The Diamond Throne

will die one by one until only Sephrenia is left.’
    ‘And then?’ Bevier asked, his voice shaking.
    Then I will also depart,’ Sephrenia replied simply.
    A stifled sob escaped the young Cyrinic. ‘Not while I have breath,’ he said in a choked voice.
    ‘Someone, however, is trying to speed things up,’ Sparhawk went on. This is the third attempt on Sephrenia’s life since we left Cimmura.’
    ‘But I have survived them,’ she said as if they were of no moment. ‘Were you able in any way to identify the people behind this attack?’
    ‘Martel and some Styric,’ Kalten told her. The Styric had put a spell on the mercenaries to keep them from talking, but Ulath broke it somehow. He spoke with a prisoner in a language I didn’t understand. The man answered in the same tongue.’
    She looked inquiringly at the Thalesian knight.
    ‘We spoke in the language of the Trolls,’ Ulath shrugged. ‘It’s a nonhuman tongue, so it circumvented the spell.’
    She stared at him in horror. ‘You called upon the Troll-Gods?’ she gasped.
    ‘Sometimes it’s necessary, Lady,’ he replied. ‘It’s not too dangerous, if you’re careful.’
    Bevier’s face was tear-streaked. ‘An it please you, myLord Sparhawk,’ he said, ‘I shall personally undertake the protection of the Lady Sephrenia. I shall remain constantly at this valiant lady’s side, and should there be further encounters, I pledge you my life that she shall not be harmed.’
    A brief expression of consternation crossed Sephrenia’s face, and she looked appealingly at Sparhawk.
    ‘Probably not a bad idea,’ he said, ignoring her unspoken objection. ‘All right then, Bevier. Stay with her.’
    Sephrenia gave him a withering look.
    ‘Are we going to get the dead under the ground?’ Tynian asked.
    Sparhawk shook his head. ‘We don’t have time to be gravediggers. My brothers are dying one by one, and Sephrenia’s at the end of the list. If we see some peasants, we’ll tell them where the bodies are. The loot they’ll get will more than pay for the digging. Let’s move along.’
    Borrata was a university town that had grown up around the stately buildings of the oldest centre of higher learning in Eosia. On occasion in the past, the Church had strongly urged that the institution be moved to Chyrellos, but the faculty had always resisted that notion, obviously desiring to maintain their independence and the absence of Church supervision.
    Sparhawk and his companions took rooms in one of the local inns late in the afternoon on the day they arrived. The inn was more comfortable and certainly cleaner than the roadside ones in which they had stayed in Elenia and here in Cammoria.
    The following morning, Sparhawk put on his mail coat and his heavy woollen cloak.
    ‘Do you want us to go with you?’ Kalten asked as his friend came down into the common room on the main floor of the inn.
    ‘No,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Let’s not turn it into a parade. The university isn’t very far from here, and I can protect Sephrenia along the way.’
    Sir Bevier looked as if he were about to protest. He had taken his self-appointed role as Sephrenia’s protector very seriously, seldom moving more than a few feet from her side during the journey to Borrata. Sparhawk looked at the earnest young Cyrinic. ‘I know you’ve been keeping watch outside her door every night, Bevier,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep? You won’t be much good to her – or the rest of us – if you fall out of your saddle.’
    Bevier’s face stiffened.
    ‘He didn’t mean it personally, Bevier,’ Kalten said. ‘Sparhawk just hasn’t quite figured out the meaning of the word “diplomatic” yet. We’re all hoping that someday it might come to him.’
    Bevier smiled faintly, then he laughed. ‘I think it might take me some time to adjust to you Pandions,’ he said.
    ‘Look upon it as educational,’ Kalten suggested.
    ‘You know that if you and the Lady are successful in finding that cure, we’re likely to encounter all kinds of trouble on the way back to Cimmura,’ Tynian said to Sparhawk. ‘We’ll probably run into whole armies trying to stop us.’
    ‘Madel,’ Ulath suggested cryptically, ‘or Sarrinium.’
    ‘I don’t quite follow,’ Tynian admitted.
    ‘Those armies you mentioned will try to block the road to Chyrellos to keep us from getting there – and then on into Elenia. If we ride south to either of those seaports, we can hire a ship and