The Ruby Knight

her mad?’
    ‘You’ve been trained as a monk, Occuda,’ Sparhawk said, ‘so you’ve probably had some theological instruction. Are you familiar with the name Azash?’
    ‘The God of the Zemochs?’
    ‘That’s Him. The Styrics in that house in Chyrellos were Zemochs, and it’s Azash who owns Lady Bellina’s soul. Is there any way she could possibly have escaped from that tower?’
    ‘Absolutely impossible, My Lord.’
    ‘Somehow she managed to infect that minstrel, and he was able to pass it on to Bevier.’
    ‘She could not have left the tower, Sir Knight,’ Occuda said adamantly.
    ‘I’ll need to talk with Sephrenia,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Thank you for being so honest, Occuda.’
    ‘I told you all this in the hope that you could help the count.’ Occuda rose to his feet.
    ‘We’ll do what we can.’
    ‘Thank you. I’ll go chain your friend’s door shut.’ He started towards the door, then turned back. ‘Sir Knight,’ he said in a sombre tone, ‘do you think I should kill her? Might that not be better?’
    ‘It may come to that, Occuda,’ Sparhawk said frankly, ‘and if you do, you’ll have to cut off her head. Otherwise, she’ll just rise again.’
    ‘I can do that if I have to. I have an axe, and I’ll do anything to spare the count more suffering.’
    Sparhawk put a comforting hand on the servant’s shoulder. ‘You’re a good and true man, Occuda,’ he said. ‘The count’s lucky to have you in his service.’
    ‘Thank you, My Lord.’
    Sparhawk removed his armour and went down the corridor to Sephrenia’s door.
    ‘Yes?’ she said in response to his knock.
    ‘It’s me, Sephrenia,’ he said.
    ‘Come in, dear one,’ she said.
    He entered her room. ‘I had a talk with Occuda,’ he said.
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘He told me what’s been happening here. I’m not sure if you want to hear it.’
    ‘If I’m to cure Bevier, I’m afraid I’ll have to.’
    ‘We were right,’ Sparhawk began. ‘The Pelosian woman we saw going into that Zemoch house in Chyrellos was the count’s sister.’
    ‘I was sure of it. What else?’
    Briefly, Sparhawk repeated what Occuda had told him, glossing over the more gory details.
    ‘It’s consistent,’ she said almost clinically. ‘That form of sacrifice is a part of the worship of Azash.’
    ‘There’s more,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘When he entered the chamber in the cellar, Occuda saw a shadowy figure back in one of the corners. It was robed and hooded, and its face glowed green.’
    Sephrenia drew in her breath sharply.
    ‘Could Azash have more than one Seeker out there?’
    ‘With an Elder God, anything is possible.’
    ‘It couldn’t be the same one,’ he said. ‘Nothing can be in two places at the same time.’
    ‘As I said, dear one, with an Elder God, anything is possible.’
    ‘Sephrenia,’ he said in a strained voice, ‘I hate to say it, but all this is beginning to frighten me just a little.’
    ‘And me as well, dear Sparhawk. Keep the spear of Aldreas close to you. The power of Bhelliom may protect you. Now go to bed. I need to think.’
    ‘Will you bless me before I sleep, little mother?’ he asked, dropping to his knees. He suddenly felt like a small, helpless child. He gently kissed her palms.
    ‘With all my heart, my dear one,’ she replied, enfolding his head in her arms and drawing him to her. ‘You are the best of them all, Sparhawk,’ she said to him, ‘and if you be but strong, not even the gates of Hell can prevail against you.’
    As he rose to his feet, Flute slid down off her bed and gravely came to him. He felt suddenly unable to move. The little girl took him by the wrists in a gentle grasp that he was powerless to resist. She turned his hands over and gently kissed each of his palms, and her kisses burned in his blood like holy fire. Shaken, Sparhawk left the room without a further word.
    He slept fitfully, waking often and stirring uneasily in his bed. The night seemed interminable, and the rumble of thunder shook the very foundations of the castle. The rain the storm had brought with it clawed at the window of the room in which Sparhawk tried to sleep, and water ran in torrents from the slate roof to hammer the stones of the courtyard. It must have been well past midnight when he finally gave up. He threw off his blankets and sat moodily on the edge of the bed. What were they going to do about Bevier? He knew that the Arcian’s faith was strong, but the Cyrinic Knight did not have