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‘Behave yourself,’ Sparhawk whispered to her. ‘He’s a good man and he’s doing what he thinks is right.’
She rolled her eyes roguishly. Then she yawned, snuggling closer to him, and promptly went to sleep.
They rode south out of Borrata under a clear morning sky with Kurik and the two-wheeled cart containing their armour and equipment clattering along behind them. The breeze was gusty and it tugged at the ragged clothing of the pilgrims patiently plodding along behind their vicar. A line of low mountains lay to the west, touched with snow on their peaks, and the sunlight glistened on those white fields. Their pace as they rode seemed to Sparhawk leisurely – even lackadaisical – though the panting and wheezing of the poor mounts of the pilgrims was a fair indication that the beasts were being pressed as hard as was possible.
It was about noon when Kalten rode forward from his station at the rear of the column. ‘There are riders coming up behind us,’ he reported quietly to avoid alarming nearby pilgrims. ‘They’re pushing hard.’
‘Any idea of who they are?’
‘They’re wearing red.’
‘Church soldiers, then.’
‘Notice how quick he is?’ Kalten observed to the others.
‘How many?’ Tynian asked.
‘It looks like a reinforced platoon.’
Bevier loosened his Lochaber axe in its sling.
‘Keep that under cover,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘The rest of you hide your weapons as well.’ Then he raised his voice. ‘Good vicar,’ he called ahead. ‘How about a hymn? The miles go easier with sacred music for company.’
The vicar cleared his throat and began to sing in a rusty, off-key voice. Wearily, but responding automatically to their pastor’s lead, the other pilgrims joined in.
‘Sing!’ Sparhawk commanded his companions, and they all raised their voices in the familiar hymn. As they bawled their song, Flute lifted her pipes and played a mocking little counterpoint.
‘Stop that,’ Sparhawk murmured to her. ‘And if there’s trouble, slide down and run out into that field.’
She rolled her eyes at him.
‘Do as you’re told, young lady. I don’t want you getting trampled if there’s a fight.’
The church soldiers, however, pounded past the column of hymn-singing pilgrims with hardly a glance and were soon lost in the distance ahead.
‘Tense,’ Ulath commented.
‘Truly,’ Tynian agreed. ‘Trying to fight in the middle of a crowd of terrified pilgrims might have been interesting.’
‘Do you think they were searching for us?’ Berit asked.
‘It’s hard to say,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I wasn’t going to stop them to ask, though.’
They moved southward towards Madel in easy stages to conserve the sorry mounts of the vicar’s parishioners, and they arrived on the outskirts of the port city about noon on the fourth day out of Borrata. When the town came into view, Sparhawk rode forward to join the vicar at the head of the column. He handed the good man a pouch full of coins. ‘We’ll be leaving you here,’ he said. ‘A matter has come up that needs our attention.’
The vicar gave him a speculative look. ‘This was all subterfuge, wasn’t it, my Lord?’ he asked gravely. ‘I may be only the poor pastor of a poverty-stricken chapel, but I recognize the manner and bearing of Church Knights when I see them.’
‘Forgive us, good vicar,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Take your people to the holy places here in Madel. Lead them in prayer and then see to it that they’re well fed. Then return to Borrata and use whatever money is left as you see fit.’
‘And may I do this with a clear conscience, my son?’
‘The clearest, good pastor. My friends and I serve the Church in a matter of gravest urgency, and your aid will be appreciated by the members of the Hierocracy in Chyrellos – most of them, at any rate.’ Then Sparhawk turned Faran around and rode back to his companions. ‘All right, Bevier,’ he said. ‘Take us to your chapterhouse.’
‘I have been considering that, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier replied. ‘Our chapterhouse here is closely watched by local authorities and all manner of other folk. Even garbed as we are, we would surely be recognized.’
Sparhawk grunted. ‘You’re probably right. Can you think of any alternatives?’
‘Perhaps so. As it happens, I have a kinsman – a marquis from eastern Arcium – who has a villa on the outskirts of the city. I have not seen him for some years – our family disapproved of him because he’s in trade – but perhaps he will remember me. He’s a good-natured fellow, and if I approach him right, he might extend his hospitality.’
‘It’s worth a try, I guess. All right. Lead the way.’
They rode around the western outskirts of Madel to an opulent house surrounded by a low wall built of the local sandstone. The house was set back some distance from the road and was surrounded by tall evergreens and well-groomed lawns. There was a gravelled court directly in front of the house, and they dismounted there. A servant in sober livery emerged from the house and approached inquiringly.
‘Would you be so good as to advise the marquis that his second cousin, Sir Bevier, and several friends would like to have a word with him?’ the Cyrinic inquired politely.
‘At once, my Lord.’ The servant turned and re-entered the house.
