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

all leave.’

      ‘And what would you like me to do, Vanion?’ Sephrenia asked him.

      He smiled. ‘Why don’t you have another cup of tea, Sephrenia?’

      ‘Thank you, Vanion. I believe I will.’

Chapter 8

      The weather had turned cold, and the sullen afternoon sky was spitting pellets of hard-frozen snow. A hundred cloaked and black-armoured Pandion Knights rode at a jingling trot through the heavily forested region near the Arcian border with Sparhawk and Sephrenia in the lead. They had been travelling for five days.

      Sparhawk glanced up at the sky and reined in the black horse he was riding. The horse reared, pawing at the air with his front hooves. ‘Oh, stop that,’ Sparhawk told him irritably.

      ‘He’s very enthusiastic, isn’t he?’ Sephrenia said.

      ‘He’s also not very bright. I’ll be glad when we catch up with Kalten and I can get Faran back.’

      ‘Why are we stopping?’

      ‘It’s close to evening, and that grove over there seems to be fairly clear of undergrowth. We may as well set up our night’s encampment here.’ He raised his voice then, calling back over his shoulder. ‘Sir Parasim,’ he shouted.

      The young knight with the butter-coloured hair rode forward. ‘Yes, my Lord Sparhawk?’ he said in his light tenor voice.

      ‘We’ll stop for the night here,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘As soon as the wagons get here, set up Sephrenia’s tent for her and see to it that she has everything she needs.’

      ‘Of course, my Lord.’

      The sky had turned a chill purple by the time Sparhawk had overseen the setting up of their encampment and had posted sentries. He walked past the tents and the flickering cooking fires to join Sephrenia at the small fire before her tent, which was set slightly apart from the rest of the camp. He smiled when he saw her ever-present tea-kettle hanging from a metal tripod which she had set over the flames.

      ‘Something amusing, Sparhawk?’ she asked.

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not really.’ He looked back towards the youthful knights moving around their cooking fires. ‘They all seem so young,’ he said almost as if to himself, ‘hardly more than boys.’

      ‘That’s the nature of things, Sparhawk. The old make the decisions, and the young carry them out.’

      ‘Was I ever that young?’

      She laughed. ‘Oh yes, dear Sparhawk,’ she told him. ‘You couldn’t begin to believe how young you and Kalten were when you came to me for your first lessons. I felt as if a pair of babies had been placed in my care.’

      He made a rueful face. ‘I guess that answers that question, doesn’t it?’ He held out his hands to the warmth of her fire. ‘It’s a cold night. I think my blood thinned out while I was in Jiroch. I haven’t been really warm since I came back to Elenia. Did Parasim bring you your supper?’

      ‘Yes. He’s a very nice boy, isn’t he?’

      Sparhawk laughed. ‘He’d probably be offended if he heard you say that.’

      ‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’

      ‘Of course, but he’d be offended all the same. Young knights are always sensitive.’

      ‘Have you ever heard him sing?’

      ‘Once. In chapel.’

      ‘He has a glorious voice, doesn’t he?’

      Sparhawk nodded. ‘I don’t think he really belongs in a militant order. A regular monastery would probably suit his temperament better.’ He looked around, then stepped outside the circle of firelight, dragged a log to the side of the fire, and covered it with his cloak. ‘It’s not exactly an easy chair,’ he apologized, ‘but it’s better than sitting on the ground.’

      ‘Thank you, Sparhawk.’ She smiled. ‘That was very thoughtful of you.’

      ‘I do have a few manners, I suppose.’ He looked at her gravely. ‘This is going to be a hard journey for you, I’m afraid.’

      ‘I can endure it, my dear.’

      ‘Perhaps, but don’t go out of your way to be unnecessarily brave. If you get tired or cold, don’t hesitate to say something to me.’

      ‘I’ll be just fine, Sparhawk. Styrics are a hardy people.’

      ‘Sephrenia,’ he said then, ‘how long will it be until the twelve knights who were in the throne room with you begin to die?’

      ‘That’s really impossible to say, Sparhawk.’

      ‘Will you know – each time it happens, I mean?’

      ‘Yes. At the moment, I’m the one to whom their swords will be delivered.’

      ‘Their swords?’

      ‘The swords were the instruments of the spell, and they symbolize the burden that must be passed on.’

      ‘Wouldn’t it have been wiser to have distributed that responsibility?’

      ‘I chose not to.’

      ‘That might have been a mistake.’

      ‘Perhaps, but it was mine to make.’

      He began to pace angrily. ‘We should be working on a cure instead of riding halfway across Arcium,’ he burst out.

      ‘This is important, too, Sparhawk.’

      ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you and Ehlana,’ he said, ‘and Vanion, too.’

      ‘There’s still time, dear one.’

      He sighed. ‘Are you all settled in, then?’ he asked her.

      ‘Yes. I have everything I need.’

      ‘Try to get a good night’s sleep. We’ll be starting early. Good night, Sephrenia.’

      ‘Sleep well, Sparhawk.’

      He awoke as daybreak had begun to spread its light through the wood. He strapped on his armour, shivering at the touch of the cold plate. He emerged from the tent he shared with five other knights and looked around the sleeping camp. Sephrenia’s fire was flickering in front of her tent again, and her white robe gleamed in the steely light of dawn and the glow of her fire.

      ‘You’re up early,’ he said as he approached her.

      ‘So are you. How far is it to the border?’

      ‘We should cross into Arcium today.’

      And then from somewhere out in the forest they heard a strange, flute-like sound. The melody was in a minor key, but it was not sad; rather it seemed filled with an ageless joy.

      Sephrenia’s eyes grew wide, and she made a peculiar gesture with her right hand.

      ‘A shepherd maybe?’ Sparhawk said.

      ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not a shepherd.’ She stood up. ‘Come with me, Sparhawk,’ she said, and then she led him away from the fire.

      The sky was growing lighter as they moved out into the meadow lying just to the south of their encampment, following the flute-like sound. They approached the sentry Sparhawk had stationed there.

      ‘You heard it, too, my Lord Sparhawk?’ the black-armoured knight asked.

      ‘Yes. Can you see who it is or where it’s coming from?’

      ‘I can’t make out who it is yet, but it seems to be coming from that tree out in the centre of the meadow. Do you