The Ruby Knight (16 page)

‘It's a big stretch of country,' Sparhawk winced.

‘That it is, friend, that it is, but yer followin' the right trail. There's them in Pelosia an' Deira as takes the same pleasure in the old tales as me'n old Farsh does, an' the closer y' get to wherever it is this king yer lookin' fer is buried, the better yer chances are gonna be of findin' somebody as kin tell y' what y' want to know.'

‘That's true, I suppose.' Sparhawk took a sip of beer. It was cloudy, but it was about the best he had ever tasted.

Wat leaned back in his chair, scratching at his chest. ‘Fact of the matter is, friend, that the battle was just too big fer any one man t' see it all. I pretty much know what went on around here, an' Farsh, he knows what went on down around the village an' on south. We all know in a general sorta way what happened overall, but when y' want to get down to specifics, y' gotta talk with somebody as lives fairly close to where it actual happened.'

Sparhawk sighed. ‘It's just a matter of pure luck, then,' he said glumly. ‘We could ride right past the man who knows the story and never even think to ask him.'

‘Now, that's not entirely true, friend,' Wat disagreed. ‘Us fellers as like to swap stories, we knows one another. Old Farsh, he sent y' t' me, an' I kin send y' on to another feller I know in Paler up there in Pelosia. He's gonna know a lot more about what went on up there than I do,
an' he'll know others as knows even more about what went on close t' where
they
live. That's what I meant when I said y' was followin' the right trail. All y' need t' do is go from feller t' feller until y' git the story y' want. It's a lot faster'n diggin' up all of northern Pelosia or Deira.'

‘You might be right at that.'

The wall-eyed man grinned crookedly. ‘Not meanin' no offence, yer worship, but you gentle-folk think that us commoners don't know nothin', but when y' stack us all together, there's not very much in this world we
don't
know.'

‘I'll remember that,' Sparhawk said. ‘Who's this man in Paler?'

‘He's a tanner, name of Berd – silly name, but Pelosians is like that. His tanyard's just outside the north gate of the city. They wouldn't let him set up inside the walls on accounta the smell, y' know. You go see Berd, an' if he don't know the story y' want to hear, he'll probably know somebody as does – or at least somebody as kin tell y' who y' oughtta talk to.'

Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘Wat,' he said, ‘you've been a real help.' He handed the fellow a few coins. ‘The next time you go to the village, have yourself a few tankards of beer, and if you run into Farsh, buy him one too.'

‘Why, thankee, yer worship,' Wat said. ‘I most surely will. An' good luck in yer search.'

‘Thank you.' Then Sparhawk remembered something. ‘I'd like to buy some firewood from you, if you can spare any.' He handed Wat a few more coins.

‘Why, certainly, yer worship. Come along to the barn, an' I'll show you where it's stacked.'

‘That's all right, Wat,' Sparhawk smiled. ‘We've already got it. Come along, Talen.'

The rain had stopped entirely when Sparhawk and
Talen came out of the house, and they could see blue sky out over the lake to the west.

‘You had to go and do that, didn't you?' Talen said in a disgusted tone of voice.

‘He
was
very helpful, Talen,' Sparhawk said defensively.

‘That has nothing to do with it. Did we really get very far with this?'

‘It was a start,' Sparhawk replied. ‘Wat may not look very bright, but he's really very shrewd. The plan of going from storyteller to storyteller is about the best we've come up with so far.'

‘It's going to take a while, you know.'

‘Not as long a while as some of the other notions we've had.'

‘The trip wasn't wasted then.'

‘We'll know better after we talk with that tanner in Paler.'

Ulath and Berit had strung a rope near the fire and were hanging wet clothes over it when Sparhawk and the boy returned to camp. ‘Any luck?' Ulath asked.

‘Some, I hope,' Sparhawk replied. ‘It's fairly certain that King Sarak didn't get this far south. It seems that there was a lot more fighting up in Pelosia and Deira than Bevier read about.'

‘What next, then?'

‘We go to the town of Paler up in Pelosia and talk to a tanner named Berd. If he hasn't heard about Sarak, he can probably send us on to someone who has. How's Tynian?'

‘He's still asleep. Bevier's awake, though, and Sephrenia got him to drink some soup.'

‘That's a good sign. Let's go inside and talk with her. Now that the weather's clearing, I think it's safe to move on.'

They trooped into the tent, and Sparhawk repeated the gist of what Wat had said.

‘The plan has merit, Sparhawk,' Sephrenia approved. ‘How far is it to Paler?'

‘Talen, go and get my map, would you?'

‘Why me?'

‘Because I asked you to.'

‘Oh. All right.'

‘Just the map, Talen,' Sparhawk added. ‘Don't take anything else out of the pack.'

