The Diamond Throne

hands.’
    Sparhawk rose and went to one of the embrasured windows with his black cape swirling about his ankles. The sky was still covered with dirty-looking cloud, and the city of Cimmura seemed to crouch beneath that scud as if clenched to endure yet another winter. ‘It’s hot there,’ he mused, almost as if to himself, ‘and dry and dusty The sun reflects back from the walls and pierces the eye At first light, before the sun rises and the sky is like molten silver, veiled women in black robes and with clay vessels on their shoulders pass in silence through the streets on their way to the wells.’
    ‘I’ve misjudged you, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said in her melodic voice. ‘You have the soul of a poet.’
    ‘Not really, Sephrenia. It’s just that you need to get the feel of Rendor to understand what’s happening there. The sun is like the blows of a hammer on the top of your head, and the air is so hot and dry that it leaves no time for thought. Rendors seek simplistic answers. The sun doesn’t give them time for pondering. That might explain what happened to Eshand in the first place. A simple shepherd with his brains half baked out isn’t the logical receptacle for any kind of profound epiphany. It’s the aggravation of the sun, I think, that gave the Eshandist Heresy its impetus in the first place. Those poor fools would have accepted any idea, no matter how absurd, just for the chance to move around – and perhaps find some shade’
    ‘That’s a novel explanation for a movement that plunged all of Eosia into three centuries of warfare,’ Vanion observed.
    ‘You have to experience it,’ Sparhawk told him, returning to his seat. ‘Anyway, one of those sun-baked enthusiasts arose at Dabour about twenty years ago.’
    ‘Arasham?’ Vanion surmised. ‘We’ve heard of him.’
    ‘That’s what he calls himself,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He was probably born with a different name, though. Religious leaders tend to change their names fairly often to fit the prejudices of their followers. From what I understand, Arasham is an unlettered, unwashed fanatic with only a tenuous grip on reality. He’s about eighty or so, and he sees things and hears voices. His followers have less intelligence than their sheep. They’d gladly attack the kingdoms of the north – if they could only figure out which way north is. That’s a matter of serious debate in Rendor. I’ve seen a few of them. These heretics that send the members of the Hierocracy in Chyrellos trembling to their beds every night are little more than howling desert dervishes, poorly armed andwith no military training. Frankly, Vanion, I’d worry more about the next winter storm than any kind of resurgence of the Eshandist Heresy in Rendor.‘ ‘That’s blunt enough.’
    ‘I’ve just wasted ten years of my life on a nonexistent danger. I’m sure you’ll forgive a certain amount of discontent about the whole thing.’
    ‘Patience will come to you, Sparhawk.’ Sephrenia smiled. ‘Once you have reached maturity’
    ‘I thought that I already had.’
    ‘Not by half.’
    He grinned at her then. ‘Just how old are you, Sephrenia?’ he asked.
    Her look was filled with resignation. ‘What is it about you Pandions that makes you all ask that same question? You know I’m not going to answer you. Can’t you just accept the fact that I’m older than you are and let it go at that?’
    ‘You’re also older than I am,’ Vanion added. ‘You were my teacher when I was no older than those boys who guard my door’
    ‘And do I look so very, very old?’
    ‘My dear Sephrenia, you’re as young as spring and as wise as winter. You’ve ruined us all, you know. After we’ve known you, the fairest of maidens have no charm for us.’
    ‘Isn’t he nice?’ She smiled at Sparhawk. ‘Surely no man alive has so beguiling a tongue.’
    ‘Try him sometime when you’ve just missed a pass with the lance,’ Sparhawk replied sourly He shifted his shoulders under the weight of his armour. ‘What else is afoot? I’ve been gone a long time and I’m hungry for news.’
    ‘Otha’s mobilizing,’ Vanion told him. ‘The word that’s coming out of Zemoch is that he’s looking eastwardtowards Daresia and the Tamul Empire, but I’ve got a few doubts about that.’
    ‘And I have more than a few,’ Sephrenia agreed. ‘The kingdoms of the west are suddenly awash with Styric vagabonds. They camp at crossroads and hawk the rude goods of Styricum, but