The Ruby Knight

The Preceptor was grey-faced, and his hands trembled slightly. The burden of the swords of the three dead knights he had compelled Sephrenia to relinquish to him was obviously weighing him down more than he would have admitted. The spell Sephrenia had cast in the throne-room and which sustained the queen had involved the concerted assistance of twelve Pandion Knights. One by one those knights would die, and their ghosts would deliver their swords to Sephrenia. When the last had died, she would follow them into the House of the Dead. Earlier that evening, Vanion had compelled her to give those swords to him. It was not the weight of the swords alone which made them such a burden. There were other things that went with them, things about which Sparhawk could not even begin to guess. Vanion had been adamant about taking the swords. He had given a few vague reasons for his action, but Sparhawk privately suspected that the Preceptor’s main reason had been to spare Sephrenia as much as possible. Despite all the strictures forbidding such things, Sparhawk believed that Vanion loved the dear, small woman who had instructed all Pandions for generations in the secrets of Styricum. All Pandion Knights loved and revered Sephrenia. In Vanion’s case, however, Sparhawk surmised that love and reverence went perhaps a step further. Sephrenia also, he had noticed, seemed to have a special affection for the Preceptor that went somewhat beyond the love of a teacher for her pupil. This was also something that a Church Knight should reveal to the Hierocracy in Chyrellos. Again, Sparhawk chose not to.

‘Why are we gathering at this unseemly hour?’ Vanion asked wearily.

‘Do you want to tell him?’ Sparhawk asked Sephrenia.

The white-robed woman sighed and unwrapped the long, cloth-bound object she held to reveal another ceremonial Pandion sword. ‘Sir Tanis has gone into the House of the Dead,’ she told Vanion sadly.

‘Tanis?’ Vanion’s voice was stricken. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Just recently, I gather,’ she replied.

‘Is that why we’re here tonight?’ Vanion asked Sparhawk.

‘Not entirely. Before he went to deliver his sword to Sephrenia, Tanis visited me – or at least his ghost did. He told me that someone in the royal crypt wanted to see me. I went to the cathedral and I was confronted by the ghost of Aldreas. He told me a number of things and then gave me this.’ He twisted the shaft of the spear out of its socket and shook the ruby ring out of its place of concealment.

‘So that’s where Aldreas hid it,’ Vanion said. ‘Maybe he was wiser than we thought. You said he told you some things. Such as what?’

‘That he had been poisoned,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Probably the same poison they gave Ehlana.’

‘Was it Annias?’ Kalten asked grimly.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘No. It was Princess Arissa.’

‘His own sister?’ Bevier exclaimed. ‘That’s monstrous!’ Bevier was an Arcian, and he had deep moral convictions.

‘Arissa is fairly monstrous,’ Kalten agreed. ‘She’s not the sort to let little things stand in her way. How did she get out of the cloister in Demos to dispose of Aldreas, though?’

‘Annias arranged it,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘She entertained Aldreas in her usual fashion, and when he was exhausted, she gave him the poisoned wine.’

‘I don’t quite understand,’ Bevier frowned.

‘The relationship between Arissa and Aldreas went somewhat beyond what is customary for a brother and sister,’ Vanion told him delicately.

Bevier’s eyes widened and the blood drained from his olive-skinned face as he slowly gathered Vanion’s meaning.

‘Why did she kill him?’ Kalten asked. ‘Revenge for locking her up in that cloister?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘I think it was a part of the overall scheme she and Annias had hatched. First they poisoned Aldreas and then Ehlana.’

‘So the way to the throne would be clear for Arissa’s bastard son?’ Kalten surmised.

‘It’s sort of logical,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘It fits together even tighter when you know that Lycheas the bastard is Annias’s son too.’

‘A Churchman?’ Tynian said, looking a bit startled. ‘Do you people here in Elenia have different rules from the rest of us?’

