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soft and pampered princes of the Church at the hero’s fall, thinking that their pride and power and position were safe, and spake they each in praise of Starkad and offered him good gold beyond measure for the deed he had done.

      ‘Cold, however, was the hero’s heart, and he looked upon the little men he had served, recalling with tears the great man he had slain at their bidding. “Lordlings of the Church,” quotha then. “Think ye that mere gold will satisfy me as payment for what I have done in your behalf?”

      ‘“But what else may we offer thee?” they asked in great perplexity.

      ‘“I would have Drychtnath’s forgiveness,” quoth Starkad.

      ‘“But that we may not obtain for thee,” they said unto him, “for dreaded Drychtnath lieth low in the House of the Dead from whence no man returneth. Pray, mighty hero, tell us what else we may offer thee in recompense for this great service thou hast provided us.”

      ‘“But one thing,” quoth Starkad in deadly earnest.

      ‘“And that is what?” they asked.

      ‘“Your heart’s blood,” quoth Starkad. And, so saying, sprang he to the massy door and chained it shut with chains of steel that none might escape him. Then drew he forth Hlorithn, Dread Drychtnath’s bright blade, which he had brought with him to Chyrellos for just this purpose. And then took the hero Starkad his payment for the deed he had done on the plains of the Peloi.

      ‘And when he had finished collecting that which was owed him, the Church of Chyrellos lay headless, for not one of her princes saw the setting of the sun that day, and sorrowing still that he had slain his friend, Starkad sadly took his leave of the Holy City and never returned there more.

      ‘But it is said in dark-forested Lamorkland that the oracles and the auguries speak still of the mighty Drychtnath and of the day when the War-God Hrokka will relent and release the spirit of Drychtnath from his service as one of the Immortal Thanes in the Hall of Heroes that he may come once more to Lamorkland to take up again that grand design. Then how the blood will flow, and then how the kings of the world will tremble as once again the world shakes beneath the mighty stride of Dread Drychtnath the Destroyer, and the crown and throne of the world shall lie in his immortal grip, as was from the beginning intended.’ Ortzel’s voice fell silent, indicating that he had reached the end.

      ‘That’s all?’ Talen protested vehemently.

      ‘I skipped over a great number of passages,’ Ortzel conceded, ‘battle descriptions and the like. The Lamorks of antiquity had an unhealthy fascination with certain kinds of numbers. They wanted to know how many barrels of blood, pounds of brains and yards of entrails were spilled out during the festivities.’

      ‘But the story doesn’t end right,’ Talen complained. ‘Drychtnath was the hero, but after Starkad murdered him, he turned into the hero. That isn’t right. The bad people shouldn’t be allowed to change over like that.’

      ‘That’s a very interesting argument, Talen – particularly coming from you.’

      ‘I’m not a bad person, your Grace, I’m just a thief. It’s not the same at all. At least the churchmen all got what was coming to them.’

      ‘You have a long way to go with this one, Sparhawk,’ Bevier observed. ‘We all loved Kurik like a brother, but are we really sure that his son has the makings of a Church Knight in him?’

      ‘I’m working on that,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘So that’s what Drychtnath’s all about. Just how deeply do the commons in Lamorkand believe in the story, your Grace?’

      ‘It goes deeper than belief, Sparhawk,’ Ortzel replied. ‘The story’s in our blood. I’m wholly committed to the Church, but when I hear The Drychtnathasaga, I become an absolute pagan – for a while at least.’

      ‘Well,’ Tynian said, ‘now we know what we’re up against. We have the same thing going on in Lamorkand as we have in Rendor. We’ve got heresies springing up all around us. It still doesn’t solve our problem, though. How are Sparhawk and the rest of us going to be able to go to Tamuli without insulting the emperor?’

      ‘I’ve solved that problem already, Tynian,’ Ehlana told him.

      ‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon?’

      ‘It’s so simple that I’m almost ashamed of you all that you didn’t think of it first.’

      ‘Enlighten us, your Majesty,’ Stragen said. ‘Make us blush for our stupidity.’

      ‘It’s time for the western Elene Kingdoms to open communications with the Tamul Empire,’ she explained. ‘We are neighbours, after all. It’s politically very sound for me to make a state visit to Matherion, and if you gentlemen are all very nice to me, I’ll invite you to come along.’ She frowned. ‘That was the least of our problems. Now we’ll have to address something far more serious.’

      ‘And what is that, Ehlana?’ Dolmant asked her.

      ‘I simply don’t have a thing to wear, Sarathi.’

      Sparhawk had learned to keep a tight rein on his emotions during the years since his marriage to the Queen of Elenia, but his smile was slightly fixed as the meeting broke up. Kalten fell in beside him as they all left the council chamber. ‘I gather that you’re less than pleased with our queen’s solution to the problem,’ he observed. Kalten was Sparhawk’s boyhood friend, and he had learned how to read that battered face.

      ‘You might say that, yes,’ Sparhawk replied tightly.

      ‘Are you open to a suggestion?’

      ‘I’ll listen.’ Sparhawk didn’t want to make any promises at this point.

      ‘Why don’t you and I go down into the crypt under the Basilica?’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I thought you might want to vent certain feelings before you and your wife discuss the matter. You’re a bit savage when you’re angry, Sparhawk, and I’m really very fond of your wife. If you call her an idiot to her face, you’ll hurt her feelings.’

      ‘Are you trying to be funny?’

      ‘Not in the least, my friend. I feel almost the same way about it as you do, and I’ve had a very colourful education. When you run out of swear-words, I’ll supply some you might not have heard.’

      ‘Let’s go,’ Sparhawk said, turning abruptly down a side corridor.

      They passed through the nave quickly, perfunctorily genuflecting to the altar in passing, and descended into the crypt that contained the bones of several aeons’ worth of Archprelates.

      ‘Don’t bang your fists on the walls,’ Kalten cautioned as Sparhawk began to pace up and down, swearing and waving his arms in the air. ‘You’ll break your knuckles.’

      ‘It’s a total absurdity, Kalten!’ Sparhawk said after he had shouted profanities for several minutes.

      ‘It’s worse than that, my friend. There’s always room in the world for absurdities. They’re sort of fun actually, but this is dangerous. We have no way of knowing what we’re going to encounter in Tamuli. I love your wife dearly, but having her along is going to be inconvenient.’

      ‘Inconvenient?’

      ‘I’m trying to be polite. How does “bloody hindering awkward” strike you?’

      ‘It’s closer.’

      ‘You’ll never persuade her to stay home though. I’d give that up as a lost cause before I even started. She’s obviously made up her mind, and she outranks you. You probably ought to try to put the best face on it – avoid the embarrassment of being told to shut your

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