"I'm afraid I have no real choice in the matter, Sir Sparhawk. With this anticipated siege hanging over my head, I have to get my brother out of the castle, no matter what the risk."

"As long as you understand, My Lord," Sparhawk sighed. "Our mission is of the gravest urgency, but this matter overshadows even that."

"Sparhawk!" Sephrenia gasped.

"We have no choice, little mother," he told her. "We absolutely must get His Grace safely out of Lamorkand and to Chyrellos. The Baron was right. If anything happens to his brother, the Church Knights will ride out of Chyrellos to retaliate. Nothing could prevent it. We'll have to take His Grace to the Holy City and then try to make up for lost time."

"What precisely is the object of your search, Sir Sparhawk?" the Patriarch of Kadach asked.

"As Sir Ulath explained, we are forced to resort to magic to restore the Queen of Elenia to health, and there's only one thing in the world with that much power. We're on our way to the great battlefield at Lake Randera to seek out the jewel which once surmounted the royal crown of Thalesia."

"Bhelliom?" Ortzel was shocked. "Surely you would not bring that accursed thing to light again?"

"We have no choice, Your Grace. Only Bhelliom can restore my queen."

"But Bhelliom is tainted. All the wickedness of the Troll-Gods infects it."

"The Troll-Gods aren't all that bad, Your Grace," Ulath said. "They're capricious, I'll grant you, but they're not truly evil."

"The Elene God forbids consorting with them."

"The Elene God is wise, Your Grace," Sephrenia told him. "He has also forbidden contact with the Gods of Styricum. He made an exception to his prohibition, however, when the time came to form the militant orders. The Younger Gods of Styricum agreed to assist Him in His design. One wonders if He might not also be able to enlist the aid of the Troll-Gods. He is, I understand, most persuasive."

"Blasphemy." Ortzel gasped.

"No, Your Grace, not really. I am Styric and therefore not subject to Elene theology."

"Hadn't we better get going?" Ulath suggested. "It's a long ride to Chyrellos, and we need to get His Grace out of this castle before the fighting starts."

"Well put, my laconic friend," Tynian approved.

"I shall make ready at once," Ortzel said, going to the door. "We will be able to depart within the hour." And he went out.

"How long do you think it's likely to be before the counts forces reach here, My Lord?" Tynian asked the baron.

"no more than a day, Sir Tynian. I have friends who are impeding his march northward from his keep, but he has a sizeable army, and I'm certain he will soon break his way through."

"Talen," Sparhawk said sharply, "put it back."

The boy made a wry face and laid a small dagger with a jewelled hilt back on the table from which he had taken it.

"I didn't think you were watching," he said.

"Don't ever make that mistake," Sparhawk said "I always watch you."

The baron looked puzzled.

"The boy has not yet learned to grasp some of the finer points of property ownership, My Lord," Kalten said lightly. "We've been trying to teach him, but he's a slow learner."

Talen sighed and took up his sketch pad and pencil. Then he sat at a table on the far side of the room and began to draw. He was, Sparhawk remembered, very talented.

"I am most grateful to you all, gentlemen," the baron was saying. "The safety of my brother has been my only concern. Now I shall be able to concentrate on the business at hand." He looked at Sparhawk. "Do you think you might possibly encounter this Martel person during the course of your quest?"

"I most certainly hope so," Sparhawk said fervently.

"And is it your intention to kill him?"

"That's been Sparhawk's intention for the last dozen years or so," Kalten said. "Martel sleeps very lightly when Sparhawk's in the same kingdom with him."

"May God aid your arm then, Sir Sparhawk," the baron said. "My son will rest more peacefully once his betrayer joins him in the House of the Dead."

The door burst open, and Sir Enmann hurried into the room. "My Lord!" he said to Alstrom in urgent tones, "come quickly."

Alstrom came to his feet. "What is it, Sir Enmann!"

"Count Gerich has deceived us. He has a fleet of ships on the river, and even now his forces are landing on both sides of this promontory."

"Sound the alarm!" the baron commanded, "and raise the drawbridge!"

"At once, My Lord." Enmann hurried from the room.

