One of them is, yes.
Perhaps that answers the question then. The magic seems to have been a part of an attempt to locate something or someone. Maybe you were the object of that search.
You mentioned sophistication, my Lord Abbot, Sephrenia said intently. Could you be a bit more specific?
There was a glowing apparition stalking the streets of Cippria, he replied. It seemed to be sheathed in lightning of some kind.
She drew in her breath sharply. And what exactly did this apparition do?
It questioned people. None of them could remember the questions afterwards, but the questioning appears to have been quite severe. I saw a number of the burns with my own eyes.
Burns?
The apparition would seize whomever it wanted to question. Wherever it touched them, it left a burned place. One poor woman had a burn that encircled her entire forearm. Id almost say that it was in the shape of a hand except that it had far too many fingers.
How many fingers?
Nine, and two thumbs.
She hissed. A Damork, she said.
I thought you said that the Younger Gods had stripped Martel of the power to summon those things. Sparhawk said to her.
Martel didnt summon it, she replied. It was sent to do his bidding by someone else.
It amounts to almost the same thing then, doesnt it?
Not exactly. The Damork is only marginally under Martels control.
But all this happened ten years ago, Kurik shrugged. What difference does it make now?
Youre missing the point, Kurik, she replied gravely. We thought that the Damork had appeared only recently, but it was here in Cippria ten years ago, before anything were involved with now even began.
I dont quite follow you, he admitted.
Sephrenia looked at Sparhawk. Its you, dear one, she said in a deadly quiet voice. Its not me or Kurik or Ehlana or even Flute. The Damork attacks have all been directed at you. Be very, very careful, Sparhawk. Azash is trying to kill you.
Chapter 19
Doctor Voldi was a fussy little man in his sixties. His hair was thinning on top, and he had carefully combed it forward to conceal the fact. It was quite obvious that he dyed it to hide the encroaching grey. He removed his dark cloak, and Sparhawk saw that he wore a white linen smock. He smelled of chemicals, and he had an enormous opinion of himself.
It was quite late when the little physician was ushered into the abbots littered study, and he was struggling without much success to cover his irritation at having been called out at that hour. My Lord Abbot, he stiffly greeted the black-bearded churchman with a jerky little bow.
Ah, Voldi, the abbot said, rising to his feet, so good of you to come.
Your monk said that the matter was urgent, my Lord. May I see the patient?
Not unless youre prepared to make a very long journey, Doctor Voldi, Sephrenia murmured.
Voldi gave her a long, appraising look. You appear not to be a Rendor, madame, he noted. Styric, I should say, judging from your features.
Your eyes are keen, Doctor.
Im sure you remember this fellow, the abbot said, pointing at Sparhawk.
The doctor looked blankly at the big Pandion. No, he said, I cant say that Then he frowned. Dont tell me, he added, absently brushing his hair forward with the palm of his hand. It was about ten years ago, wasnt it? Werent you the one whod been knifed?
You have a good memory, Doctor Voldi, Sparhawk said. We dont want to keep you out too late, so why dont we get down to cases? We were referred to you by a physician in Borrata. He greatly respects your opinion in certain areas. Sparhawk quickly appraised the little fellow and decided to apply a bit of judicious flattery. Of course, wed have probably come to you anyway, he added. Your reputation has spread far beyond the borders of Rendor.
Well, Voldi said, preening himself slightly. Then he assumed a piously modest expression. Its gratifying to know that my efforts on behalf of the sick have received some small recognition.
What we need, good doctor, Sephrenia interjected, is your advice in treating a friend of ours who has recently been poisoned.
Poisoned? Voldi said sharply. Are you sure?
The physician in Borrata was quite certain, she replied. We described our friends symptoms in great detail, and he diagnosed the condition as being the effects of a rather rare Rendorish poison called ?
Please, madame, he said, holding up one hand. I prefer to make my own diagnoses. Describe the symptoms to me.
Of course. Patiently she repeated what she had told the physicians at the University of Borrata.
