Chancellor of the Exchequer Gashon was a bloodless, corpse-like man with sunken cheeks and no more than a few wispy strands of hair protruding from his lumpy scalp. ‘Look at it more closely, Pondia Subat,’ he said in his hollow, rusty-sounding voice. ‘It’s only a theory, but it does explain many things that are otherwise incomprehensible.’

‘They wouldn’t have dared,’ Subat scoffed.

‘Try to lift your mind out of the fourteenth century, Subat,’ Gashon snapped. ‘You’re the Prime Minister, not the keeper of antiquities. The world is changing all around you. You can’t just sit still with your eyes firmly fixed on the past and hope to survive.’

‘I don’t like you very much, Gashon.’

‘I’m not terribly fond of you either, Subat. Let me go through it for you again. Try to stay awake this time.’

‘How dare you?’

‘I dare because I’d sort of like to keep my head where it is. First off: the Elenes of Eosia are absolute barbarians. Can we agree on that at least?’

‘All right.’

‘They haven’t caused us much trouble in the past because they were too busy fighting among themselves about religion, and because they had Otha of Zemoch to worry about. Would it surprise you too much if I told you that Otha’s dead and that the Rendorish insurgency’s been almost completely crushed?’

‘I have my own sources of information, Gashon.’

‘Have you ever considered listening to what they tell you? Now then, there was open warfare in the streets of Chyrellos preceding the elevation of this Dolmant to the Archprelacy. I’d say that’s a fair indication of the fact that he’s not universally loved. The best way I know of for a shaky ruler to consolidate his position is to contrive a foreign adventure, and the only real foreign ground for the Elenes of the Eosian Continent is Daresia – the Tamul Empire. That’s us, in case you hadn’t noticed, Pondia Subat.’

‘I know that, Gashon.’

‘I just wanted to be sure, that’s all. Are you with me so far?’

‘Get to the point, Gashon. I don’t have all day.’

‘Did you have an appointment with the headsman? All right, then. The Elenes are religious fanatics who feel that they’re called of the Lord to convert everybody in the world to their absurd faith. For all I know, they also want to convert snakes, spiders and fish. Dolmant’s their religious leader, and they’d probably try to subdue glaciers and tides if he told them to. So, we’ve got a religious leader who has an uncertain grasp on power in his own Church, and he has hordes of fanatic followers at his disposal. He can either use those followers to crush his opponents at home, or he can hurl them against a foreign power on some trumped-up excuse that will inflame the commons and stifle objections to his rule. Isn’t it a coincidence that at precisely that time we have this “state visit” by a silly female – a female Foreign Minister Oscagne assures us is the Queen of Elenia. I hope the fact that we only have Oscagne’s word for that hasn’t escaped you. This so-called queen is obviously more accustomed to doing business in bed than she is on a throne. She clearly wrestled not only that silly ass Alberen of Astel into submission but probably Androl of the Atans as well. We can only speculate about her adventures among the Peloi and the Styrics at Sarsos. Then, once she reached Matherion, she lured Emperor Sarabian to her bedchamber before the first day was out – you did know that Sarabian and Oscagne crept across the compound to that imitation Elene castle on the first night she was here, didn’t you?’

Subat started to object.

‘Yes, I know,’ Gashon cut him off, ‘that brings us to Oscagne. I’d say that the evidence strongly suggests that Oscagne has gone over to the Elenes – either for personal gain or because he’s fallen under the spell of that blonde Elene strumpet. She had plenty of time to work on him while he was in Chyrellos, you know.’

‘It’s all speculation, Gashon,’ Subat said, although his voice lacked conviction.

‘Of course it is, Subat,’ Gashon replied with heavy sarcasm. ‘What would be the fastest way to get to Matherion from Chyrellos?’

‘By ship, naturally.’

‘Then why did the strumpet of Cimmura choose to come overland? Was it to look at scenery, or to grapple her way across the continent? The girl’s got stamina, I’ll give her that.’

‘What about this recent coup-attempt, Gashon? The government would have fallen if the Elenes hadn’t been here.’