The boy returned after a few moments, and Sparhawk unfolded the map. ‘All right,' he said. ‘Paler's up here at the north end of the lake-just across the Pelosian border. I make it about ten leagues.'

‘That wagon won't move very fast,' Kurik told him, ‘and we don't want to jolt these men around. It's probably going to take at least two days.'

‘At least once we get them to Paler we should be able to find a physician for them,' Sephrenia said.

‘We really don't have to use the wagon,' Bevier objected. His face was pale, and he was sweating profusely. ‘Tynian is much better, and Kalten and I aren't hurt that badly. We can ride.'

‘Not while I'm giving the orders, you can't,' Sparhawk told him. ‘I'm not going to gamble your lives just to save a few hours.' He went to the door of the tent and looked out. ‘It's coming on to evening,' he noted. ‘We'll all get a good night's sleep and start out first thing in the morning.'

Kalten grunted and sat up painfully. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Now that that's settled, what's for supper?'

After they had eaten, Sparhawk went out and sat by the fire. He was staring morosely into the flames when Sephrenia joined him. ‘What is it, dear one?' she asked him.

‘Now that I've had time to think about it, this is a really far-fetched notion, isn't it? We could wander around Pelosia and Deira for the next twenty years listening to old men tell stories.'

‘I don't really think so, Sparhawk,' she disagreed. ‘Sometimes I get hunches – little flashes of the future. Somehow I feel that we're on the right course.'

‘Hunches, Sephrenia?' he said with some amusement.

‘Maybe a little stronger than that, but it's a word that Elenes wouldn't understand.'

‘Are you trying to say you can actually see into the future?'

She laughed. ‘Oh, no,' she replied. ‘Only the Gods can do that, and even they're imperfect at it. About all I can really perceive is when something's right and when it isn't. This somehow
feels
right. There's one other thing, too,' she added. ‘The ghost of Aldreas told you that the time has come for Bhelliom to emerge again. I know what Bhelliom is capable of. It can control things in ways we can't even imagine. If it wants
us
to be the ones who find it, nothing on earth will be able to stop us. I think you might find that the storytellers up there in Pelosia and Deira will tell us things they've thought they've forgotten, and even things they never knew.'

‘Isn't that just a little mystic?'

‘Styrics
are
mystics, Sparhawk. I thought you knew that.'

They slept late the following morning. Sparhawk awoke before daybreak, but decided to let his companions rest. They had been long on the road, and the horror of the previous day had taken its toll. He went out some way from the tents to watch the sun rise. The sky overhead was clear, and the stars were still out. Despite Sephrenia's assurances the previous evening, Sparhawk's mood was sombre. When they had begun, the sense that their cause was just and noble had led him to believe that somehow they would prevail against almost anything. The events of the previous day, however, had proved to him just how wrong he had been about that. He would venture anything to bring his pale young queen back to health, even to the point of throwing his own life into the crucible, but did he have the right to risk his friends?

‘What's the problem?' He recognized Kurik's voice without looking around.

‘I don't know, Kurik,' he admitted. ‘It all feels as if I'm trying to hold sand in my fist, and this plan of ours doesn't really make much sense, does it? Trying to track down five-hundred-year-old stories is really rather absurd, don't you think?'

‘No, Sparhawk,' Kurik said, ‘not really. You could run around northern Pelosia or Deira with a spade for the next two hundred years and not even come close to Bhelliom. The farmer was right, you know. Trust the people, My Lord. In many ways, the people are wiser than the nobility – or even the Church, for that matter.'
Kurik coughed uncomfortably. ‘You don't necessarily have to tell Patriarch Dolmant I said that,' he amended.

‘Your secret is safe, my friend.' Sparhawk smiled. ‘There's something we're going to have to talk about.'

‘Oh?'

‘Kalten, Bevier and Tynian are more or less out of action.'

‘You know, I believe you're right.'

‘That's a bad habit, Kurik.'

‘Aslade says the same thing.'

‘Your wife's a wise woman. All right. Part of our success in getting around difficulties has been the presence of men in armour. Most people don't interfere with the Knights of the Church. The trouble is that now there's only going to be Ulath and me.'

‘I can count, Sparhawk. What's your point?'

‘Could you fit into Bevier's armour?'

‘Probably. It might not be very comfortable, but I could adjust the straps a bit. The point, though, is that I won't do it.'

‘What's the problem? You've worn armour on the practice field.'

‘That was on the field. Everybody knew who I was, and they knew why I was doing it. This is out in the world, and that's altogether different.'

‘I really don't see the distinction, Kurik.'

‘There are laws about that sort of thing, Sparhawk. Only knights are permitted to wear armour, and I'm not a knight.'

‘The difference is very slight.'

‘But it's still a difference.'

‘You're going to make me order you to do this, aren't you?'

‘I wish you wouldn't.'

