The Diamond Throne (47 page)

‘As the Lord Ulesim wishes,’ Sparhawk bowed. ‘If you would have your messenger tell Mirrelek that Mahkra is here with greetings from his little mother, I’m sure he’ll come here immediately and clear up this whole matter.’

‘You’d better hope so, Mahkra,’ the bearded disciple said threateningly. He turned to the toady who had whispered in his ear, ‘Go and fetch this Mirrelek. Repeat the message of this cowherd to him and tell him that I, Ulesim, favoured disciple of holy Arasham, command his presence immediately.’

‘At once, favoured one,’ the fellow replied and
scurried from the tent. Ulesim glowered at Sparhawk for a moment, then he and his other sycophant left the tent.

‘You’ve still got your sword, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said. ‘Why didn’t you just let the air out of that windbag? I could have dealt with the other two.’

‘It wasn’t necessary’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘I know Perraine well enough to know that by now he’s managed to make himself indispensable to Arasham. He’ll be here shortly and put Ulesim-favoured-disciple-of-holy-Arasham in his place.’

‘Aren’t you gambling, Sparhawk?’ Sephrenia asked. ‘What if Perraine doesn’t recognize the name Mahkra? As I recall, you were in Jiroch, and he’s been here in Dabour for years.’

‘He may not recognize the name I go by here in Rendor,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘but he can’t fail to recognize yours, little mother. It’s a very old password. The Pandions have been using it for years.’

She blinked. ‘I’m very flattered,’ she said, ‘but why didn’t someone tell me?’

Sparhawk turned to her in some surprise. ‘We all thought you knew.’

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when Ulesim escorted a lean, saturnine man in a striped robe into the tent. Ulesim’s manner was obsequious and his expression worried. This is the fellow I was telling you about, honoured Mirrelek,’ he fawned.

‘Ah, Mahkra,’ the lean man said, coming forward to take Sparhawk’s hand warmly in his own. ‘So good to see you again. What seems to be the trouble here?’

‘A slight misunderstanding is all, Mirrelek,’ Sparhawk replied, bowing slightly to his fellow Pandion.

‘Well, that’s all straightened out now’ Sir Perraine turned to the favoured disciple ‘Isn’t it, Ulesim?’

‘O-of course, honoured Mirrelek,’ Ulesim faltered, his face visibly pale now.

‘Whatever possessed you to detain my friends?’ Perraine’s tone was mild, but there was a slight edge to it.

‘I-I’m only trying to protect holy Arasham.’

‘Oh? And did he ask for your protection?’

‘Well – not in so many words.’

‘I see. That was very brave of you, Ulesim. Surely you know how holy Arasham feels about those who act independently of his instructions? Many have lost their heads for taking too much upon themselves.’

Ulesim began to tremble violently.

‘I’m sure he’ll forgive you when I tell him of the incident, however. A lesser man would be sent to the block immediately, but after all, you’re his favourite disciple, aren’t you? Was there anything else, Ulesim?’

Mutely, his face pasty white, Ulesim shook his head.

‘My friends and I will be going, then. Coming, Mahkra?’ Sir Perraine led them from the tent.

As they rode through the city of tents that had grown up on the outskirts of Dabour, Perraine talked at length about how depressed the cattle market currently was. The tents they passed had apparently been pitched at random, and there was nothing resembling a street. Hordes of dirty children ran and played in the sand, and dispirited-looking dogs rose from the shady side of each tent they passed to bark indifferently a few times before returning to flop down out of the sun again.

Perraine’s house was a square, blocklike structure that stood in the centre of a patch of weedy ground just beyond the tents. ‘Come inside,’ the knight told them loudly as they reached the door. ‘I want to hear more about this cattle herd of yours.’

They went in, and he closed the door. It was dim and cool inside. The house had but a single room. There were rudimentary cooking facilities on one side and an unmade bed on the other. A number of large, porous jugs
hung from the rafters, each seeping moisture which dripped into puddles on the floor. A table and two benches sat in the middle of the room. ‘It’s none too ornate,’ Perraine apologized.

Sparhawk looked meaningfully at the lone window at the back of the house, a window that seemed only loosely shuttered. ‘Is it safe to talk?’ he asked in a low voice.

