Domes of Fire. David Eddings

in Eosia. If we’re right about the source of all of this activity being somewhere in Tamuli, that’s the logical place to start looking for answers. Where are you right now?’

      ‘Vanion and I are at Sarsos in eastern Astel. You’d better come here, Sparhawk. These long-distance conversations tend to blur things.’

      Sparhawk thought for a moment, trying to remember the map of Daresia. ‘We’ll come overland then. I’ll find some way to get the others to agree to that.’

      ‘Try not to take too long, Sparhawk. It’s really very important that we talk face to face.’

      ‘Right. Sleep well, little mother.’

      ‘I wasn’t sleeping.’

      ‘Oh? What were you doing?’

      ‘Didn’t you hear what she told you before, Sparhawk?’ his daughter asked him.

      ‘Which was what?’

      ‘She told you that it was none of your business what she was doing.’

      ‘What an astonishingly good idea, your Majesty,’ Oscagne said later that morning when they had all gathered once again in Dolmant’s private audience-chamber. ‘I’d have never thought of it in a million years. The leaders of the subject nations of Tamuli don’t go to Matherion unless they’re summoned by his Imperial Majesty.’

      ‘The rulers of Eosia are less restrained, your Excellency,’ Emban told him. ‘They have total sovereignty.’

      ‘Astonishing. Has your Church no authority over their actions, your Grace?’

      ‘Only in spiritual matters, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Isn’t that inconvenient?’

      ‘You wouldn’t believe how much, Ambassador Oscagne,’ Dolmant sighed, looking at Ehlana reproachfully.

      ‘Be nice, Sarathi,’ she murmured.

      ‘Then no one is really in charge here in Eosia? No one has the absolute authority to make final decisions?’

      ‘It’s a responsibility we share, your Excellency,’ Ehlana explained. ‘We enjoy sharing things, don’t we Sarathi?’

      ‘Of course.’ Dolmant said it without much enthusiasm.

      ‘The rough-and-tumble, give-and-take nature of Eosian politics have a certain utility, your Excellency,’ Stragen drawled. ‘Consensus politics gives us the advantage of bringing together a wide range of views.’

      ‘In Tamuli, we feel that having only one view is far less confusing.’

      ‘The Emperor’s view? What happens when the emperor happens to be an idiot? Or a madman?’

      ‘The government usually works around him,’ Oscagne admitted blandly. ‘Such imperial misfortunes seldom live very long for some reason, however.’

      ‘Ah,’ Stragen said.

      ‘Perhaps we should get down to work,’ Emban said. He crossed the room to a large map of the known world hanging on the wall. ‘The fastest way to travel is by sea,’ he noted. ‘We could sail from Madel in Cammoria out through the Inner Sea and then around the southern tip of Daresia and then up the east coast to Matherion.’

      ‘We?’ Sir Tynian asked.

      ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ Emban said. I’ll be going along. Ostensibly, I’ll be Queen Ehlana’s spiritual advisor. In actuality, I’ll be the Archprelate’s personal envoy.’

      ‘It’s probably wiser to keep the Elenian flavour of the expedition,’ Dolmant explained, ‘for public consumption, anyway. Let’s not complicate things by sending two separate missions to Matherion simultaneously.’

      Sparhawk had to move quickly, and he didn’t have much to work with. ‘Travelling by ship has certain advantages,’ he conceded, ‘but I think there’s a major drawback.’

      ‘Oh?’ Emban said.

      ‘It satisfies the requirements of a state visit, right enough, but it doesn’t do very much to address our real reason for going to Tamuli. Your Excellency, what’s likely to happen when we reach Matherion?’

      ‘The usual,’ Oscagne shrugged. ‘Audiences, banquets, reviewing troops, concerts, that giddy round of meaningless activity we all adore.’

      ‘Precisely,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘And we won’t really get anything done, will we?’

      ‘Probably not.’

      ‘But we aren’t going to Tamuli for a month-long carouse. What we’re really going there for is to find out what’s behind all the upheaval. We need information, not entertainment, and the information’s probably out in the hinterlands, not in the capital. I think we should find some reason to go across country.’ It was a practical suggestion, and it rather neatly concealed Sparhawk’s real reason for wanting to go overland.

      Emban’s expression was pained. ‘We’d be on the road for months that way.’

      ‘We can get as much done as we’ll accomplish in Matherion by staying home, your Grace. We have to get outside the Capital.’

      Emban groaned. ‘You’re absolutely bent on making me ride a horse all the way from here to Matherion, aren’t you, Sparhawk?’

      ‘You could stay home, your Grace,’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘We could always take Patriarch Bergsten instead. He’d be better in a fight anyway.’

      ‘That will do, Sparhawk,’ Dolmant said firmly.

      ‘Consensus politics are very interesting, Milord Stragen,’ Oscagne observed. ‘In Matherion, we’d have followed the course suggested by the Primate of Ucera without any further discussion. We try to avoid raising the possibility of alternatives whenever possible.’

      ‘Welcome to Eosia, your Excellency,’ Stragen smiled.

      ‘Permission to speak?’ Khalad said politely.

      ‘Of course,’ Dolmant replied.

      Khalad rose, went to the map and began measuring distance. ‘A good horse can cover ten leagues a day, and a good ship can cover thirty – if the wind holds.’ He frowned and looked around. ‘Why is Talen never around when you need him?’ he muttered. ‘He can compute these numbers in his head. I have to count them up on my fingers.’

      ‘He said he had something to take care of,’ Berit told him.

      Khalad grunted. ‘All we’re really interested in is what’s going on in Daresia, so there’s no need to ride across Eosia. We could sail from Madel the way Patriarch Emban suggested, go out through the Inner Sea and then up the east coast of Zemoch to –’ He looked at the map and then pointed. ‘To Salesha here. That’s nine hundred leagues – thirty days. If we were to follow the roads, it’d probably be the same distance overland, but that would take us ninety days. We’d save two months at least.’

      ‘Well,’ Emban conceded grudgingly, ‘that’s something, anyway.’

      Sparhawk was fairly sure that they could save much more than sixty days. He looked across the room at his daughter, who was playing with her kitten under Mirtai’s watchful eye. Princess Danae was quite frequently present at conferences where she had no real business. People did not question her presence for some reason. Sparhawk knew that the Child Goddess Aphrael could tamper with the passage of time, but he was not entirely certain that she could manage it so undetectably in her present incarnation as she had when she had been Flute.

      Princess Danae looked back at him and rolled her eyes upward with a resigned expression that spoke volumes about his limited understanding, and then she gravely nodded her head.

      Sparhawk breathed somewhat easier after that. ‘Now we come to the question of the queen’s security,’ he continued. ‘Ambassador