‘I wish I didn't have to. I'm not trying to offend your
sensibilities, Kurik, but this is an unusual situation. It involves our safety. You'll wear Bevier's armour, and I think we can stuff Berit into Kalten's. He's worn mine before, and Kalten and I are about the same size.'

‘You're going to insist, then?'

‘I don't really have any choice. We've got to get through to Paler without any incidents along the way. I've got some injured men, and I don't want to risk them.'

‘I understand the reasons, Sparhawk. I'm not stupid, after all. I don't like it, but you're probably right.'

‘I'm glad we agree.'

‘Don't get too ecstatic about it. I want it clearly understood that I'm doing this under protest.'

‘If there's ever any trouble about it, I'll swear to that.'

‘That's assuming you're still alive,' Kurik replied sourly. ‘You want me to wake the others?'

‘No. Let them sleep. You were right last night. It's going to take two days to get to Paler. That gives us a little time to play with.'

‘You're very worried about time, aren't you, Sparhawk?'

‘We've only got so much of it left,' Sparhawk replied sombrely. ‘This business of running around listening to old men tell stories is likely to chew up a great deal of it. It's coming up to the point where another one of the twelve knights is going to die, and he'll give his sword to Sephrenia. You know how that weakens her.'

‘She's a lot stronger than she looks. She could probably carry as much as you and I put together.' Kurik glanced back towards the tents. ‘I'll go and build up the fire and put her tea-kettle on to boil. She usually wakes up early.' And he went back towards the camp.

Ulath, who had been standing watch nearby, loomed out of the shadows. ‘That was a very interesting conversation,' he rumbled.

‘You were listening.'

‘Obviously. Voices carry a long way at night.'

‘You don't approve – about the armour, I mean?'

‘It doesn't bother me, Sparhawk. We're a lot less formal in Thalesia than you are down here. A fair number of Genidian Knights are not, strictly speaking, of noble birth.' He grinned, his teeth flashing. ‘We usually wait until King Wargun is roaring drunk and then file them in so he can bestow titles on them. Several of my friends are barons of places that don't even exist.' He rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘Sometimes I think this whole nobility business is a farce anyway. Men are men – titled or not. I don't think God cares, so why should we?'

‘You're going to stir up a revolution talking like that, Ulath.'

‘Maybe it's time for one. It's starting to get light over there.' Ulath pointed towards the eastern horizon.

‘Right. It looks as if we might have good weather today.'

‘Check with me this evening, and I'll let you know.'

‘Don't people in Thalesia try to predict the weather?'

‘Why? You can't do anything about it. Why don't we go and have a look at your map? I know a bit about ships and currents and prevailing winds and the like. It could just be that I can make some guesses about where King Sarak made his landfall. We might be able to figure out which route he took. That could narrow things down just a bit.'

‘Not a bad idea,' Sparhawk agreed. ‘If we can work that out, at least we'll have some idea of where to start asking questions.' Sparhawk hesitated. ‘Ulath,' he said seriously, ‘is Bhelliom really as dangerous as they say it is?'

‘Probably even more so. Ghwerig made it, and he's not really very pleasant – even for a Troll.'

‘You said “is”. Don't you mean “was”? He's dead by now, isn't he?'

‘Not that I've heard, and I rather doubt it. There's something you ought to know about Trolls, Sparhawk. They don't die of old age like other creatures. You have to kill them. If somebody had managed to kill Ghwerig, he'd have boasted about it, and I'd have heard the story. There's not much to do in Thalesia in the wintertime except listen to stories. The snow piles up by the foot there, so we usually stay inside. Let's go and have a look at that map.'

As they walked back towards the tents, Sparhawk decided that he liked Ulath. The huge Genidian Knight was normally very silent, but once you managed to unlock his friendship, he spoke with a kind of droll understatement that was often even more amusing than Kalten's exaggerated humour. Sparhawk's companions were good men – the best, actually. They were all different, of course, but that was only to be expected. Whatever the outcome of their search might be, he was glad that he had had the opportunity to know them.

Sephrenia stood by the fire drinking tea. ‘You're up early,' she noted as the two knights came into the circle of light. ‘Have the plans changed? Are we in some hurry to leave?'

‘Not really,' Sparhawk told her, kissing her palm in greeting.

‘Please don't spill my tea,' she cautioned.

‘No, ma'am,' he agreed. ‘We're not going to be able to cover much more than five leagues today, so let the others sleep a while longer. That wagon's not going to move very fast, and besides, after what's been happening, I don't think wandering around in the dark would be such a good idea. Is Berit awake yet?'

‘I think I heard him stirring around.'

‘I'm going to put him in Kalten's armour and have Kurik wear Bevier's. Maybe we can intimidate anybody who might be feeling unfriendly.'