Alstrom sighed bleakly. "I'm afraid it's too late, Sir Sparhawk," he said. "Both your quest and the task I set you are doomed now. We are under siege, and we will all be trapped within these walls for a number of years, I fear."

Chapter 5

The booming crash of boulders slamming against the walls of Alstrom's castle came with monotonous regularity as the siege engines of Count Gerich moved into place and began pounding the fortress.

Sparhawk and the others had remained in the cheerless, weapon-cluttered room at Alstrom's request, and they sat awaiting his return.

"I've never been under siege before," Talen said, looking up from his drawings. "How long do they usually last?"

"If we can't come up with a way to get out of here, you'll be shaving by the time it's over," Kurik told him.

"Do something, Sparhawk," the boy said urgently.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Talen looked at him helplessly.

Baron Alstrom came back into the room. His face was bleak. "I'm afraid we're completely encircled," he said.

"A truce, perhaps?" Bevier suggested. "It's customary in Arcium to grant safe passage to women and Churchmen before pressing a siege."

"Unfortunately, Sir Bevier," Alstrom replied, "This is not Arcium. This is Lamorkand, and there's no such thing as a truce here."

"Any ideas?" Sparhawk asked Sephrenia.

"A few, perhaps," she said. "Let me have a try at your excellent Elene logic. First, the use of main force to break out of the castle is quite out of the question, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely."

"And, as you pointed out, a truce would probably not be honoured?"

"I certainly wouldn't want to gamble His Grace's life or yours on a truce."

"Then there's the possibility of stealth. I don't think that would work either, do you?"

TOO risky," Kalten agreed. "The castle is surrounded, and the soldiers will be on the alert for people trying to sneak out."

"Subterfuge of some kind?" she asked.

"Not under these circumstances," Ulath said. "The men surrounding the castle are armed with crossbows. We'd never get close enough to tell them stories."

"That leaves only the arts of Styricum, doesn't it?"

"Ortzel's face stiffened. "I will not be a party to the use of heathen sorcery," he declared.

"I was afraid he might look at it that way," Kalten murmured to Sparhawk.

"I'll try to reason with him in the morning," Sparhawk replied under his breath. He looked at Baron Alstrom.

"It's late, My Lord," he said, "and we're all tired. Some sleep might clear our heads and hint at other solutions."

"Well said, Sir Sparhawk," Alstrom agreed. "My servants will convey you and your companions to safe quarters, and we shall consider this matter further on the morrow."

They were led through the bleak halls of Alstrom's castle to a wing that, while comfortable, showed little sign of use. Supper was brought to them in their rooms, and Sparhawk and Kalten removed their armour. After they had eaten, they sat talking quietly in the chamber they shared.

"I could have told you that Ortzel would feel the way he does about magic. The Churchmen here in Lamorkand feel almost as strongly about it as Rendors."

"If it'd been Dolmant, we might have talked our way around him," Sparhawk agreed glumly.

"Dolmant's more cosmopolitan," Kalten said. "He grew up next door to the Pandion Mother-house, and he knows a great deal more about the secrets than he lets on." There was a light rap on the door. Sparhawk rose and answered it. It was Talen. "Sephrenia wants to see you," he told the big knight. "All right. Go to bed, Kalten. You're still looking a bit the worse for wear. Lead the way, Talen."

The boy took Sparhawk to the end of the corridor and tapped on the door.

"Come in, Talen," Sephrenia replied.

"How did you know it was me?" Talen asked curiously as he opened the door.

"There are ways," she said mysteriously. The small Styric woman was gently brushing Flute's long black hair. The child had a dreamy look on her small face, and she was humming to herself contentedly. Sparhawk was startled. It was the first vocal sound he had ever heard her utter. "If she can hum, why is it she can't talk?" he asked.

"Whatever gave you the idea she can't talk?" Sephrenia continued her brushing.

"She never has."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"What did you want to see me about?"

"It's going to take something rather spectacular to get us out of here," she replied, "and I may need your help and that of the others to manage it."

"All you have to do is ask. Have you got any ideas?"

"A few. Our first problem is Ortzel, though. If he bows his neck on this, we'll never get him out of the castle."