‘Not really, no,’ Vanion replied. ‘Annias seems to feel that he’s above the rules, and Arissa goes out of her way to break them.’

‘Arissa’s always been just a little indiscriminate,’ Kalten added. ‘Rumour has it that she was on very friendly terms with just about every man in Cimmura.’

‘That might be a slight exaggeration,’ Vanion said. He stood up and went to the window. ‘I’ll pass this information on to Patriarch Dolmant,’ he said, looking out at the foggy night. ‘He may be able to make some use of it when the time comes to elect a new Archprelate.’

‘And perhaps the Earl of Lenda might be able to use it as well,’ Sephrenia suggested. ‘The royal council is corrupt, but even they might balk if they find that Annias is trying to put his own bastard son on the throne.’ She looked at Sparhawk. ‘What else did Aldreas tell you?’ she asked.

‘Just one other thing. We know we need some magic object to cure Ehlana. He told me what it is. It’s Bhelliom. It’s the only thing in the world with enough power.’

Sephrenia’s face blanched. ‘No!’ she gasped. ‘Not Bhelliom!’

‘That’s what he told me.’

‘It presents a big problem,’ Ulath declared. ‘Bhelliom’s been lost since the Zemoch war, and even if we’re lucky enough to find it, it won’t respond unless we have the rings.’

‘Rings?’ Kalten asked.

‘The Troll-Dwarf, Ghwerig, made Bhelliom,’ Ulath explained. ‘Then he made a pair of rings to unlock its power. Without the rings, Bhelliom’s useless.’

‘We already have the rings,’ Sephrenia told him absently, her face still troubled.

‘We do?’ Sparhawk was startled.

‘You’re wearing one of them,’ she told him, ‘and Aldreas gave you the other this very night.’

Sparhawk stared at the ruby ring on his left hand, then back at his teacher. ‘How’s that possible?’ he demanded. ‘How did my ancestor and King Antor come by these particular rings?’

‘I gave them to them,’ she replied.

He blinked. ‘Sephrenia, that was three hundred years ago.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘approximately.’

Sparhawk stared at her, then swallowed hard. ‘Three hundred years?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Sephrenia, just how old are you?’

‘You know I’m not going to answer that question, Sparhawk. I’ve told you that before.’

‘How did you get the rings?’

‘My Goddess, Aphrael, gave them to me – along with certain instructions. She told me where I’d find your ancestor and King Antor, and she told me to deliver the rings to them.’

‘Little mother,’ Sparhawk began, and then broke off as he saw her bleak expression.

‘Hush, dear one,’ she commanded. ‘I will say this only once, Sir Knights,’ she told them all. ‘What we do puts us in conflict with the Elder Gods, and that is not lightly undertaken. Your Elene God forgives; the Younger Gods of Styricum can be persuaded to relent. The Elder Gods, however, demand absolute compliance with their whims. To counter the commands of an Elder God is to court worse than death. They obliterate those who defy them – in ways you cannot imagine. Do we really want to bring Bhelliom back into the light again?’

‘Sephrenia! We have to!’ Sparhawk exclaimed. ‘It’s the only way we can save Ehlana – and you and Vanion for that matter.’

‘Annias will not live forever, Sparhawk, and Lycheas is hardly more than an inconvenience. Vanion and I are temporary, and so, for that matter – regardless of how you feel personally – is Ehlana. The world won’t miss any of us all that much.’ Sephrenia’s tone was almost clinical. ‘Bhelliom, however, is another matter – and so is Azash. If we fail and put the stone into that foul God’s hands, we will doom the world forever. Is it worth the risk?’

‘I’m the queen’s champion,’ Sparhawk reminded her. ‘I have to do whatever I possibly can to save her life.’ He rose and strode across the room to her. ‘So help me God, Sephrenia,’ he declared, ‘I’ll break open Hell itself to save that girl.’

‘He’s such a child sometimes,’ Sephrenia sighed to Vanion. ‘Can’t you think of some way to make him grow up?’