Emban returned to the lectern as Sparhawk and Mirtai went back up into the gallery to rejoin their friends. ‘My brothers,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that Queen Ehlana is recovering. She’s asked me to apologize for anything she may have said during her remarks. The queen’s health is still not good, I’m afraid, and she journeyed here to Chyrellos at great personal risk, so firm was her resolve to be present for our deliberations.’

They murmured their admiration for such devotion.

‘It were best, I think,’ Emban continued, ‘if we were not to question Her Majesty too closely concerning the content of her remarks. It appears that she has no memory of her speech. This can be quite easily explained by her weakened condition. There is perhaps another explanation as well, but I think wisdom and consideration for Her Majesty dictates to us that we not pursue it.’ Of such stuff legends are made.

And then there was a brassy fanfare of trumpets, and the door to the left side of the throne swung open. Dolmant, flanked by Ortzel and Bergsten, entered. The new Archprelate wore a plain white cassock, and his face was calm now. Sparhawk was struck by an odd notion. There were marked similarities between Dolmant’s white cassock and Sephrenia’s white robe. The thought led him to the brink of a speculation that might just have been mildly heretical.

The two Patriarchs, the one from Lamorkand and the other from Thalesia, escorted Dolmant to the throne, which had been unshrouded during their absence, and the Archprelate took his seat.

‘And will Sarathi address us?’ Emban said, stepping from behind the lectern and genuflecting.

‘Sarathi?’ Talen whispered to Berit.

‘It’s a very old name,’ Berit explained quietly. ‘When the Church was finally unified almost three thousand years ago, the very first Archprelate was named Sarathi. His name is remembered – and honoured – by addressing the Archprelate this way.’