"Suppose I just hit him on the head before we leave and tie him across his saddle until we're safely away?"

"Sparhawk," she chided him.

"It was a thought," he shrugged. "What about Flute here?"

"What about her?"

"She made those soldiers on the docks at Vardenais "and the spies outside the chapterhouse ignore us.

"Couldn't she do that here too?"

"Do you realize how large that army outside the gate is, Sparhawk? She's just a little girl, after all."

"Oh. I didn't know that would make a difference."

"Of course it does."

"Couldn't you put Ortzel to sleep?" Talen asked her "you know, sort of wiggle your fingers at him until he drops off?"

"It's possible, I suppose."

"Then he won't know you used magic to get us out of here until he wakes up."

"Interesting notion, " she conceded. "How did you come up with it?"

"I'm a thief, Sephrenia," he grinned impudently. "I wouldn't be very good at it if I couldn't think faster than the other fellow."

"However we manage Ortzel is beside the point," Sparhawk said. "Our main concern is getting Alstrom's co-operation. He might be a little reluctant to risk his brothers life on something he doesn't understand. I'll talk with him in the morning."

"Be very persuasive, Sparhawk," Sephrenia said.

"I'll try. Come along, Talen. Let the ladies get some sleep. Kalten and I have a spare bed in our room. You can sleep there. Sephrenia, don't be afraid to call on me and the others if you need help with any spells."

"I'm never afraid, Sparhawk - not when I have you to protect me."

"Stop that," he told her. Then he smiled. "Sleep well Sephrenia."

"You too, dear one."

"Good night, Flute," he added.

She blew him a little trill on her pipes.

The following morning, Sparhawk rose early and went back into the main part of the castle. As chance had it, he encountered Sir Enmann in the long, torch lit corridor.

"How do things stand?" he asked the Lamork knight.

Enmann's face was grey with fatigue. He had obviously been up all night. "We've had some successes, Sir Sparhawk," he replied. "We repelled a fairly serious assault on the castle's main gate about midnight, and we're moving our own engines into place. We should be able to begin destroying Gerich's siege machines - and his ships - before noon."

"Will he pull back at that point?"

Enmann shook his head. "More likely, he'll begin digging earthwork fortifications. It's probable that the siege will be protracted."

Sparhawk nodded. "I thought that might be the case," he agreed. "Have you any idea where I might find Baron Alstrom? I need to talk with him - out of the hearing of his brother."

"My Lord Alstrom is atop the battlements at the front of the castle, Sir Sparhawk. He wants Gerich to be able to see him. That may goad the count into some rash move. He's alone there. His brother is customarily in chapel at this hour."

"Good. I'll go talk with the baron then."

It was windy atop the battlements. Sparhawk had drawn his cloak about his armour to conceal it, and the wind whipped it around his legs.

"Ah, good morning, Sir Sparhawk," Baron Alstrom said. His voice was weary. He wore a full suit of armour, and the visor of his helmet had that peculiar pointed construction common in Lamorkand.

"Good morning, My" Lord," Sparhawk replied, staying back from the battlements. "Is there somewhere back out of sight where we can talk? I'm not sure it's a good idea to let Gerich know that there are Church Knights inside your walls just yet, and I'm sure he has a number of sharp-eyed men watching You."

"the tower there above the gate," Alstrom suggested.

"Come along, Sir Sparhawk." And he led the way along the parapet.

The room inside the tower was grimly functional. A dozen crossbowmen stood at the narrow embrasures along its front, unloosing their bolts at the troops below.

"You men," Alstrom commanded, "I have need of this room. Go shoot from the battlements for a while."

The soldiers filed out, their metal-shod feet clinking on the stone floor.

"We have a problem, My Lord," Sparhawk said when the two of them were alone.

"I noticed that," Alstrom said drily, glancing out of one of the embrasures at the troops massed before his walls.

Sparhawk grinned at this rare flash of humour in a usually dour race. "That particular problem is yours, My Lord," he said. "Our mutual one is what we're going to do about your brother. Sephrenia got directly to the point last night. No purely natural effort is going to effect his escape from this siege. We have no choice. We have to use magic - and His Grace appears to be unalterably against it."