Perraine laughed. ‘Oh, yes, Sparhawk,’ he replied. ‘In my spare time I’ve been nurturing a thorn bush outside that window. You’d be amazed at how much it’s grown and how long the thorns are. You’re looking well, my friend. I haven’t seen you since we were novices.’ Perraine spoke with the faintest trace of an accent. Unlike most Pandions, he was not an Elenian, but came instead from somewhere in the vast reaches of central Eosia. Sparhawk had always liked him.

‘You seem to have learned how to talk, Perraine,’ Sephrenia said. ‘You were always so silent before.’

He smiled. ‘It was my accent, little mother,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want people making fun of me.’ He took her wrists and kissed her palms in greeting and asked her blessing.

‘You remember Kurik?’ Sparhawk said.

‘Of course,’ Perraine replied. ‘He trained me with the lance. Hello, Kurik. How’s Aslade?’

‘Very well, Sir Perraine,’ Kurik said. ‘I’ll tell her you asked. What was that business back there all about-with Ulesim, I mean?’

‘He’s one of the officious toads who’ve attached themselves to Arasham.’

‘Is he really a disciple?’

Perraine snorted. ‘I doubt that Arasham even knows his name,’ he said. ‘Of course there are days when Arasham doesn’t even know his own. There are dozens like Ulesim – self-appointed disciples who go around bothering honest people. He’s probably five miles out
into the desert by now and riding very hard to get away. Arasham is very firm with people who overstep what little authority he gives them. Why don’t we all sit down?’

‘How did you manage to accumulate so much power, Perraine?’ Sephrenia asked him. ‘Ulesim behaved as if you were some king or something.’

‘It wasn’t really too hard,’ he replied. ‘Arasham has only two teeth in his head – and they don’t meet. I give him a tender, milk-fed veal every other week as a token of my unspeakable regard for him. Old men are very interested in their bellies, so Arasham is profuse in his thanks. The disciples aren’t blind, so they defer to me because of Arasham’s supposed favour. Now, what brings you to Dabour?’

‘Voren suggested that we look you up,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We need to talk with someone here, and we didn’t want to attract too much attention.’

‘My house is yours,’ Perraine said ironically, ‘such as it is. Who is it you need to talk with?’

‘A physician named Tanjin,’ Sephrenia told him, removing her veil.

Perraine looked at her rather closely ‘You
are
looking a bit unwell, Sephrenia,’ he said, ‘but couldn’t you find a physician in Jiroch?’

She smiled briefly. ‘It’s not for me, Perraine,’ she told him. ‘It has to do with someone else. Do you know this Tanjin?’

‘Everybody in Dabour knows him. He keeps quarters in the back of an apothecary shop in the central square. His house is being watched, though. There are rumours going about that he dabbles in magic sometimes, and the zealots have been trying to catch him at it.’

‘It might be better to walk to the square, wouldn’t you say?’ Sparhawk asked.

Perraine nodded.

‘And I think we’ll wait until just before the sun goes down. That way we’ll have some darkness when we come out – just in case we need it.’

‘You want me to go with you?’

‘It might be better if Sephrenia and I went alone,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘You have to stay here, and we don’t. If Tanjin’s under suspicion, visiting him could jeopardize your position here in Dabour.’

‘Stay out of alleys, Sparhawk,’ Kurik growled.

Sparhawk motioned to Flute, and she came to him obediently. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face. ‘I want you to stay here with Kurik,’ he told her

She looked at him gravely, then impudently crossed her eyes at him.

‘Stop that,’ he said. ‘Listen to me, young lady, I’m serious.’

‘Just ask her, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia advised. ‘Don’t try to order her around.’

‘Please, Flute,’ he implored. ‘Will you
please
stay here?’

She smiled sweetly, put her hands together in front of her, and curtsied.

‘You see how easy it is?’ Sephrenia said.

‘Since we’ve got some time, I’ll fix you all something to eat,’ Perraine said, rising to his feet.

‘Did you know that all your bottles are leaking, Sir Perraine?’ Kurik said, pointing at the dripping vessels hanging from the rafters.

‘Yes,’ Perraine replied. ‘They make a mess on the floor, but they help to keep it cool in here.’ He went to the hearth and fumbled for a few moments with flint, steel and tinder. He built up a very small fire of twigs and twisted chunks of the branches of desert shrubs. Then he set a kettle on the fire, took a large pan, and poured oil in
it. He set the pan on the coals and took several chunks of meat out of a covered bowl. As the oil began to smoke, he dropped the meat into the pan. ‘I’m afraid it’s only mutton,’ he apologized. ‘I wasn’t expecting company.’ He spiced the sizzling meat liberally to disguise its flavour, then brought heavy plates to the table. He went back to the fire and opened an earthenware jar. He took a pinch of tea from the jar, dropped it into a mug, and poured hot water from the kettle into the mug. ‘For you, little mother,’ he said, delivering the mug to her with a flourish.

