[canon] the shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe
Martel wore a very expensive suit of armour, its cuirass and shoulder-plates embossed with gold and silver and with the steel itself highly burnished. It appeared to be of Deiran forging, and it was much more elegant than the functional armour of the Church Knights. When he was within a few yards of Sparhawk and Vanion, he thrust the butt of his lance into the ground and removed his ornate, white-plumed helmet. His white hair flowed out behind him in the stiff breeze. 'My Lord,' he said with exaggerated courtesy, inclining his head to Vanion.
Vanion's face was icy. He did not speak to the knight he had expelled from the Pandion Order, but motioned Sparhawk forward instead.
'Ah,' Martel said in a tone that might even have been one of genuine regret, 'I expected better of you, Vanion. Oh well, I'll talk with Sparhawk instead. Feel free to listen in, if you'd like.'
Sparhawk also drove the butt of his lance into the turf, and he also removed his helmet as he nudged Faran forward.
'You're looking well, old boy,' Martel said.
'You look about the same - except for the fancy armour.'
'I recently had occasion to do some thinking,' Martel replied. 'I've gathered up a great deal of money in the last several years, but it occurred to me that I wasn't enjoying it very much. I decided to buy some new toys.'
'That's a new horse too, isn't it?' Sparhawk looked at Martel's bulky black mount.
'Do you like him? I could get you one from the same stable, if you'd like.''
'I'll stick with Faran.'
'Did you ever civilise that ugly brute?'
'I sort of like him the way he is. What are your intentions here, Martel?'
'Isn't it obvious, old boy? I'm going to seize the Holy City. If I were speaking for public approval, I could put a better face on it and use the word "liberate" I suppose, but since we're such old friends, I suppose I can afford to be frank. To put it in plain terms, Sparhawk, I'm going to march into the Holy City, and, as the saying goes, bend it to my will. '
'You mean you're going to try, Martel.'
'Who's going to stop me?'
'Your own good sense, I hope. You're a bit deranged, but you've never been stupid.'
Martel gave him a mocking half-bow.
'Where did you come up with all the troops on such short notice?'
'Short notice?' Martel laughed. 'You don't pay much attention to things, do you, Sparhawk? You spent too much time in Jiroch, I'm afraid. All that sun.' He shuddered. 'By the way, have you heard from the lovely Lillias lately?' He threw that in quickly, obviously showing off his knowledge of Sparhawk's activities for the past several years in the hope of discomfiting his former brother.
'She was well - last I heard.' Sparhawk gave no hint that he was at all surprised.
'I may just take her when this is all over. She's a significant sort of woman, I noticed. It might amuse me to dally with your former mistress.'
'Get lots of rest, Martel. I don't really think you've got enough stamina for Lillias. You still haven't answered my question, though.'
'Thought you could answer it for yourself, old boy, now that I've nudged your memory a bit. I gathered the Lamorks while I was up there fomenting discord between Baron Alstrom and Count Gerich. The Camorian mercenaries are always available. All I had to do was pass the word, and they came running. The Rendors weren't that difficult, once I'd disposed of Arasham. Incidentally, he kept croaking the word 'Ramshorn' while he was dying. Could that possibly have been that secret word you cooked up? Very pedestrian, Sparhawk. Most unimaginative. The new spiritual leader of Rendor is a much easier man to manage.'
'I've met him,' Sparhawk said shortly. 'I wish you joy in his companionship.'
'Oh, Ulesim's not so bad - as long as you stay upwind of him. Anyway, I landed in Arcium, sacked and burned Coombe and marched on Larium. I must say that Wargun took his own sweet time getting there, though. When he arrived, I rode away and then led him around in circles down in Arsium. It was a way to amuse myself while I was awaiting word of the passing of the revered Cluvonus. By the way, did you give him a nice funeral?"
'Fairly standard.'
'I'm sorry I missed it.'
'There's something else you should be sorry about, Martel. Annias isn't going to be able to pay you. Ehlana's 'recovered and cut him off from her treasury again.'
