The novice approached at a half-run. He was wearing an old mail shirt splashed with blood and a dented foot soldier’s helmet with no visor. He carried a grim, long-handled battle-axe.
Sparhawk looked closely at the blood on the rangy youth’s mail shirt. ‘Is any of that yours?’ he asked.
‘No, my Lord,’ Berit answered. ‘All theirs.’ He looked pointedly at the mercenary dead littering the field.
‘Good. What’s your feeling about a long ride?’
‘As my Lord commands.’
‘He’s got good manners, at least,’ Kalten observed. ‘Berit,’ he said then, ‘ask “Where?” before you agree so quickly.’
‘I’ll remember that, my Lord Kalten.’
‘I want you to come with me,’ Sparhawk said to the novice. ‘We need to talk with Count Radun before you leave.’ He turned to Kalten. ‘Get a group of men to chase Adus,’ he said. ‘Push him hard. I don’t want him to have time to send one of his people to Cimmura to report all of this to Annias. Tell the rest of the men to bury our dead and care for the wounded.’
‘What about these?’ Kalten pointed at the dead bodies of the mercenaries heaped in front of the castle walls.
‘Burn them.’
Count Radun met Sparhawk and Berit in the courtyard of his castle. He was wearing full armour and held his sword in his hand. ‘I see that the reputation of the Pandions is well deserved,’ he said.
‘Thank you, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I have a favour – no, two favours – to ask of you.’
‘Anything, Sir Sparhawk.’
‘Are you known to any members of the Hierocracy in Chyrellos?’
‘Several, actually, and the Patriarch of Larium is a distant cousin of mine.’
‘Very good. I know it’s a bad season for travel, but I’d like you to join me in a little ride.’
‘Of course. Where are we going?’
‘To Chyrellos. The next favour is a bit more personal. I’ll need your signet ring.’
‘My ring?’ The count lifted his hand and looked at the heavy gold ring bearing his coat of arms.
Sparhawk nodded. ‘And worse yet, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to return it.’
‘I’m not sure that I understand.’
‘Berit here is going to take the ring to Cimmura and drop it in the collection plate during service in the cathedral there. The Primate Annias will take that to mean that his scheme has succeeded and that you and your family have all been murdered. He will then rush to Chyrellos to lay charges against the Pandions before the Hierocracy.’
Count Radun grinned broadly. ‘But then you and I will step forward and refute those charges, right?’
Sparhawk grinned back. ‘Exactly,’ he said.
‘That might cause the primate a certain amount of embarrassment,’ the count said as he tugged the ring off his finger.
‘That was sort of what we had in mind, my Lord.’
‘The ring is well lost, then,’ Radun said, handing his signet to Berit.
‘All right,’ Sparhawk said to the young novice. ‘Don’t kill any horses on your way to Cimmura. Give us time to get to Chyrellos before Annias does.’ He squinted thoughtfully. ‘Morning service, I think.’
‘My Lord?’
‘Drop the count’s ring in the collection plate during morning service. Let’s give Annias a whole day to gloat before he starts out for Chyrellos. Wear ordinary clothes when you go into the cathedral and pray a bit – just to make it look convincing. Don’t go near the chapterhouse or the inn on Rose Street.’ He looked at the young novice, feeling a renewed pang at the loss of Sir Parasim. ‘I can’t assure you that your life won’t be in danger, Berit,’ he said soberly, ‘so I can’t order you to do this.’
‘There’s no need to order me to do it, my Lord Sparhawk,’ Berit replied.
‘Good man,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Now go and get your horse. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you.’
It was nearly noon when Sparhawk and Count Radun emerged from the castle. ‘How long do you think it’s going to take for Primate Annias to reach Chyrellos?’ the count asked.
‘Two weeks at least. Berit has to get to Cimmura before Annias can even start for Chyrellos.’
Kurik came riding up to them. ‘Everything’s ready,’ he told Sparhawk.
Sparhawk nodded. ‘You’d better go and get Sephrenia,’ he said.
‘Is that really a good idea, Sparhawk? Things might get a little chancy when we get to Chyrellos.’
‘Do you want to be the one to tell her that she has to stay behind?’
Kurik winced. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said.
‘Where’s Kalten?’
‘Over there at the edge of the woods. He’s building a bonfire for some reason.’
‘Maybe he’s cold.’
The winter sun was very bright in the cold blue sky as Sparhawk and his party set out. ‘Surely, madame,’ Count Radun objected to Sephrenia, ‘the child would have been quite safe within the walls of my castle.’
‘She would not have stayed there, my Lord,’ Sephrenia replied in a small voice. She laid her cheek against Flute’s hair. ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘I take great comfort in having her with me.’ Her voice sounded weak somehow, and she looked very pale and tired. In one hand she carried Sir Parasim’s sword.
Sparhawk pulled Faran in beside her white palfrey. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her quietly.
‘Not really,’ she answered.
‘What’s the matter?’ He felt a sudden alarm.
‘Parasim was one of the twelve knights in the throne room in Cimmura.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve just been obliged to shoulder his burden as well as my own.’ She gestured slightly with the sword.
‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘Not in the way that you mean, no. It’s just that it’s going to take a little while to adjust to the additional weight.’