‘How very nice,’ she said. ‘You’re such a dear, Perraine.’

‘I live but to serve,’ he said a bit grandiosely He brought fresh figs and a slab of cheese to the table, then set the smoking pan in the centre of it.

‘You’ve missed your calling, my friend,’ Sparhawk said.

‘I learned to cook for myself a long time ago. I could afford a servant, but I don’t trust strangers.’ He sat down. ‘Be careful out there, Sparhawk,’ he cautioned as they began to eat. ‘Arasham’s followers are a bit limp between the ears, and they’re all obsessed with the idea of catching some neighbour committing a minor transgression. Arasham preaches every evening, after the sun goes down, and he manages to come up with some new prohibition every night.’

‘What’s the latest one?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Killing flies. He says that they’re the messengers of God.’

‘You’re not serious.’

Perraine shrugged. ‘I think he’s running out of things to forbid, and his imagination is severely limited. You want some more of this mutton?’

‘Thanks all the same, Perraine,’ Sparhawk said, taking a fig instead, ‘but one chunk of mutton is my limit.’

‘One chunk a day?’

‘No. One a year.’

The sun was turning the western sky a rusty colour when Sparhawk and Sephrenia entered the square near the centre of Dabour, and the light reflecting from the late-afternoon sky bathed the walls of the buildings and the faces of the people in the square with a ruddy glow. Sephrenia had her left arm bound up in a makeshift sling, and Sparhawk held her other elbow solicitously as they walked.

‘It’s right over there,’ he said quietly, nodding his head towards the far side.

Sephrenia drew her veil a bit tighter across her nose and mouth, and they moved through the crowd milling around in the middle of the square.

Here and there along the walls of the buildings leaned hooded nomads in black robes, their eyes alert and filled with suspicion as they peered at every face that passed.

‘True believers,’ Sparhawk muttered sardonically, ‘ever alert for the sins of their neighbours.’

‘It’s always been that way, Sparhawk,’ she replied. ‘Self-righteousness is one of the most common – and least attractive – characteristics of man.’ They passed one of the watchers and entered the smelly shop.

The apothecary was a chubby little man with an apprehensive expression on his face. ‘I don’t know if he’ll consent to see you,’ he said when they asked to speak with Doctor Tanjin. ‘He’s being watched, you know.’

‘Yes,’ Sparhawk said. ‘We saw several of the watchers outside. Please advise him that we’re here. My sister’s arm needs attention.’

The nervous apothecary scurried through a curtained doorway at the back of the shop. A moment later, he came back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized. ‘He said he’s not taking any new patients.’

Sparhawk raised his voice. ‘How can a healer refuse to see an injured person? Does the oath they take mean so little to them here in Dabour? In Cippria, the physicians are more honourable My good friend, Doctor Voldi, would never refuse his aid to the sick or hurt.’

It hung there for a moment, and then the curtains parted. The man who thrust his head out between them had a very large nose, a pendulous lower lip, jutting ears, and weak, watery eyes. He wore the white smock of a physician. ‘Did you say Voldi?’ he asked in a high-pitched, nasal voice ‘Do you know him?’

‘Of course,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He’s a small man who’s going bald, and he dyes his hair. He has a very large opinion of himself.’

‘That’s Voldi, all right. Bring your sister back here and be quick. Don’t let anybody outside the shop see you.’

Sparhawk took Sephrenia’s elbow and escorted her back through the curtains.

‘Did anyone see you come in?’ the big-nosed man asked nervously

‘Any number of them, I’d imagine’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘They lined the walls of the square like a flock of vultures, trying to sniff out sin.’

‘It’s not safe to talk that way in Dabour, my friend,’ Tanjin warned.

‘Perhaps.’ Sparhawk looked around. The room was shabby and was piled high in the corners with open wooden boxes and stacks of books. A persistent
bumblebee batted its head against the single dirty window, trying to get out. There was a low couch against one wall and several straight-backed wooden chairs and a table in the centre. ‘Shall we get down to business, Doctor Tanjin?’ he suggested.

‘All right,’ the physician said to Sephrenia, ‘sit here, and I’ll have a look at that arm.’