‘Ah yes, the famous coup. Isn’t it astounding that a group of Elenes, who didn’t even speak the Tamul language when they arrived, were able to unearth this dire plot in about six weeks? – when the agents of the Ministry of the Interior, who’ve only been in Matherion for all of their lives, hadn’t come across a single clue about it? The Elenes crushed an imaginary coup, Subat, and now they’ve used it as an excuse to imprison the Emperor in that cursed fortress of theirs – not only the Emperor, but Interior Minister Kolata as well, and Kolata’s the one man in government who has the resources to free our ruler. I’ve talked with Teovin, Director of the Secret Police, and he assures me that no one from the ministry has been permitted to speak with Kolata privately since his incarceration. Our colleague is obviously a prisoner, and the orders he’s issuing to the Interior Ministry are just as obviously coming from the Elenes. Then, if that weren’t bad enough, they’ve sent the so-called churchman, Emban, back to Chyrellos to lead the Church Knights back here to “deal with the crisis”. We have all the resources of Interior and whole armies of Atans at our disposal, Subat. Why do we need the Church Knights? What possible reason is there to bring the most ruthless force in the entire world to Tamuli? Would the word “invasion” startle you? That’s all that the famous coup really was, you realize – an excuse for the Elene Church to invade Tamuli, and quite obviously it’s been with the Emperor’s full cooperation.’

‘Why would the Emperor conspire with the Elenes to topple his own government?’

‘I can think of any number of reasons. Maybe this so-called queen threatened to deny him her favors. Most probably, though, she’s been spinning fairy-tales for him, telling him about the joys of absolute power. That’s a common fiction in Eosia. Elene rulers like to pretend that they’re the ones who make all the decisions in their kingdoms rather than permitting the government to do it for them. We both know how ridiculous that idea is. A king – or in our case, the Emperor – only has one function. He’s a symbol of government, nothing more. He serves as a focus for the love and loyalty of the people. The imperial government’s been engaged in a selective-breeding program for the past thousand years. The Emperor’s Tamul wife – the one who produces the heir to the throne – is always selected for her stupidity. We don’t need intelligent emperors, only docile ones. Somehow Sarabian slipped past us. If you’d ever really taken the trouble to pay attention to him, you’d have discovered that he’s frighteningly intelligent. Kolata blundered there. Sarabian should have been killed long before he ascended the throne. Our revered Emperor’s beginning to hunger for real power, I’m afraid. Normally, we could deal with that, but we can’t get at him to kill him as long as he’s inside that blasted fortress.’

‘You weave a convincing story, Gashon,’ the Prime Minister conceded with a troubled frown. ‘I knew it was a blunder to invite that Sparhawk savage to come to Matherion.’

‘We all did, Subat, and you’ll recall who it was who overrode all our objections.’

‘Oscagne,’ Subat spat.

‘Precisely. Is it beginning to fit together for you now?’

‘Did you devise all of this by yourself, Gashon? It’s a little elaborate for a man who spends all his time counting pennies.’

‘Actually, it was Teovin, the Director of the Secret Police, who brought it to my attention. He provided me with a great deal of very concrete evidence. I’ve summarized it for you here. Interior has spies everywhere, you know. Nothing happens in the Empire that doesn’t generate a report for those famous files of theirs. Now, Pondia Subat, what does our esteemed Prime Minister propose to do about the fact that our Emperor’s being held prisoner – willingly or unwillingly – not a hundred paces from where we sit? You’re the titular head of government, Subat. You’re the one who has to make these decisions. Oh, and while you’re at it, you might want to give some thought to how we’re going to prevent the Church Knights from sweeping across the continent, marching into Matherion and forcing everyone to bow down to their ridiculous God – and butchering the entire government in the process.’

‘They’re trying to stall, your Majesties,’ Stragen reported. ‘When supper-time comes, they escort us to the door, push us outside, and lock the door behind us. The building stays locked for the rest of the night – although there are always plenty of lights moving around in there after dark. When we go back the next morning, everything’s been rearranged. The files migrate from room to room like ducks in the autumn. I wouldn’t actually swear to it, but I think they move walls as well. We found a room just this morning that I don’t really think was there last night.’

‘I’ll send in Engessa’s Atans,’ Sarabian said darkly. ‘We’ll chase everybody out and then tear the building apart brick by brick.’

