‘Good. Turn around.’
‘My Lord?’
‘I want to measure you.’
Berit looked puzzled, but he did as he was told. Sparhawk measured him across the shoulders with his hands. Although he looked bony, Berit was actually a husky youth. ‘You’ll do fine,’ Sparhawk told him.
Berit turned, baffled.
‘You’re going to be making a trip,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Gather up what you’ll need while I go get the man who’s going to go with you.’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Berit replied, bowing respectfully.
Sparhawk took hold of the saddlebow and hauled himself up onto Faran’s back. Berit handed him the reins, and Sparhawk nudged the big roan into a walk. They crossed the courtyard, and Sparhawk responded to the salutes of the knights at the gate. Then he rode on across the drawbridge and through the east gate of the city.
The streets of Cimmura were busy now. Workmen carrying large bundles wrapped in mud-coloured burlap grunted their way through the narrow lanes, and merchants dressed in conventional blue stood in the doorways of their shops with their brightly coloured wares piled around them. An occasional wagon clattered along the cobblestones. Near the intersection of two narrow streets, a squad of church soldiers in their scarlet livery marched with a certain arrogant precision. Sparhawk did not give way to them, but instead bore down on them at a steady trot. Grudgingly, they separated and stood aside as he passed. ‘Thank you, neighbours,’ Sparhawk said pleasantly.
They did not answer him.
He reined Faran in. ‘I said, thank you, neighbours.’
‘You’re welcome,’ one of them replied sullenly.
Sparhawk waited.
‘… My Lord,’ the soldier added grudgingly.
‘Much better, friend.’ Sparhawk rode on.
The gate to the inn was closed, and Sparhawk leaned over and banged on its timbers with his gauntleted fist. The porter who swung it open for him was not the same knight who had admitted him the evening before. Sparhawk swung down from Faran’s back and handed him the reins.
‘Will you be needing him again, my Lord?’ the knight asked.
‘Yes. I’ll be going right back out. Would you saddle my squire’s horse, Sir Knight?’
‘Of course, my Lord.’
‘I appreciate that.’ Sparhawk laid one hand on Faran’s neck. ‘Behave yourself,’ he said.
Faran looked away, his expression lofty.
Sparhawk clinked up the stairs and rapped on the door of the room at the top.
Kurik opened the door for him. ‘Well? How did it go?’
‘Not bad.’
‘You came out alive, anyway. Did you see the Queen?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s surprising.’
‘I sort of insisted. Do you want to get your things together? You’re going back to Demos.’
‘You didn’t say “we”, Sparhawk.’
‘I’m staying here.’
‘I suppose there are good reasons.’
‘Lycheas has ordered me back to the motherhouse. I more or less plan to ignore him, but I want to be able to move around Cimmura without being followed. There’s a young novice at the chapterhouse who’s about my size. We’ll put him in my armour and mount him on Faran. Then the two of you can ride to Demos with a grand show of obedience. As long as he keeps his visor down, the primate’s spies will think I’m obeying orders.’
‘It’s workable, I suppose. I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone, though.’
‘I won’t be alone. Kalten’s coming in either today or tomorrow.’
‘That’s a little better. Kalten’s steady.’ Kurik frowned. ‘I thought that he’d been exiled to Lamorkand. Who ordered him back?’
‘Vanion didn’t say, but you know Kalten. Maybe he just got bored with Lamorkand and took independent action.’
‘How long do you want me to stay at Demos?’ Kurik asked as he began to gather up his things.
‘A month or so at least. The road’s likely to be watched. I’ll get word to you. Do you need any money?’
‘I always need money, Sparhawk.’
‘There’s some in the pocket of that tunic.’ Sparhawk pointed at his travel clothes draped across the back of a chair. ‘Take what you need.’
Kurik grinned at him.
‘Leave me a little, though.’
‘Of course, my Lord,’ Kurik said with a mocking bow. ‘Do you want me to pack up your things?’
‘No. I’ll be coming back here when Kalten arrives. It’s a little hard to get in and out of the chapterhouse without being seen. Is the back door to that tavern still open?’
‘It was yesterday. I drop in there from time to time.’
‘I thought you might.’
‘A man needs a few vices, Sparhawk. It gives him something to repent when he goes to chapel.’
‘If Aslade hears that you’ve been drinking, she’ll set fire to your beard.’
‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t hear about it, won’t we, my Lord?’
‘Why do I always get mixed up in your domestic affairs?’
