‘Patriotism, Platime?’ Kalten asked.
‘Just because I’m a thief and a murderer doesn’t mean that I’m disloyal. I respect the crown as much as any man in the kingdom. I even respected Aldreas, weak as he was.’ Platime’s eyes grew sly. ‘Did his sister ever really seduce him?’ he asked. ‘There were all kinds of rumours.’
Sparhawk shrugged. ‘That’s sort of hard to say.’
‘She went absolutely wild after your father forced Aldreas to marry Queen Ehlana’s mother, you know.’ Platime sniggered. ‘She was totally convinced that she was going to marry her brother and get control of the throne.’
‘Isn’t that sort of illegal?’ Kalten asked.
‘Annias said that he’d found a way around the law. Anyway, after Aldreas got married, Arissa ran away from the palace. They found her a few weeks later in that cheap brothel over by the river. Just about everybody in Cimmura had tried her before they dragged her out of the place.’ He squinted at them. ‘What did they finally do with her anyway? Chop off her head?’
‘No,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘She’s cloistered in the nunnery at Demos. They’re very strict there.’
‘At least she’s getting some rest. From what I hear, the Princess Arissa was a very busy young woman.’ He straightened and pointed at a nearby cot. ‘You can use that one,’ he told Sparhawk. ‘I’ve got every thief and beggar in Cimmura out looking for this Krager fellow of yours. If he sets foot in the streets, we’ll know about it within an hour. In the meantime, you might as well get some sleep.’
Sparhawk nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Kalten.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Do you need anything?’
‘How about some beer – just to restore all the blood I lost, of course.’
It was impossible to tell what time it was since the cellar had no windows. Sparhawk felt a light touch and came awake immediately, catching the hand that had touched him.
The grubby-looking boy, Talen, made a sour face. ‘Never try to pick a pocket when you’re shivering,’ he said. He mopped the rain out of his face. ‘It’s really a miserable morning out there,’ he added.
‘Were you looking for anything in particular in my pockets?’
‘No, not really – just anything that might turn up.’
‘Would you like to give me back my friend’s ring?’
‘Oh, I suppose so. I only took it to keep in practice anyway.’ Talen reached inside the wet tunic and drew out Kalten’s ring. ‘I cleaned the blood off it for him,’ he said, admiring it.
‘He’ll appreciate that.’
‘Oh, by the way, I found that fellow you were looking for.’
‘Krager? Where?’
‘He’s staying in a brothel in Lion Street.’
‘A brothel?’
‘Maybe he needs affection.’
Sparhawk sat up. He touched his horsehair beard to make sure it was still in place. ‘Let’s go talk to Platime.’
‘Do you want me to wake your friend?’
‘Let him sleep. I’m not going to take him out in the rain in his condition anyway.’
Platime was snoring in his chair, but his eyes opened instantly when Talen touched his shoulder.
‘The boy found Krager,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘You’re going after him, I suppose?’
Sparhawk nodded.
‘Do you think the primate’s soldiers are still looking for you?’
‘Probably.’
‘And they know what you look like?’
‘Yes.’
‘You won’t get very far then.’
‘I’ll have to chance it.’
‘Platime,’ Talen said.
‘What?’
‘Do you remember that time when we had to get Weasel out of town in a hurry?’
Platime grunted, scratching at his paunch and looking speculatively at Sparhawk. ‘How much are you attached to that beard?’ he asked.
‘Not too much. Why?’
‘If you’d be willing to shave it off, I know a way you might be able to move around Cimmura without being recognized.’
Sparhawk began pulling off chunks of the false beard.
Platime laughed. ‘You really aren’t attached to it, are you?’ He looked at Talen. ‘Go and get what he’ll need out of the bin.’
Talen went to a large wooden box in the corner of the cellar and started rummaging around inside as Sparhawk finished removing the beard. When the boy came back, he was carrying a ragged-looking cloak and a pair of shoes that were little more than rotting leather bags.
‘How much of the rest of your face will come off?’ Platime asked.
Sparhawk took the ragged cloak from Talen and poured some of Platime’s wine on one corner. Then he vigorously scrubbed his face, removing the remnants of Sephrenia’s glue and the purple scar.
‘The nose?’ Platime asked.
‘No. That’s real.’
