The Diamond Throne

Sparhawk and the others kept their hoods up and rode slowly to avoid attracting attention.
    It was late morning when they reached a modest house set some distance back from the street. The man who owned the house was Sir Voren, a Pandion Knight, although few in Jiroch were aware of that fact. Most people in the port city thought of him as a moderately prosperous Elenian merchant. He did, in fact, engage in trade. Some years, he even made a profit. Sir Voren’s real purpose for being in Jiroch was not commercial, however. There were a goodly number of Pandion Knights submerged in the general population of Rendor, and Voren was their only contact with the motherhouse at Demos. All their communications and dispatches passed through his hands to be concealed in the boxes and bales of goods he shipped from the harbour.
    A slack-lipped servant with dull, uncurious eyes ledSparhawk and the others through the house and on into a walled garden filled with the shade of fig trees and the musical trickle of a marble fountain in the centre. Neatly tended flowerbeds lined the walls, and the nodding blossoms were a riot of colours. Voren was seated on a bench beside the fountain. He was a tall, thin man with a sardonic sense of humour. His years in this southern kingdom had browned his skin until it was the colour of an old saddle. Though he was of late middle age, his hair was untouched by grey, but his tanned face was a tracery of wrinkles. He wore no doublet, but rather a plain linen shirt open at the neck. He rose as they entered the garden. ‘Ah, Mahkra,’ he greeted Sparhawk with a brief, sidelong glance at the servant, ‘so good to see you again, old boy’
    ‘Voren,’ Sparhawk responded with a Rendorish bow, a sinuous movement that was half genuflection.
    ‘Jintal,’ Voren said to the servant then, ‘be a good fellow and take this to my factor down at the docks.’ He folded a sheet of parchment in half and handed it to the swarthy-faced Rendor
    ‘As you command, Master,’ the servant replied, bowing.
    They waited until the sound of the front door of the house closing announced that the servant had departed.
    ‘Nice enough fellow there,’ Voren observed. ‘Of course he’s fearfully stupid. I’m always careful to hire servants who aren’t too bright. An intelligent servant is usually a spy.’ Then his eyes narrowed. ‘Wait here a moment,’ he said. ‘I want to be sure he has really left the house.’ He crossed the garden and went back inside.
    ‘I don’t remember his being that nervous,’ Kurik said.
    This is a nervous part of the world,’ Sparhawk replied.
    After a few minutes, Voren returned. ‘Little mother,’ he greeted Sephrenia warmly, kissing her palms. ‘Will you give me your blessing?’
    She smiled, touched his forehead, and spoke in Styric
    ‘I’ve missed that,’ he confessed, ‘even though I haven’t done much lately that deserves blessing.’ Then he looked at her more closely ‘Aren’t you well, Sephrenia?’ he asked her ‘Your face seems very drawn.’
    ‘The heat, perhaps,’ she said, passing a slow hand across her eyes.
    ‘Sit here,’ he said, pointing at his marble bench. ‘It’s the coolest place in all of Jiroch.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Which isn’t saying all that much, I’ll grant you.’
    She sat on the bench, and Flute clambered up beside her
    ‘Well, Sparhawk,’ Voren said, clasping his friend’s hand, ‘what brings you back to Jiroch so soon? Did you leave something behind, perhaps?’
    ‘Nothing I can’t live without,’ Sparhawk replied dryly
    Voren laughed. ‘Just to show you how good a friend I am, I won’t tell Lillias that you said that. Hello, Kurik. How’s Aslade?’
    ‘She’s well, my Lord Voren.’
    ‘And your sons? You have three, don’t you?’
    ‘Four, my Lord. The last one was born after you left Demos.’
    ‘Congratulations,’ Voren said, ‘a little late, maybe, but congratulations all the same ’
    ‘Thank you, my Lord.’
    ‘I need to talk with you, Voren,’ Sparhawk said, cutting across the pleasantries, ‘and we don’t have much time’
    ‘And here I thought this was a social visit.’ Voren sighed.
    Sparhawk let that pass. ‘Has Vanion managed to get word to you about what’s been going on in Cimmura?’
    The lightly ironic smile faded from Voren’s face, and he nodded seriously ‘That’s one of the reasons I wassurprised to see you,’ he said. ‘I thought you were going to Borrata. Did you have any