The little doctor paced up and down as she talked, his hands clasped behind him and his eyes on the floor. I think we can rule out the falling-sickness right at the outset, he mused when she had finished. Some other diseases, however, do result in convulsions. He affected a wise expression. Its the combination of the fever and sweating thats the crucial clue, he lectured. Your friends illness is not a natural disease. My colleague in Borrata was quite correct in his diagnosis. Your friend has indeed been poisoned, and I would surmise that the poison involved was Darestim. The desert nomads here in Rendor call it deathweed. It kills sheep in the same way that it kills people. The poison is very rare, since the nomads uproot every bush they come across. Does my diagnosis agree with that of my Cammorian colleague?
Exactly, Doctor Voldi, she said admiringly.
Well, thats it, then. He reached for his cloak. Im glad to have been of help.
All right, Sparhawk said. Now what do we do?
Make arrangements for a funeral. Voldi shrugged.
What about an antidote?
There isnt any. Im afraid your friend is doomed. There was an irritating smugness about the way he said it. Unlike most poisons, Darestim attacks the brain instead of the blood. Once its ingested poof. He snapped his fingers. Tell me, does your friend have rich and powerful enemies? Darestim is fearfully expensive.
The poisoning was politically motivated, Sparhawk said bleakly.
Ah, politics. Voldi laughed. Those fellows have all the money, dont they? He frowned then. It does seem to me He broke off, palming at his hair again. Where did I hear that? He scratched at his head, disturbing the carefully slicked-down hair. Then he snapped his fingers again. Ah yes, he said triumphantly, I have it now. Ive heard some rumours only rumours, mind you that a physician in Dabour has effected a few cures members of the kings family in Zand. Normally that information would have been immediately disseminated to all other physicians, but I have some suspicions about the matter. I know the fellow, and there have been some ugly stories about him circulating in medical circles for years now. There are some who maintain that his miraculous-appearing cures are the result of certain forbidden practices.
Which practices? Sephrenia asked intently.
Which practices? Sephrenia asked intently.
Magic, madame. What else? My friend in Dabour would immediately lose his head if word got out that he was practising witchcraft.
I see, she said. Did this rumour about a cure come to you from one single source?
Oh, no, he replied. Any number of people have told me about it. The kings brother and several nephews fell ill. The physician from Dabour Tanjin his name is was summoned to the palace. He confirmed that they had all been poisoned with Darestim, and then he cured them. Out of gratitude, the king suppressed the information of exactly how the cures were effected, and he issued Tanjin a full pardon just to make sure. He smirked. Not that the pardon is much good, mind you, since the kings authority doesnt go much beyond the walls of his own palace in Zand. Anyway, anyone with the slightest bit of medical knowledge knows how it was done. He assumed a lofty expression. I wouldnt stoop to that myself, he declared, but Doctor Tanjin is notoriously greedy, and I imagine that the king paid him handsomely.
Thank you for your assistance, Doctor Voldi, Sparhawk said then.
Im sorry about your friend, Voldi said. By the time you get to Dabour and back, hell be long since dead, Im afraid. Darestim works rather slowly, but its always fatal.
Sos a sword through the belly, Sparhawk said grimly. At the very least, well be able to avenge our friend.
What a dreadful thought, Voldi shuddered. Are you at all acquainted with the kind of damage a sword does to someone?
Intimately, Sparhawk replied.
Oh, thats right. You would be, wouldnt you? Would you like to have me take a look at those old wounds of yours?
Thanks all the same, Doctor. Theyre quite healed now.
Splendid. Im rather proud of the way I cured those, you know. A lesser physician would have lost you. Well, I must be off now. I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow. He wrapped his cloak about him.
Thank you, Doctor Voldi, the abbot said. The brother at the door will escort you home again.
My pleasure, my Lord Abbot. Its been a stimulating discussion. Voldi bowed and left the room.
Pompous little ass, isnt he? Kurik muttered.
Yes, he is, the abbot agreed. Hes very good, though.
Its thin, Sparhawk, Sephrenia sighed, very, very thin. All we have are rumours, and we dont have time for wild goose chases.
