‘You have warriors among you, reverend Patriarchs,’ Ehlana was saying, ‘men of steel and valour, but could an armoured Archprelate match the guile of Azash? You have theologians among you, My Lords of the Church, men of such towering intellect that they can perceive the mind and intent of God Himself, but would such a man, attuned to the voice of Divine Truth, be prepared to counter the Master of Lies? There are those versed in Church Law and those who are masters of Church politics. There are those who are strong, and those who are brave. There are those who are gentle, and those who are compassionate. If we could but choose the entire Hierocracy itself to lead us, we would be invincible, and the gates of Hell could not prevail against us!’ Ehlana swayed, raising one trembling hand to her brow. ‘Forgive me, gentlemen,’ she said in a weak voice. ‘The effects of the poison with which the serpent Annias sought to steal away my life do linger yet.’

Sparhawk half-started to his feet.

‘Oh, do sit down, Sparhawk,’ Stragen told him. ‘You’ll spoil her performance if you go clanking down there right now. Believe me, she’s perfectly fine.’

‘Our holy mother needs a champion, my Lords of the Church,’ Ehlana continued in a weary voice, ‘a man who is the distillation and essence of the Hierocracy itself, and I think that in your hearts you all know who that man is. May God give you the wisdom, the enlightenment, to turn to the one who even now is in your very midst, shrouded with true humility, but who extends his gentle hand to guide you, perhaps not even knowing that he does so, for this self-effacing Patriarch perhaps does not even know himself that he speaks with the Voice of God. Seek him in your hearts, My Lords of the Church, and lay this burden upon him, for only he can be our champion!’ She swayed again, and her knees began to buckle. Then she wilted like a flower. King Wargun, his face awed and his eyes full of tears, leapt to his feet and caught her even as she fell.

‘The perfect touch,’ Stragen said admiringly. He grinned. ‘Poor, poor Sparhawk,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got a chance, you know.’

‘Stragen, will you shut up?’

‘What was that really all about?’ Kalten asked in a baffled tone.

‘She just appointed an Archprelate, Sir Kalten,’ Stragen told him.

‘Who? She didn’t mention a single name.’

‘Isn’t it clear to you yet? She very carefully eliminated all the other contenders. There’s only one possibility left. The other Patriarchs all know who he is, and they’ll elect him – just as soon as one of them dares to mention his name. I’d tell you myself, but I don’t want to spoil it for you.’