'Yes, I'd heard about that - from Princess Arissa and her son. I freed them from that cloister as a favour to the Primate of Cimmura. There was a slight misunderstanding while I was releasing them, though, and all the nuns in that cloister died quite suddenly. Regrettable, perhaps, but you religious types really shouldn't become involved in politics, you know. My soldiers also set fire to the cloister as we were riding away. I'll convey your best wishes to Arissa when I rejoin my troops. She's been staying in my pavilion since we left Demos. The horrors of her confinement quite unnerved her, and I've been sort of offering what comfort I could.'
'You're passing up an awfully good opportunity, Sparhawk,' Kalten said. 'If Martel catches a stray crossbow bolt in the eye, that whole army out there will
fall apart.'
"Not just yet,' Sparhawk said. 'Let's see if I can irritate him just a bit first. Martel sometimes blurts things out when he's irritated. Let's see if I can jolt something out of him.'
'That's a fair distance for shouting,' Kalten said.
'I don't have to shout,' Sparhawk smiled.
'I wish you wouldn't do that,' Kalten complained. 'It always makes me feel so inadequate. '
'You should have paid attention to your lessons when you were a novice then.' Sparhawk focused his attention on the white-haired man and wove the intricate Styric spell. 'It sort of went to pieces on you, didn't it, Martel?' He asked in a conversational tone.
'Is that you, Sparhawk?' Martel's voice was just as conversational as he too utilized the spell they had both learned as novices. 'So awfully good to hear your voice again, old boy. I didn't quite follow your comment, though. Things seem to be going fairly well from where I sit.'
'Why don't you see how many of your soldiers you can interest in an assault on these walls about now? Take as long as you want, old boy, I'm not going anywhere.'
'It was really very clever to desert the city, Sparhawk. I wasn't really expecting that.'
'We sort of liked it. It must be causing you a great deal of anguish every time you think about all the loot that's getting away from you, though. '
'Who said it's getting away? I made a few speeches to my men. Most of my army's still under control - out there in the meadows on the other sides of those rivers. I pointed out to them that it's much easier to let the enterprising types do all the work of looting. Then, when they come out, we take the loot away from them and put it all into a common pile. Everybody will share equally.'
'Even you?'
'Oh, good God no, Sparhawk,' Martel laughed. 'I'm the general. I take my share first.'
'The lion's share?'
'I am the lion, after all. We'll all grow very, very wealthy once we break into the treasure vaults below the Basilica.'
'That's going a little far even for you, Martel.'
'Business is business, Sparhawk. You and Vanion stripped me of my honour, so now all I can do is solace myself with money - and satisfaction, of course. I think I'll have your head mounted when this is all over, my friend.'
'It's right here, Martel. All you have to do is come here and claim it. It's going to take your soldiers a long time to loot the city, and you don't really have much time to waste.'
'It won't take them all that long, Sparhawk. They're moving along at a very good clip, you know. A man who thinks he's working for himself is always more industrious. '
'That's only the first wave of looters. They're the ones who are concentrating on gold. The next wave will go looking for silver. Then the third wave will start tearing houses apart looking for the hiding places where people keep valuables. I'd guess that it's going to be a month or so before they've stolen everything in Chyrellos - down to the last brass candlestick. You don't really have a month, old boy - not with Wargun wandering around out there with half the manpower in Eosia behind him.'
'Ah yes, Wargun, the drunken King of Thalesia. I'd almost forgotten him. What do you suppose happened to him? It's so unlike him to be this tardy.'
Sparhawk broke the spell. 'Order your soldiers to drop some arrows on him, Kurik,' he said bleakly.
'What's the trouble, Sparhawk?' Kalten asked.
'Martel's found some way to keep Wargun away from Chyrellos. We'd better go and advise the Preceptors. I'm afraid we're all alone here.'
'Where are they, Martel?' Arissa was asking acidly. 'Where are these brave Zemochs you counted on to protect us? Gathering wild flowers?'
'They're diverting the Peloi, Princess,' Martel replied. 'Do you really want those savages to catch up with us? Don't worry, Arissa. If your appetites are growing uncontrollable, I'll lend you Adus. He doesn't smell very nice, but that's no great drawback where you're concerned, is it?'
Her eyes blazed with sudden hatred, but Martel ignored her.