‘Is that all you Elenes ever think about?'

‘A good bluff is sometimes better than a good fight,' Ulath growled. ‘I like deceiving people.'

‘You're as bad as Talen is.'

‘No, not really. My fingers aren't nimble enough for cutting purses. If I decide I want what's in a man's purse, I'll hit him on the head and take it.'

She laughed. ‘I'm surrounded by scoundrels.'

The day dawned bright and sunny. The sky was very blue, and the wet grass that covered the surrounding hills was shiny green.

‘Whose turn is it to cook breakfast?' Sparhawk asked Ulath.

‘Yours.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes.'

They roused the others, and Sparhawk got the cooking utensils out of one of the packs.

After they had eaten, Kurik and Berit cut spare lances from a nearby thicket while Sparhawk and Ulath helped their injured friends into Talen's rickety wagon.

‘What's wrong with the ones we've got?' Ulath asked when Kurik returned with the lances.

‘They tend to break,' Kurik said, tying the poles to the side of the wagon, ‘particularly in view of the way you gentlemen use them. It never hurts to have extra ones.'

‘Sparhawk,' Talen said quietly, ‘there are some more of those people in white smocks out there. They're hiding in that brush along the edge of the field.'

‘Could you tell what kind they were?'

‘They had swords,' the boy replied.

‘Zemochs then. How many of them are there?'

‘I saw four.'

Sparhawk went over to Sephrenia. ‘There's a small group of Zemochs hiding at the edge of the field. Would the Seeker's people try to hide?'

‘No. They'd attack immediately.'

‘That's what I thought.'

‘What are you going to do?' Kalten asked.

‘Run them off. I don't want any of Otha's men trailing along behind us. Ulath, let's mount up and chase those people for a while.'

Ulath grinned and hauled himself into his saddle.

‘You want your lances?' Kurik asked.

‘Not for a job this small,' Ulath grunted, drawing his axe.

Sparhawk climbed up onto Faran's back, strapped on his shield and drew his sword. He and Ulath set out at a menacing walk. After a few moments, the hidden Zemochs broke from their cover and fled, crying out in alarm. ‘Let's run them for a bit,' Sparhawk suggested. ‘I want them to be too winded to turn around and come back.'

‘Right,' Ulath agreed, pushing his horse into a canter.

The two mounted knights crashed through the bushes at the edge of the field and pursued the fleeing Zemochs across a broad stretch of ploughed ground.

‘Why not just kill them?' Ulath shouted to Sparhawk.

‘It's probably not really necessary,' Sparhawk shouted back. ‘There are only four of them, and they don't pose much of a threat.'

‘You're getting soft, Sparhawk.'

‘Not really.'

They pursued the Zemochs for perhaps twenty minutes, then reined in.

‘They run very well, don't they?' Ulath chuckled. ‘Why
don't we go on back now? I'm getting tired of looking at this place.'

They rejoined the others, and they all set out, going north along the lake. They saw peasants in the fields, but no signs of any other Zemochs. They rode at a walk with Ulath and Kurik in the lead.

‘Any guesses about what those people were up to?' Kalten asked Sparhawk. The blond knight was driving the wagon, the reins held negligently in one hand and with the other pressed against his injured ribs.

‘I'd imagine that Otha's having his men keep an eye on anybody poking around the battlefield,' Sparhawk replied. ‘If somebody happens to stumble across Bhelliom, he'd definitely want to know about it.'

‘There may be more, then. It might not hurt to keep our eyes open.'

The sun grew warmer as the day progressed, and Sparhawk began almost to wish for a return of the clouds and rain of the past week or more. Grimly, he rode on, sweltering in his black-enamelled armour.

They camped that night in a grove of stately oaks not far from the Pelosian border and rose early the following morning. The guards posted at the boundary stood aside for them respectfully, and by mid-afternoon they crested a hill and looked down on the Pelosian city of Paler.

‘We made better time than I thought we would,' Kurik noted as they rode down the long slope towards the city. ‘Are you sure that map of yours is accurate, Sparhawk?'

‘No map is entirely accurate. About the best you can hope for is an approximation.'

‘Knew a map-maker in Thalesia once,' Ulath said. ‘He set out to map the country between Emsat and Husdal. At first he paced everything off very carefully, but after a day or so he bought himself a good horse and started guessing. His map doesn't even come close, but
everybody uses it because nobody wants to take the trouble of drawing a new one.'

The guards at the south gate of the city passed them after only the briefest of questions, and Sparhawk obtained the name and location of a respectable inn from one of them. ‘Talen,' he said, ‘do you think you'll be able to find your way to that inn by yourself?'

‘Of course. I can find any place in any town.'

‘Good. Stay here then, and keep your eyes on that road coming up from the south. Let's see if those Zemochs are still curious about us.'