[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
loved to tell Koubatzes he didn't think the one had anything to do with the
other. He would have loved to but he couldn't.
"What did you ask him, then?" Koubatzes rapped out.
"Whether I would become ecumenical patriarch." The answer flew from Rhavas'
lips. He wondered whether the wizard had used some small spell to suck it out
of him.
By the way Koubatzes blinked, that wasn't the question he'd looked for. He
asked, "And did he answer it before he died?"
"No." Rhavas shook his head. "He may have seen the answer, but he did not give
it."
Koubatzes grunted. "Too bad."
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Yes, I think so, too," Rhavas said. The question had eaten at him ever since
Eladas expired in his study.
What had the soothsayer seen? Would he be patriarch? Would he not? What
disaster would spring from whatever the answer was?
He'd thought about giving gold to another soothsayer. Maybe Eladas' death was
nothing but a coincidence. Maybe. Try as Rhavas would, he couldn't make
himself believe it. The folk of Skopentzana assumed Eladas' passing had been a
coincidence. They wouldn't think so if a second man died on the same errand.
With a worn, weary sigh, Rhavas urged his horse ahead. Koubatzes rode on after
him. Neither of them said much after that till they came to Skopentzana.
Tears stung Rhavas' eyes. No, it wasn't Videssos the city. No other place in
the world came close to
Videssos the city, not even Mashiz, the capital of Makuran. Rhavas doubted
even the Makuraner King of Kings would have quarreled with that. But, even if
it wasn't what he had left, it was an outpost of civilization.
Men in helmets with spears on their shoulders tramped the walls. They weren't
soldiers, not in any real sense of the word. They were artisans taking one
morning or afternoon a week off from their regular work to keep up the
illusion that Skopentzana was garrisoned. From a distance, they resembled the
warriors who'd gone off to fight in Videssos' civil war. Maybe the Khamorth
would take one look at them, decide Skopentzana was ready to fend off any
attack, and go away to bother the nearby farms and villages. In that case, the
local militia would more than have done its duty.
But what if the barbarians didn't?
Would the militiamen fight? Probably. Would they fight bravely? Some would, no
doubt. Would they fight well enough to keep the Khamorth out of Skopentzana?
How could anyone tell before they were tested?
Rhavas murmured Phos' creed, bearing down slightly on watchful beforehand and
the great test of life
. He'd spoken the creed when Koubatzes and the other mages aimed their spell
against the Khamorth, too. Much good it had done him or them then. He prayed
now that the good god would spare
Skopentzana, which had had small part, if any, in the sins of those farther
south.
The gates were closed. That relieved Rhavas' mind. Someone probably
Zautzes was taking all this seriously. The great valves swung open wide enough
to admit the prelate and the mage. Then, grunting with effort, the amateur
gate crew swung them closed again and awkwardly lowered the heavy bars that
secured them.
"How did it go, sorcerous sir?" one of the militiamen called cheerfully to
Koubatzes. Rhavas knew the man, at least by sight. He made dishes and clay
pots. He was very good at that. What sort of soldier he made . . . was all too
likely to be a different sort of question.
Before replying, Koubatzes flicked a questioning glance toward Rhavas. The
prelate nodded not a showy nod, but a firm one. If Koubatzes didn't tell the
truth now, it would come home to roost soon enough anyhow.
Perhaps seeing the same thing, Koubatzes sighed and said, "It went not well at
all, I fear. The barbarians not only repelled our sorcery but struck back at
us with strength we could not match. It was an evil day, and the nomads even
now move toward the city."
The potter stared at him. "How could that happen?"
"It was easier than any of us dreamt it might be," Rhavas answered. "Easier
for them, I should say."
Ruefully, Koubatzes nodded agreement.
All the gate crew murmured. Another man this one a woodworker famous not only
for fine furniture but also for oars said, "But what do we do now, if this be
so?"
Wizard and prelate looked at each other. "Pray," Koubatzes said before Rhavas
Page 49
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
could speak. "Pray, and hope even prayer suffices."
"If prayer does not suffice, nothing ever will," Rhavas declared.
Koubatzes refused to back down. In light of the disaster that had befallen the
sorcerers and their companions, that was perhaps less startling than it might
have been otherwise. "So I said, very holy sir,"
he replied. "By what we have seen, it may be that nothing suffices."
"What prayer can do, prayer shall do," Rhavas said. "I, and this whole city,
will pray as we have never prayed before."
* * *
Rhavas had many reasons to complain about Skopentzana. Winter there was a
horror the likes of which he had never known before coming to the far north.
The town was years behind the times. Even the local accent was old-fashioned.
What most of the complaints boiled down to was that Skopentzana wasn't
Videssos the city. The prelate had never complained of the Skopentzanans'
impiety.
Nor could he complain of it now. Though days had begun to grow longer after
the solstice, they still remained short and cold, so cold. Nevertheless,
people began coming to the chief temple (and to the other temples in the city)
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]