‘You may not have been advised, since the Tamuls are trying to keep it on a low key, but very similar things are afoot in many other Daresian kingdoms, and we’re beginning to encounter the same sort of problem in Eosia.’
‘I think the Tamuls sometimes keep secrets just for the fun of it,’ Monsel grunted.
‘I have a friend who says the same thing about our Eosian Church,’ Sparhawk said cautiously. They had not yet fully explored the Archimandrite’s political opinions. A wrong word or two here would not only preclude any possibility of obtaining his help, but might even compromise their mission.
‘Knowledge is power,’ Emban said rather sententiously, ‘and only a fool shares power if he doesn’t have to. Let me be blunt, Monsel. What’s your opinion of the Tamuls?’
‘I don’t like them.’ Monsel’s response was to the point. ‘They’re heathens, they’re members of an alien race, and you can’t tell what they’re thinking.’
Sparhawk’s heart sank.
‘I have to admit, though, that when they absorbed Astel into their empire, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. Whether we like them or not is beside the point. Their passion for order and stability has averted war time and time again in my own lifetime. There have been other empires in ages past, and their time of ascendancy was a time of unmitigated horror and suffering. I think we’ll candidly have to admit that the Tamuls are history’s finest imperialists. They don’t interfere with local customs or religions. They don’t disrupt the social structure, and they function through the established governments. Their taxes, however much we complain about them, are really minimal. They build good roads and encourage trade. Aside from that, they generally leave us alone. About all they really insist upon is that we don’t go to war with each other. I can live with that – although some of my predecessors felt dreadfully abused because the Tamuls wouldn’t let them convert their neighbours by the sword.’
Sparhawk breathed a little easier.
‘But I’m straying from the point here,’ Monsel said. ‘You were suggesting a world-wide conspiracy of some kind, I think.’
‘Were we suggesting that, Sparhawk?’ Emban asked.
‘I suppose we were, your Grace.’
‘Do you have anything concrete upon which to base this theory, Sir Sparhawk?’ Monsel asked.
‘Logic is about all, your Grace.’
‘I’ll listen to logic – as long as she doesn’t contradict my beliefs.’
‘If a series of events happens in one place and it’s identical to a series of events taking place in another, we’re justified in considering the possibility of a common source, wouldn’t you say?’
‘On an interim basis, perhaps.’
‘It’s about all we have to work with at the moment, your Grace. The same sort of thing could happen at the same time in two different places and still be a coincidence, but when you get up to five or ten different occurrences, coincidence sort of goes out the window. This current upheaval involving Ayachin and the one they call Sabre here in Astel is almost exactly duplicated in the kingdom of Lamorkand in Eosia, and Ambassador Oscagne assures us that the same sort of thing’s erupting in other Daresian kingdoms as well. It’s always the same. First there are the rumours that some towering hero of antiquity has somehow returned. Then some firebrand emerges to keep things stirred up. Here in Astel, you’ve got the wild stories about Ayachin. In Lamorkand, they talk about Drychtnath. Here you have a man named Sabre, and in Lamorkand they’ve got one named Gerrich. I’m fairly sure we’ll find the same sort of thing in Edom, Daconia, Arjuna and Cynesga. Oscagne tells us that their national heroes are putting in an appearance as well.’ Sparhawk rather carefully avoided mentioning Krager. He was still not entirely certain where Monsel’s sympathies lay.
‘You build a good case, Sparhawk,’ Monsel conceded. ‘But couldn’t this master plot be directed at the Tamuls? They aren’t widely loved, you know.’
‘I think your Grace is overlooking Lamorkand.’ Emban said. ‘There aren’t any Tamuls there. I’m guessing, but I’d say that the master plot – if that’s what we want to call it – is directed at the Church in Eosia as opposed to the empire here.’
‘Organised anarchy perhaps?’
‘I believe that’s a contradiction in terms, your Grace,’ Sparhawk pointed out. ‘I’m not sure that we’re far enough along to deal with causes yet, though. Right now we’re trying to sort through effects. If we’re correct in assuming that this plot is all coming from the same person, then what we’re seeing is someone who’s got a basic plan with common elements which he modifies to fit each particular culture. What we really want to do is to identify this Sabre fellow.’
‘So that you can have him killed?’ Monsel’s tone was accusing.
‘No, your Grace, that wouldn’t be practical. If we kill him, he’ll be replaced by someone else – somebody we don’t know. I want to know who he is, and what he is and everything I can possibly find out about him. I want to know how he thinks, what drives him and what his personal motivations are. If I know all of that, I can neutralise him without killing him. To be completely honest with you, I don’t really care about Sabre. I want the one who’s behind him.’
Monsel seemed shaken. ‘This is a dreadful man, Emban,’ he said in a hushed tone.
‘Implacable is the word, I think.’
‘If we can believe Oscagne – and I think we can – someone’s using the arcane arts in this business,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘That’s why the Church Knights were created originally. It’s our business to deal with magic. Our Elene religion can’t cope with it because there’s no place in our faith for it. We had to go outside the faith – to the Styrics – to learn how to counteract magic. It opened some doors we might have preferred had been left closed, but that’s the price we had to pay. Somebody – or something – on the other side’s using magic of a very high order. I’m here to stop him – to kill him if need be. Once he’s gone, the Atans can deal with Sabre. I know an Atan, and if her people are at all like her, I know we can count on them to be thorough.’
‘You trouble me, Sparhawk,’ Monsel admitted. ‘Your devotion to your duty’s almost inhuman, and your resolve goes even beyond that. You shame me, Sparhawk.’ He sighed and sat tugging at his beard, his eyes lost in thought. Finally, he straightened. ‘All right, Emban, can we suspend the rules?’
‘I didn’t quite follow that.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell you this,’ the Archimandrite said, ‘first of all because it’ll probably raise your doctrinal hackles, but more importantly because I didn’t really want to share it with you. This implacable Sparhawk of yours has convinced me otherwise. If I don’t tell you what I know, he’ll dismantle Astel and everyone in it to get the information, won’t you, Sparhawk?’
‘I’d really hate that, your Grace.’
‘But you’d do it anyway, wouldn’t you?’
‘If I had to.’
Monsel shuddered. ‘You’re both churchmen, so I’m going to invoke the rule of clerical confidentiality. You haven’t changed the requirements of that in Chyrellos yet, have you, Emban?’
‘Not unless Sarathi did it since I’ve been gone. At any rate, you have our word that neither of us will reveal anything you tell us.’
‘Except to another clergyman,’ Monsel amended. ‘I’ll go that far.’
‘All right,’ Emban agreed.
Monsel leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. ‘The Tamuls have