‘No,’ Ehlana said, shaking her head. ‘If we make an overt move against the Ministry of the Interior, every policeman in the Empire will scurry down a rabbit-hole.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Let’s start to do inconvenient things to the other ministries as well. Don’t make it obvious that we’re concentrating all of our attention on the Ministry of the Interior.’

‘How can you possibly make things any worse than they already are, your Majesty?’ Oscagne asked in a broken voice. ‘You’ve disrupted centuries of work as it is.’

‘Can anyone think of anything?’ Sarabian asked, looking around.

‘May I speak, your Majesty?’ Alean asked in a small, timid-sounding voice.

‘Of course, dear,’ Ehlana smiled.

‘I hope you’ll all forgive my presumption,’ Alean apologized. ‘I can’t even read, so I don’t really know what files are, but aren’t we sort of letting on that we’re rearranging them?’

‘That’s what we’re telling everybody,’ Mirtai replied.

‘As I said, I can’t read, but I do know a bit about rearranging cupboards and such things. This is a little like that, isn’t it?’

‘Close enough,’ Stragen replied.

‘Well, then, when you’re rearranging a cupboard, you take everything out and spread it on the floor. Then you put all the things you want in the top drawer in one pile, the things you want in the second drawer in another, and so on. Couldn’t we do that with these files?’

‘It’s a nice i-dee, little dorlin’,’ Caalador drawled, ‘but they ain’t e-nuff floors in the hull buildin’ fer spreadin’ out all them there files.’

‘There are lots of lawns around the outside, though, aren’t there?’ Alean kept her eyes downcast as she spoke. ‘Couldn’t we just take all the files from every government building outside and spread them around on the lawns. We could tell the people who work in the buildings that we want to sort through them and put them in the proper order. They couldn’t really object, and you can’t lock the door to a lawn at night, or move things around when there are seven-foot-tall Atans standing guard over them. I know I’m just a silly servant girl, but that’s the way I’d do it.’

Oscagne was staring at her in absolute horror.

Chapter 4

The soil on the western side of the Isle of Tega was thin and rocky, and since there was plenty of fertile ground farther inland, the citizens of the Republic had made no effort to cultivate here. Tough, scrubby bushes rustled stiffly in the onshore breeze as Sparhawk and his friends rode along a rocky trail leading to the coast.

‘The breeze helps,’ Talen observed gratefully. ‘At least it blows away that stink.’

‘You complain too much,’ Flute told him. The little girl rode with Sephrenia as she had since they had first encountered her. She nestled in her older sister’s arms with her dark eyes brooding. She straightened suddenly as the sound of surf pounding on the western shore of the Isle reached them. ‘This is far enough for right now, gentlemen,’ she told them. ‘Let’s have some supper and wait for it to get dark.’

‘Is that a good idea?’ Bevier asked her. ‘The ground’s been getting rougher the farther west we come, and the sound of that surf seems to have rocks mixed up in it. This might not be a good place to be blundering around in the dark.’

‘I can lead you safely to the beach, Bevier,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want you gentlemen to get too good a look at our ship. There are certain ideas involved in her construction that you don’t need to know. That’s one of the promises I had to make during those negotiations I was telling you about.’ She pointed to the lee-side of a rocky hillock. ‘Let’s go over there out of this wind and build a fire. I have some instructions for you.’

They rode away from the ill-defined trail and dismounted in the shelter of the hill. ‘Whose turn is it to do the cooking?’ Berit asked Sir Ulath.

‘Yours,’ Ulath told him with no hint of a smile.

‘You knew he was going to do that, Berit,’ Talen said. ‘What you just did was almost the same thing as volunteering.’

Berit shrugged. ‘My turn will come up eventually anyway,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d get it out of the way for a while.’

‘All right, gentlemen,’ Vanion said, ‘let’s look around and see what we can find in the way of firewood.’

Sparhawk concealed a smile. Vanion could maintain that he was no longer the Preceptor as much as he wished, but the habit of command was deeply ingrained in him.

They built a fire, and Berit stirred up an acceptable stew. After supper, they sat by the fire watching as evening slowly settled in.

‘Now then,’ Flute said to them, ‘we’re going to ride down to a cove. I want you all to stay close behind me, because it’s going to be very foggy.’

‘It’s a perfectly clear evening, Flute,’ Kalten objected.