Annias did nothing. He simply waited.
And Chyrellos continued to burn.
Sparhawk stood atop the wall early one evening looking out over the burning city. His mood was sombre. He heard a slight clinking behind him and turned quickly.
It was Sir Bevier. ‘Not too promising, is it?’ the young Arcian said, also looking out at Chyrellos.
‘Not really,’ Sparhawk agreed. He looked directly at his young friend. ‘How long do you think these walls will stand up to a mangonel, Bevier?’
‘Not very long, I’m afraid. The walls were built in antiquity. They weren’t meant to stand up to modern siege-engines. Perhaps Martel won’t bother to construct them. They take a long time to build, and the workers have to know exactly what they’re doing. A poorly constructed mangonel will kill more of its crew than it will the enemy. There’s a great deal of stress involved when you load one.’
‘We can hope, I suppose. I think these walls will stand up to ordinary catapults, but if he starts lobbing half-ton boulders at us –’ Sparhawk shrugged.
‘Sparhawk.’ It was Talen. The boy came quickly up the stairs from below. ‘Sephrenia wants to see you at the chapterhouse. She says it’s urgent.’
‘Go ahead, Sparhawk,’ Bevier said. ‘I’ll keep watch here.’
Sparhawk nodded and went down the stairs to the narrow street below.
Sephrenia met him in the lower hall. Her face was even more pale than usual.
‘What is it?’ Sparhawk asked her.
‘It’s Perraine, dear one,’ she replied in a hushed voice. ‘He’s dying.’
‘Dying? There haven’t been any attacks yet. What happened to him?’
‘He’s killed himself, Sparhawk.’
‘Perraine?’
‘He’s taken poison of some kind, and he refuses to tell me what it is.’
‘Is there any way –?’
She shook her head. ‘He wants to talk with you, Sparhawk. You’d better hurry. I don’t think there’s much time.’
Sir Perraine lay on a narrow cot in a cell-like room. His face was deathly pale, and he was sweating profusely. ‘You certainly took your time, Sparhawk,’ he said in a weak-sounding voice.
‘What’s this all about, Perraine?’
‘It’s something appropriate. Let’s not waste any time with this. There are some things you need to know before I leave.’
‘We can talk about that after Sephrenia gives you the antidote.’
‘There isn’t going to be any antidote. Just be still and listen to me.’ Perraine sighed deeply. ‘I’ve betrayed you, Sparhawk.’
‘You aren’t capable of that, Perraine.’
‘Anyone’s capable of it, my friend. All he needs is some kind of reason. I had one, believe me. Hear me out. I don’t have much time left.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘You’ve noticed that someone’s been trying to kill you lately, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but what’s –’
‘It was me, Sparhawk – or people I’d hired.’
‘You?’
‘Thank God I failed.’
‘Why, Perraine? Have I insulted you somehow?’
‘Don’t be foolish, Sparhawk. I was acting on orders from Martel.’
‘Why would you take orders from Martel?’
‘Because he was holding something over my head. He was threatening someone who was more precious to me than my life itself.’
Sparhawk was stunned. He started to speak, but Perraine held up one hand. ‘Don’t talk, Sparhawk,’ he said. ‘Listen. There isn’t much time. Martel came to me in Dabour just after Arasham died. I went for my sword, of course, but he just laughed at me. He told me to put up the sword if I cared anything at all about Ydra.’
‘Ydra?’
‘The woman I love. She’s from northern Pelosia. Her father’s barony adjoins the one belonging to my father. Ydra and I have loved each other since we were children. I’d die for her without giving it a second thought. Martel knew that somehow, and he reasoned that if I were willing to die for her, I’d also be willing to kill. He told me that he’d given her soul to Azash. I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think he could really do that.’
Sparhawk remembered Count Ghasek’s sister, Bellina. ‘It can be done, Perraine,’ he said bleakly.
‘That’s what I found out. Martel and I travelled to Pelosia, and he showed Ydra to me when she was performing some obscene rite before an image of Azash.’ Tears stood openly in Perraine’s eyes. ‘It was horrible, Sparhawk, horrible.’ He choked back a sob. ‘Martel told me that if I didn’t do exactly as he told me, her corruption would increase until her soul was totally lost. I wasn’t sure if he could really do what he said he would, but I couldn’t take the chance.’
‘He could do it all right, Perraine,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘I’ve seen it.’
‘I was going to kill her,’ Perraine went on, his voice growing weaker, ‘but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Martel watched me struggle with myself, and he just laughed at me. If you ever get the opportunity, I hope you kill him.’
‘You have my word on that, Perraine.’
Perraine sighed again, and his face grew even more pale. ‘An excellent poison, this one,’ he noted. ‘Anyway, Martel had his fist around my heart. He told me to go to Arcium and to join Vanion and the other Pandions there. At the first opportunity, I was to make my way back to the chapterhouse in Cimmura. Somehow he knew that you were going to Thalesia and that you’d most likely be returning through Emsat. He gave me money and instructed me to start hiring murderers. I had to do everything he told me to do. Most of the time it was my assassins who made the attempts on you, but once, when we were coming through Demos on our way here, I actually shot a crossbow at you myself. I could try to pretend that I missed on purpose, but that would be a lie. I was really trying to kill you, Sparhawk.’
‘And the poison at Dolmant’s house?’
‘That was me as well. I was getting desperate. You have uncommonly good luck, my friend. I tried everything I could think of, and I just couldn’t kill you.’
‘And the Rendor who tried to stick a poisoned knife in me in the Basilica?’
Perraine looked a bit startled. ‘I had nothing to do with that, Sparhawk. I swear. We’ve both been in Rendor, and we both know how undependable they are. Someone else must have sent him – maybe even Martel himself.’