‘That doesn’t match up too well with what Baron Kotyk was telling me,’ Patriarch Emban put in. ‘The baron drank more than was really good for him last night, and he let a number of things slip that he otherwise might not have. It’s his position that Sabre’s primary goal is to drive the Tamuls out of Astel. To be honest with you, Sparhawk, I was a bit sceptical about what that thief in Esos said about this Sabre fellow, but he certainly has the attention of the nobles. He’s been making an issue of racial and religious differences between Elenes and Tamuls. Kotyk kept referring to the Tamuls as “godless yellow dogs”.’

‘We have Gods, your Grace,’ Oscagne protested mildly. ‘If you give me a few moments, I might even be able to remember some of their names.’

‘Our friend Sabre’s been busy,’ Tynian said. ‘He’s saying one thing to the nobles and another to the serfs.’

‘I think it’s called talking out of both sides of your face at once,’ Ulath noted.

‘I believe the empire might want to give the discovery of Sabre’s identity a certain priority,’ Oscagne mused. ‘It’s embarrassingly predictable, but we brutal oppressors and godless yellow dogs always want to identify ring-leaders and troublemakers.’

‘So that you can catch them and hang them?’ Talen accused.

‘Not necessarily, young man. When a natural talent rises to the surface, one shouldn’t waste it. I’m sure we can find a use for this fellow’s gifts.’

‘But he hates your empire, your Excellency,’ Ehlana pointed out.

‘That’s no real drawback, your Majesty,’ Oscagne smiled. ‘The fact that a man hates the empire doesn’t automatically make him a criminal. Anyone with any common sense hates the empire. There are days when even the emperor himself hates it. The presence of revolutionaries is a fair indication that something’s seriously wrong in a given province. The revolutionary’s made it his business to pinpoint the problems, so it’s easier in the long run to just let him go ahead and fix things. I’ve known quite a few revolutionaries who made very good provincial governors.’

‘That’s an interesting line of thought, your Excellency,’ Ehlana said, ‘but how do you persuade people who hate you to go to work for you?’

‘You trick them, your Majesty. You just ask them if they think they can do any better. They inevitably think they can, so you just tell them to have a go at it. It usually takes them a few months to realise that they’ve been had. Being a provincial governor is the worst job in the world. Everybody hates you.’

‘Where does this Ayachin fit in?’ Bevier asked.

‘I gather he’s the rallying point,’ Stragen replied. ‘Sort of the way Drychtnath is in Lamorkand.’

‘A figurehead?’ Tynian suggested.

‘Most probably. You wouldn’t really expect a ninthcentury hero to understand contemporary political reality.’

‘He’s sort of an enigma, though,’ Ulath pointed out. ‘The nobility believes he is one sort of man, and the serfs believe he’s another. Sabre must have two different sets of speeches. Just exactly who was Ayachin anyway?’

‘Kotyk told me that he was a minor nobleman who was very devoted to the Astellian Church,’ Emban supplied. ‘In the ninth century, there was a Church-inspired invasion from Eosia. Your thief in Esos was right about that part, at least. The Astels believe that our Holy Mother in Chyrellos is heretical. Ayachin’s supposed to have rallied the nobles and finally won a great victory in the Astel marshes.’

‘The serfs have a different story,’ Khalad told them. ‘They believe that Ayachin was a serf disguised as a nobleman and that his real goal was the emancipation of his class. They say that the victory in the marshes was the work of the serfs, not the nobility. Later, when the nobles found out who Ayachin really was, they had him murdered.’

‘He makes a perfect figurehead then,’ Ehlana said. ‘He was so ambiguous that he seems to offer something to everyone.’

Emban was frowning. ‘The mistreatment of the serfs doesn’t make any sense. Serfs aren’t very industrious, but there are so many of them that all you have to do is pile on more people until you get the job done. If you maltreat them, all you really do is encourage them to turn on you. Even an idiot knows that. Sparhawk, is there some spell that might have induced the nobility to follow a course that’s ultimately suicidal?’

‘None that I know of,’ Sparhawk replied. He looked around at the other knights, and they all shook their heads. Princess Danae nodded very slightly, however, indicating that there might very well be some way to do what Emban suggested. ‘I wouldn’t discount the possibility though, your Grace,’ he added. ‘Just because none of us know the spell doesn’t mean that there isn’t one. If someone wanted turmoil here in Astel, there’s probably nothing that would have suited his purposes better than a serf uprising, and if all the nobles started knouting their serfs at about the same time, it would have been a perfect way to set one off.’

‘And this Sabre fellow seems to be responsible,’ Emban said. ‘He’s stirring the nobles against the godless yellow dogs – sorry, Oscagne – and at the same time he’s agitating the serfs against their masters. Was anyone able to pick up anything about him?’

‘Elron was in his cups last night too,’ Stragen said. ‘He told Sparhawk and me that Sabre creeps around at night wearing a mask and making speeches.’

‘You’re not serious!’ Bevier asked incredulously.

‘Pathetic, isn’t it? We’re obviously dealing with a juvenile mind here. Elron’s quite overwhelmed by the melodrama of it all.’

‘He would be,’ Bevier sighed.

‘It does sort of sound like the fabrication of a third-rate literary fellow, doesn’t it?’ Stragen smiled.

‘That’s Elron, all right,’ Tynian said.

‘You’re flattering him,’ Ulath grunted. ‘He trapped me in a corner last night and recited some of his verse to me. “Third-rate” is a gross overstatement of his talent.’

Sparhawk was troubled. Aphrael had told him that someone at Kotyk’s house would say something important, but, aside from the revelation of some fairly unsavoury personality defects, no one had directly told him anything of earth-shaking note. When he thought about it Aphrael had not, in fact, promised that whatever was so important would be said to him. Quite possibly, it had been revealed to one of the others. He brooded about it. The simplest way to resolve the question would have been to ask his daughter, but to do that would once more expose him to some offensive comments about his limited understanding, so he decided that he’d much prefer to work it out for himself.