"We are Church Knights, Your Majesty," Bevier replied piously. "We take a vow of poverty, so we're not really in a position to gamble on sporting events."

King Wargun roared with laughter.

The city gate opened somewhat hesitantly.

"Somehow I knew they'd see it my way," Wargun said, leading the way into the city. "Where will I find your chief magistrate?" he asked one of the trembling gate guards.

"I-I believe he's in the council-house, Your Majesty," the guard stammered. "Probably hiding in the cellar."

"Be a good fellow and go and fetch him for me."

"At once, Your Majesty." The guard threw down his pike and ran off down the street.

"I like Lamorks," WarGun said expansively. "They're always so eager to be obliging."

The chief magistrate was a pudgy man. His face was pale, and he was sweating profusely as the gate guard bodily dragged him into Wargun's presence.

"I will require suitable quarters for King Soros, myself and our entourage, Your Excellency," WarGun informed him. "This won't inconvenience your citizens all that much, because they'll be up all night equipping themselves for an extended military campaign anyway."

"As Your Majesty commands," the magistrate replied in a squeaky voice.

"You see what I mean about Lamorks?" WarGun said.

"Soros will have smooth going down here. He'll sweep the whole kingdom clean in a week - if he doesn't stop to pray too often. Why don't we go someplace and get something to drink while his excellency here empties a dozen or so houses for us?"

After a consultation with King Soros and Patriarch Bergsten the following morning, WarGun took a troop of Thalesian cavalry and led them towards the west with Sparhawk riding at his side. It was a fine morning. The sunlight sparkled on the lake, and there was a light breeze blowing in from the west.

"I suppose you're still not going to tell me what you were doing in Pelosia?" Wargun said to Sparhawk. The Thalesian King seemed relatively sober this morning, so Sparhawk decided to risk his mood.

"You know about Queen Ehlana's illness, of course," he began.

"The whole world knows about it. That's why her bastard cousin is trying to seize power."

"There's a bit more to it than that, Your Majesty. We've finally isolated the cause of the illness. Primate Annias needed access to her treasury, so he had her poisoned."

"He did what?"

Sparhawk nodded. "Annias is not overburdened with scruples, and he'll do anything to reach the Archprelacy."

"The man's a scoundrel," Wargun growled.

"At any rate, we've discovered a possible cure for Ehlana. It involves the use of magic, and we need a certain talisman to make it work. We found out that the talisman is in Lake Venne." his eyes narrowed. "What is this talisman?" WarGun asked, "It's a kind of ornament," Sparhawk replied evasively.

"Certain people used to wear them."

"Do you really put that much store by all that magic nonsense?"

"I've seen it work a few times, Your Majesty. Anyhow, that's why we objected so much when you insisted that we join you. We weren't trying to be disrespectful.

Ehlana's life is being sustained by a spell, but it's only good for just so long. If she dies, Lycheas will take the throne."

"Not if I can help it, he won't. I don't want any throne in Eosia occupied by a man who doesn't know his own father."

"The idea doesn't appeal to me either, but I think Lycheas does in fact know who his father is."

"Oh? Who is it? Do you know?"

"The Primate Annias."

Wargun's eyes went wide. "Are you sure of that?"

Sparhawk nodded. "I have it on the very best authority. The ghost of King Aldreas told me. His sister was somewhat profligate."

WarGun made the sign to ward off evil, a peasant gesture that looked peculiar coming from a reigning monarch. "A ghost, you say? The word of a ghost won't stand up in any court, Sparhawk."

"I wasn't planning to take it to court, Your Majesty," Sparhawk said grimly, resting his hand on his sword hilt, "as soon as I have the leisure, the principals will be standing before a higher judgement."

"Good man," WarGun approved. "I wouldn't have thought that a churchman would have succumbed to Arissa, though."

"Arissa can be very persuasive sometimes. Anyway, this campaign of yours is directed at another one of Annias's plots. I strongly suspect that the Rendorish invasion is being led by a man named Martel. Martel works for Annias, and he's been trying to stir up enough trouble to draw the Church Knights away from Chyrellos during the election. Our Preceptors could probably keep Annias off the Archprelate's throne, so he had to get them out of his way."