I dont see that we have any choice, do you? We have to go to Dabour. We cant ignore the slightest chance.
It may not be quite as thin as you think, Lady Sephrenia, the abbot said. I know Voldi very well. He wouldnt confirm anything he hasnt seen with his own eyes, but Ive heard a few rumours myself to the effect that some members of the family of the King of Rendor fell ill and then recovered.
Its all weve got, Sparhawk said. Weve got to follow through on it.
The fastest way to Dabour is by sea along the coast and then up the Gule River, the abbot suggested.
No, Sephrenia said firmly. The creature thats been trying to kill Sparhawk has probably realized by now that it failed last time. I dont think we want to be looking over our shoulders for waterspouts every foot of the way.
Youll have to go to Dabour by way of Jiroch anyway, the abbot told them. You cant go overland. No one crosses the desert between here and Dabour, even at this time of year. Its totally impassable.
If thats the way we have to do it, then thats the way well do it, Sparhawk said.
Be careful out there, the abbot cautioned seriously. The Rendors are in a state of turmoil right now.
Theyre always in a state of turmoil, my Lord.
This is a bit different. Arashams at Dabour preaching up a new holy war.
Hes been doing that for over twenty years now, hasnt he? He stirs up the desert people all winter, and then in the summer they go back to their flocks.
Thats whats different about this time, Sparhawk. Nobody pays much attention to the nomads, but somehow the old lunatics beginning to sway the people who live in the cities, and that makes it a little more serious. Arashams elated, of course, and hes holding his desert nomads firmly at Dabour. Hes got quite an army.
The city people in Rendor arent all that stupid. Whats impressing them so much?
Ive heard that there are some people spreading rumours. Theyre telling the townsfolk that theres a great deal of sympathy for the resurgence of the Eshandist movement in the northern kingdoms.
Thats absurd, Sparhawk scoffed.
Of course it is, but theyve managed to persuade a fair number of people here in Cippria that for the first time in centuries a rebellion against the Church might have some chance of success. Not only that, there have been fairly large shipments of arms filtered into the country.
A suspicion began to grow in Sparhawks mind. Have you any idea whos been circulating these rumours? he asked.
The abbot shrugged. Merchants, travellers from the north, and the like. Theyre all foreigners. They usually stay in that quarter near the Elenian consulate.
Isnt that curious? Sparhawk mused. Id been summoned to the Elenian consulate that night when I was attacked in the street. Is Elius still the consul?
Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he is. What are you getting at, Sparhawk?
One more question, my Lord. Have your people by any chance seen a white-haired man going in and out of the consulate?
I couldnt really say. I didnt tell them to look for that sort of thing. You have someone particular in mind, I gather?
Oh, I do indeed, my Lord Abbot. Sparhawk rose and began to pace up and down. Why dont I have another try at Elene logic, Sephrenia, he said. He began to tick items off on his fingers. One: The Primate Annias aspires to the Archprelates throne. Two: All four militant orders oppose him, and their opposition could block his ambitions. Three: In order to get that throne, he must discredit or divert the Church Knights. Four: The Elenian consul here in Cippria is his cousin. Five: The consul and Martel have had dealings with each other before. I got some personal evidence of that ten years ago.
I didnt know that Elius was related to the primate, the abbot said, looking a bit surprised.
They dont make an issue of it, Sparhawk told him. Now then, he continued, Annias wants the Church Knights out of Chyrellos when the time comes to elect a new Archprelate. What would the Church Knights do if there were an uprising here in Rendor?
Wed descend on the kingdom in full battle array, the abbot declared, forgetting that his choice of words clearly confirmed Sparhawks suspicions about the nature of his order.
And that would effectively remove the militant orders from the debate over the election in Chyrellos, wouldnt it?
Sephrenia looked at Sparhawk speculatively. What kind of man is this Elius?
Hes a petty time-server with little intelligence and less imagination.
He doesnt sound very impressive.
He isnt.
Then someone else would have to be giving him instructions, wouldnt they?