The Complete Elenium Trilogy: The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight, The Sapphire Rose. David Eddings

has simply seized this flimsy excuse to violate his banishment. Unless he can present some documentary evidence of having been summoned, he stands convicted of high treason.’ The primate’s smile was thin.

      ‘I thought you’d never ask, Annias,’ Sparhawk said. He reached under his sword belt and drew out a tightly folded parchment tied with a blue ribbon. He untied the ribbon and opened the parchment, the blood-red stone on his ring flashing in the candlelight. ‘This all seems to be in order,’ he said, perusing the document. ‘It has the Queen’s signature on it and her personal seal. Her instructions to me are quite explicit.’ He stretched out his arm, offering the parchment to the Earl of Lenda. ‘What’s your opinion, my Lord?’

      The old man took the parchment and examined it. ‘The seal is the Queen’s,’ he confirmed, ‘and the handwriting is hers. She commands Sir Sparhawk to present himself to her immediately upon her ascension to the throne. It’s a valid royal command, my Lords.’

      ‘Let me see that,’ Annias snapped.

      Lenda passed it on down the table to him.

      The primate read the document with tightly clenched teeth. ‘It’s not even dated,’ he accused.

      ‘Excuse me, your Grace,’ Lenda pointed out, ‘but there is no legal requirement that a royal decree or command be dated. Dating is merely a convention.’

      ‘Where did you get this?’ the primate asked Sparhawk, his eyes narrowing.

      ‘I’ve had it for quite some time.’

      ‘It was obviously written before the Queen ascended the throne.’

      ‘It does appear that way, doesn’t it?’

      ‘It has no validity.’ The primate took the parchment in both hands as if he would tear it in two.

      ‘What’s the penalty for destroying a royal decree, my Lord of Lenda?’ Sparhawk asked mildly.

      ‘Death.’

      ‘I rather thought it might be. Go ahead and rip it up, Annias. I’ll be more than happy to carry out the sentence myself – just to save time and the expense of all the tiresome legal proceedings.’ His eyes locked with those of Annias. After a moment, the primate threw the parchment on the table in disgust.

      Lycheas had watched all of this with a look of growing chagrin. Then he seemed to notice something for the first time. ‘Your ring, Sir Sparhawk,’ he said in his whining voice. ‘That is your badge of office, is it not?’

      ‘In a manner of speaking, yes. Actually the ring – and the Queen’s ring – are symbolic of the link between my family and hers.’

      ‘Give it to me.’

      ‘No.’

      Lycheas’ eyes bulged. ‘I just gave you a royal command!’ he shouted.

      ‘No. It was a personal request, Lycheas. You can’t give royal commands, because you’re not the king.’

      Lycheas looked uncertainly at the primate, but Annias shook his head slightly. The pimpled young man flushed.

      ‘The Prince Regent merely wished to examine the ring, Sir Sparhawk,’ the churchman said smoothly. ‘We have sought its mate, the ring of King Aldreas, but it seems to be missing. Would you have any idea where we might find it?’

      Sparhawk spread his hands. ‘Aldreas had it on his finger when I left for Cippria,’ he replied. ‘The rings are not customarily taken off, so I assume he was still wearing it when he died.’

      ‘No. He was not.’

      ‘Perhaps the Queen has it then.’

      ‘Not so far as we’re able to determine.’

      ‘I want that other ring,’ Lycheas insisted, ‘as a symbol of my authority.’

      Sparhawk looked at him, his face amused. ‘What authority?’ he asked bluntly. ‘The ring belongs to Queen Ehlana, and if someone tries to take it from her, I imagine that I’ll have to take steps.’ He suddenly felt a faint prickling of his skin. It seemed that the candles in their gold candelabras flickered slightly and the blue-draped council chamber grew perceptibly dimmer. Instantly, he began to mutter under his breath in the Styric tongue, carefully weaving the counterspell even as he searched the faces of the men sitting around the council table for the source of the rather crude attempt at magic. When he released the counterspell, he saw Annias flinch and he smiled bleakly. Then he drew himself up. ‘Now,’ he said, his voice crisp, ‘let’s get down to business. Exactly what happened to King Aldreas?’

      The Earl of Lenda sighed. ‘It was the falling-sickness, Sir Sparhawk,’ he replied sadly. ‘The seizures began several months ago, and they grew more and more frequent. The King grew weaker and weaker, and finally –’ He shrugged.

      ‘He didn’t have the falling-sickness when I left Cimmura,’ Sparhawk said.

      ‘The onset was sudden,’ Annias said coldly.

      ‘So it seems. It’s rumoured that the Queen fell ill with the same affliction.’

      Annias nodded.

      ‘Didn’t that strike any of you as odd? There’s never been a history of the disease in the royal family, and isn’t it peculiar that Aldreas didn’t develop symptoms until he was in his forties, and his daughter fell ill when she was little more than eighteen?’

      ‘I have no medical background, Sparhawk,’ Annias told him. ‘You may question the court physicians if you wish, but I doubt that you’re going to unearth anything that we haven’t already discovered.’

      Sparhawk grunted. He looked around the council chamber. ‘I think that covers everything we need to discuss here,’ he said. ‘I’ll see the Queen now.’

      ‘Absolutely not!’ Lycheas said.

      ‘I’m not asking you, Lycheas,’ the big knight said firmly. ‘May I have that?’ He pointed at the parchment still lying on the table in front of the primate.

      They passed it down to him, and he ran through it quickly. ‘Here it is,’ he said, picking out the sentences he wanted. ‘“You are commanded to present yourself to me immediately upon your return to Cimmura.” That doesn’t leave any room for argument, does it?’

      ‘What are you up to, Sparhawk?’ the primate asked suspiciously.

      ‘I’m just obeying orders, your Grace. I’m commanded by the Queen to present myself to her and I’m going to do precisely that.’

      ‘The door to the throne room is locked,’ Lycheas snapped. The smile Sparhawk gave him was almost benign. ‘That’s all right, Lycheas,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a key.’ He put his hand suggestively on the silver-bound hilt of his sword.

      ‘You wouldn’t!’

      ‘Try me.’

      Annias cleared his throat. ‘If I may speak, your Highness?’ he said.

      ‘Of course, your Grace,’ Lycheas replied quickly. ‘The crown is always open to the advice and counsel of the Church.’

      ‘Crown?’ Sparhawk asked.

      ‘A formula, Sir Sparhawk,’ Annias told him. ‘Prince Lycheas speaks for the crown for as long as the Queen is incapacitated.’

      ‘Not to me, he doesn’t.’

      Annias turned back towards Lycheas. ‘It is the advice of the Church that we accede to the somewhat churlish request of the Queen’s Champion,’ he said. ‘Let no one accuse us of incivility. Moreover, the Church advises that the Prince Regent and all of the council accompany Sir Sparhawk to the throne room. He is reputed to be adept at certain forms of magic, and – to protect the Queen’s life – we must not permit him to employ precipitously those arts without full consultation with the court physicians.’