"The man's a real snake, isn't he?"

"That's a pretty fair description."

"You've given me a lot to think about this morning, Sparhawk. I'll mull it over, and we'll talk some more about it later."

A sudden light sprang into Sparhawk's eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up too much, though. I still think I'm going to need you when I get to Arcium. Besides, the militant orders have already marched south. You're Vanion's right arm, and I think he'd miss you if you stayed away."

Time and distance seemed to drag on interminably as they rode west. They crossed into Pelosia again and rode across the unending plains in bright summer sunlight.

One night when they were still some distance from the border of Deira, Kalten was in a bad humour. "I thought you said you were going to speed this trip up," he said accusingly to Flute.

"I have," she replied.

"Really?" he said with heavy sarcasm. "We've been on the road for a week already, and we haven't even reached "Deira yet."

"Actually, Kalten, we've only been on the road for two days. I have to make it seem longer so that WarGun doesn't get suspicious."

He looked at her disbelievingly.

"I've got another question for you, Flute," Tynian said.

"Back at the lake, you were very eager to catch Ghwerig and take Bhelliom away from him. Then you suddenly changed your mind and said that we have to go to Acie. What happened?"

"I received word from my family," she told him. "They told me about this task I have to complete at Acie before we can go after Bhelliom." She made a wry face. "I probably should have thought of it myself."

"Let's get back to this other thing," Kalten said impatiently. "How did you squeeze time together the way you said you have?"

"There are ways," she said evasively.

"I wouldn't pursue it, Kalten," Sephrenia advised. "You wouldn't understand what she's been doing, so why worry about it? Besides, if you keep asking her questions, she might decide to answer you, and the answers would probably upset you very much."

Chapter 22

It seemed that it took them two more weeks to reach the foothills above Acie, the bleak, ugly capital of Deira, which perched on an eroded bluff overlooking the original harbour and the long, narrow Gulf of Acie. Flute advised them that evening, however, that no more than five days had passed since they had left the city of Agnak in Lamorkand. Most of them chose to take her at her word, but Sir Bevier, who was of a scholarly and resolutely Elene frame of mind, questioned her about how this seeming miracle had come to pass. Her explanation was patient, although dreadfully obscure. Bevier finally excused himself and went outside the tent for a time to look at the stars and to establish his relations with things he had always considered immutable and eternal.

"Did you understand anything she said at all?" Tynian asked him when he returned, pale and sweating to the tent.

"A little," Bevier replied, sitting down again, "just around the edges." He looked at Flute with frightened eyes. "I think perhaps that Patriarch Ortzel was right. We should have no dealings with these Styric people. Nothing is sacred to them."

Flute crossed the tent on her grass-stained little feet and laid a consoling hand on his cheek. "Dear Bevier," she said sweetly, "so serious and so devout. We must get to Thalesia quickly - just as soon as I can finish what I have to do in Acie. We simply did not have the time to plod half-way across the continent at the usual pace. That's why I did it the other way."

"I understand the reasons," he said, "but "I will never hurt you, you know; and I won't let anybody else hurt you either, but you must try not to be so rigid. It makes it so very hard to explain things to you.

Does that help at all?"

"Not appreciably."

She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "Now then," she said brightly, "everything's all right again, isn't it?"

He gave up. "Do as you will, Flute," he said to her with a gentle, almost shy smile. "I can't refute your arguments and your kisses at the same time."

"He's such a nice boy," she said delightedly to the others.

"We rather feel the same way about him ourselves," Ulath said blandly, "and we have some plans for him."

"You, however," she said critically to the Genidian Knight, "are most definitely not a nice boy."

"I know," he admitted, unruffled, "and you have no idea how much that disappointed my mother - and a number of other ladies from time to time as well."

She gave him a dark look and stalked away, muttering to herself in Styric. Sparhawk recognized some of the words, and he wondered if she really knew what they meant.

