Chapters (45)
- Cover Page
- The Sapphire Rose
- Table of Contents
- Author’s Note:
- Prologue
- PART ONEThe Basilica
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- PART TWOThe Archprelate
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- PART THREEZemoch
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- The Sapphire Rose
- By David Eddings
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
Sparhawk heaved an inward sigh of relief. He did not much fancy another encounter with that flickering shadow nor the prospect of walking around for several days with the uneasy feeling that someone might be aiming a crossbow at him.
‘It’s peculiar that the news of the queen’s recovery hasn’t reached Annias yet,’ Dolmant observed. ‘At least he’s shown no signs of chagrin so far.’
‘I’d be very surprised if he’s heard of it yet, Your Grace,’ Komier rumbled. ‘Vanion sealed the city to keep the Cimmurans at home. As I understand it, people who try to leave are turned back quite firmly.’
‘You didn’t leave your Pandions there, did you, Vanion?’
‘No, Your Grace. We found assistance elsewhere. How’s the Archprelate?’
‘Dying,’ Emban replied. ‘Of course, he’s been dying for several years, but he’s a little more serious about it this time.’
‘Is Otha making any more moves, Your Grace?’ Darellon asked.
Dolmant shook his head. ‘He’s still encamped just inside the border of Lamorkand. He’s making all kinds of threats and demanding that the mysterious Zemoch treasure be returned to him.’
‘It’s not so mysterious, Dolmant,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘He wants Bhelliom, and he knows Sparhawk has it.’
‘Someone’s bound to suggest that Sparhawk turn it over to him in order to prevent an invasion,’ Emban suggested.
‘That will never happen, Your Grace,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll destroy it first.’
‘Have any of the Patriarchs who were in hiding returned as yet?’ Preceptor Abriel asked.
‘Not a one,’ Emban snorted. ‘They’re probably down the deepest ratholes they can find by now. Two of them had fatal accidents a couple of days ago, and the rest went to ground.’
‘We have knights scouring the city looking for them,’ Preceptor Darellon reported. ‘Even the most timid of rabbits might regain some degree of courage if they’re protected by Church Knights.’
‘Darellon,’ Dolmant said reproachfully.
‘Sorry, Your Grace,’ Darellon said perfunctorily.
‘Will that change the numbers?’ Komier asked Talen. ‘The two that died, I mean?’
‘No, My Lord,’ Talen said. ‘We weren’t counting them anyway.’
Dolmant looked puzzled.
‘The lad has a gift for figures,’ Komier explained. ‘He can compute things in his head faster than I can with a pencil.’
‘Sometimes you amaze me, Talen,’ Dolmant said. ‘Could I perhaps interest you in a career in the Church?’
‘Counting the contributions of the faithful, Your Grace?’ Talen asked eagerly.
‘Ah – no, I don’t think so, Talen.’
‘Have the votes changed at all, Your Grace?’ Abriel asked.
Dolmant shook his head. ‘Annias still has a simple majority. He can bull through anything that isn’t a matter of substance. His toadies are calling for votes on just about anything that comes up. He wants to keep a running count for one thing, and the voting keeps us all locked in the audience chamber.’