like to be unobtrusive when they make port here in Rendor.
How well I know, Sorgi said wryly. I spent three days looking for the ships cook the last time I was in Jiroch. He looked at Sephrenia, who was also robed in black and wore a heavy veil across her face. Where did you find anything to fit her? he asked. None of my sailors are that small.
Shes very adept with her needle. Sparhawk did not think it necessary to explain exactly how Sephrenia had changed the colour of her white robe.
Sorgi scratched at his curly hair. I cant for the life of me understand why most Rendors wear black, he said. Dont they know that its twice as hot?
Maybe they havent realized that yet, Sparhawk replied. Rendors are none too bright in the first place, and theyve only been here for five thousand years.
Sorgi laughed. Maybe thats it, he said. Good fortune here in Cippria, Master Cluff, he said. If I happen to run across any cousins, Ill tell them that Ive never heard of you.
Thank you, Captain, Sparhawk said, clasping Sorgis hand. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.
They led their horses down the slanting gangway to the wharf. At Kuriks suggestion, they covered their saddles with blankets to conceal the fact that they were not of Rendorish construction. Then they all tied their bundles to their saddles, mounted, and moved away from the harbour at an unobtrusive walk. The streets were teeming with Rendors. The city dwellers sometimes wore lighter-coloured clothing, but the desert people were all dressed in unrelieved black and had their hoods up. There were few women in the street, and they were all veiled. Sephrenia rode subserviently behind Sparhawk and Kurik with her hood pulled far forward and her veil drawn tightly across her nose and mouth.
You know the customs here, I see, Sparhawk said back over his shoulder.
I was here many years ago, she replied, drawing her robe around Flutes knees.
How many years?
Would you like to have me tell you that Cippria was only a fishing village then? she asked archly. Twenty or so mud huts?
He looked back at her sharply. Sephrenia, Cipprias been a major seaport for fifteen hundred years.
My, she said, has it really been that long? It seems like only yesterday. Where does the time go?
Thats impossible!
She laughed gaily. How gullible you can be sometimes, Sparhawk, she said. You know Im not going to answer that kind of question, so why keep trying?
He suddenly felt more than a little sheepish. I suppose I asked for that, didnt I? he admitted.
Yes, you did.
Kurik was grinning broadly.
Go ahead and say it, Sparhawk told him sourly.
Say what, my Lord? Kuriks eyes were wide and innocent.
They rode up from the harbour, mingling with robed Rendors in the narrow, twisting streets. Although the overcast veiled the sun, Sparhawk could still feel the heat radiating out from the white-plastered walls of the houses and shops. He could also catch the familiar scents of Rendor. The air was close and dusty, and there was the pervading odour of mutton simmering in olive oil and pungent spices. There was the cloying fragrance of heavy perfumes, and overlaying it all was the persistent reek of the stockyards.
Near the centre of town, they passed the mouth of a narrow alley. A chill touched Sparhawk, and suddenly, as clearly as if they were actually ringing out their call, he seemed once again to hear the sound of the bells.
Something wrong? Kurik asked as he saw his lord shudder.
Thats the alley where I saw Martel last time.
Kurik peered up the alley. Tight quarters in there, he noted.
Thats all that kept me alive, Sparhawk replied. They couldnt come at me all at once.
Where are we going, Sparhawk? Sephrenia asked from the rear.
To the monastery where I stayed after I was wounded, he replied. I dont think we want to be seen in the streets. The abbot and most of the monks out there are Arcian, and they know how to keep secrets.
Will I be welcome there? she asked dubiously. Arcian monks are conservative, and they have certain prejudices where Styrics are concerned.
This particular abbot is a bit more cosmopolitan, Sparhawk assured her, and I have a few suspicions about his monastery anyway.
Oh?
I dont think these monks are entirely what they seem, and I wouldnt be at all surprised to find a secret armoury inside the monastery complete with burnished armour, blue surcoats and a variety of weapons.