As had become his custom, WarGun asked Sparhawk to ride beside him the following morning as they trekked down the long, rocky slope from the foothills of the Deiran mountains towards the coast. "I should really get out more often," the king of Thalesia confided. "After almost three weeks coming from Agnak, I should be nearly ready to fall out of my saddle, but I feel as if we've been on the road for only a few days."

"Perhaps it was the mountains," Sparhawk suggested carefully. "Mountain air is always invigorating."

"Maybe that's it," Wargun agreed.

"Have you given any more thought to the discussion we had a while back, Your Majesty?" Sparhawk asked cautiously.

"I've had a lot on my mind, Sparhawk. I appreciate your personal concern about your queen, but from a political standpoint the important thing now is to crush this Rendorish invasion. Then the Preceptors of the militant orders will be able to return to Chyrellos and block the Primate of Cimmura. If Annias fails to gain the Archprelacy, Lycheas the bastard won't have any chance of ascending the throne of Elenia. I realize that it's a hard choice, but politics is a hard game."

A little later, when Wargun was conferring with his troop commander, Sparhawk relayed the gist of their conversation to his companions.

"He's not any more reasonable when he's sober, is he?" Kalten said.

"From his own standpoint, he's right, though," Tynian observed. "The politics of the situation dictate that we do everything we can to get all the Preceptors back to Chyrellos before Cluvonus dies. I doubt that he cares much one way or the other about Ehlana. There's one other possibility, though. We're in Deira now, and Obler's the king here. He's a very wise old man. If we explain the situation to him, he might overrule Wargun."

"I don't think I'd care to hang Ehlana's life on that slim a possibility," Sparhawk said. He turned to rejoin Wargun.

Despite Flute's assurances concerning the actual elapsed time their journey had consumed, Sparhawk was still impatient. The apparent slow pace nagged at him. While he could intellectually accept what she said, he could not come to grips with it emotionally. Twenty days is twenty days to one's senses, and Sparhawk's senses were strung wire-taut just now. He began to have dark thoughts. Things had been going wrong so consistently that seeming premonitions tugged at his mind. He began to think about the forthcoming encounter with Ghwerig with a great deal less certainty about the outcome.

At around noon they reached Acie, the capital city of the kingdom of Deira. The Deiran army was encamped around the city, and their camp was bustling with activity as they prepared for the march south.

Wargun had been drinking again, but he looked around with satisfaction. "Good," he said. "They're almost ready. Come along, Sparhawk, and bring your friends. Let's go talk to Obler."

As they rode through the narrow, cobbled streets of Acie, Talen pulled his horse in beside Sparhawk's. "I'm going to drop behind a ways," he said very quietly. "I want to look around. Getting away in the open countryside's very hard. This is a town, though, and there are always lots of places to hide in towns. King Wargun's not going to miss me. He hardly knows I'm along. If I can find us a good hiding Place, maybe we can slip away to it and stay there until the army moves out. Then we can make a run for Thalesia."

"Just be very careful."

"Naturally."

A few streets farther on, Sephrenia reined in sharply and pulled her white palfrey off to the side of the street. She and Flute quickly dismounted and went to the entrance of a narrow alley to greet an aged Styric with a long, snowy beard who wore an intensely white robe. Some sort of ritual ceremony seemed to take place between the three of them, but Sparhawk could not quite make out the details.

Sephrenia and Flute spoke earnestly to the old man at some length, and then he bowed in acknowledgement and went back on up the alley.

"What was that all about?" Wargun asked suspiciously when Sephrenia and the little girl rejoined them.

"He's an old friend, Your Majesty," Sephrenia replied, "and the most revered and wise man in all of western Styricum."

"A king, you mean?"

"That's a word that has no meaning in Styricum, Your Majesty," she told him.

"How can you have a government if you don't have a king?"

"There are other ways, Your Majesty, and besides, Styrics have outgrown the need for government."

"That's absurd."

"Many things seem that way - at first. It may come to you Elenes in time."

"That's a very infuriating woman sometimes, Sparhawk," Wargun growled, pushing his horse back to the front of the column.

"Sparhawk," Flute said very lightly.

"Yes?"