The man who emerged from the house a few moments later was stout and had a florid face. He wore one of the colourful silk robes common in southern Cammoria rather than Arcian doublet and hose, and his welcoming grin was broad. ‘Bevier,’ he greeted his distant cousin with a warm handclasp. ‘What are you doing in Cammoria?’
‘Seeking refuge, Lycien,’ Bevier replied. His open young face clouded momentarily. ‘The family has not treated you well, Lycien,’ he admitted. ‘I could not blame you if you turned me and my friends away.’
‘Nonsense, Bevier. The decision to take up trading was mine. I knew how the rest of the family would feel about it. I’m delighted to see you. You mentioned refuge?’
Bevier nodded. ‘We’re here on Church business of some delicacy,’ he said, ‘and there are a few too many eyes watching the Cyrinic chapterhouse in the city. I know it’s a great deal to ask, but might we impose on your hospitality?’
‘By all means, my boy, by all means.’ Marquis Lycien clapped his hands sharply, and several grooms came out of the stables. ‘See to the mounts of these visitors and their cart,’ the marquis ordered. Then he laid his hand on Bevier’s shoulder. ‘Come in,’ he invited them all. ‘My house is yours.’ He turned and led the way through the low, arched doorway and on into the house. Once they were inside, they followed him to a pleasant room with low, cushioned furniture and a fireplace where several logs crackled and snapped. ‘Please, friends, sit,’ Lycien said. Then he looked speculatively at them. ‘This Church business of yours must be very important, Bevier,’ he guessed. ‘Judging from their features, I’d say that your friends represent all four of the militant orders.’
‘Your eyes are sharp, Marquis,’ Sparhawk told him.
‘Am I going to get in trouble over this?’ Lycien asked. Then he grinned. ‘Not that I care, mind you. It’s just that I like to be prepared.’
‘It’s not too likely,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘Particularly if we’re successful in our mission. Tell me, my Lord, do you have contacts in the harbour?’
‘Extensive ones, Sir –’
‘Sparhawk,’ the Pandion supplied.
‘Champion of the Queen of Elenia?’ Lycien looked surprised. ‘I heard that you’d returned from your exile in Rendor; but aren’t you a bit far afield? Shouldn’t you be in Cimmura trying to circumvent the attempts of the Primate Annias to depose your lady?’
‘You’re well informed, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said.
‘I have widespread commercial contacts.’ Lycien shrugged. He winked at Bevier. ‘That’s what disgraced me in the eyes of the family. My agent and the masters of my ships gather much information in the course of their dealings.’
‘I gather, my Lord, that you’re not overly fond of the Primate of Cimmura?’
‘The man’s a scoundrel.’
‘Our sentiments exactly,’ Kalten agreed.
‘Very well, then, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘What we’re involved with is an attempt to counter the growing power of the primate. If we’re successful, we can stop him in his tracks. I’d tell you more, but it might be dangerous for you if you knew too many of the details.’
‘I can appreciate that, Sir Sparhawk,’ Lycien said. ‘Tell me, in what way can I help?’
‘Three of us need to go to Cippria,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘For the sake of your own safety, it might be better if we were to take the ship of an independent sea captain rather than one of your own vessels. If you could direct us to such a captain and perhaps give us a discreetly worded letter of introduction to him, we can take care of the rest.’
‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik said sharply, looking around the room, ‘what happened to Talen?’
Sparhawk turned quickly. ‘I thought he was bringing up the rear when we came in.’
‘So did I.’
‘Berit,’ Sparhawk said, ‘go and find him.’
‘At once, my Lord.’ The novice hurried from the room.
‘Some problem?’ Lycien asked.
‘A wayward boy, cousin,’ Bevier told him. ‘From what I gather, he needs to be watched rather closely.’
‘Berit will find him.’ Kalten laughed. ‘I have a great deal of confidence in that young man. Talen may come back with a few bumps and contusions, but I’m sure they’ll be very educational for him.’
‘Well, if it’s all under control, then,’ Lycien said, ‘why don’t I send word to the kitchen? I’m sure you’re hungry. And in the meantime, perhaps some wine?’ He assumed a pious expression that was obviously feigned. ‘I know that the Knights of the Church are abstemious, but a touch or so of wine is good for the digestion, or so I’ve heard.’
‘I’ve heard that, too,’ Kalten agreed.
‘Could I prevail upon you for a cup of tea, my Lord?’ Sephrenia asked. ‘And some milk for the little girl? I’m not sure that wine would be good for either of us.’
‘Of course, madame,’ Lycien replied jovially. ‘I should have thought of that myself.’
It was midafternoon when Berit returned with Talen in tow. ‘He was down near the harbour,’ the novice reported, still firmly holding the boy by the neck of his tunic. ‘I searched him thoroughly. He hadn’t had time to steal anything.’
‘I just wanted to look at the sea,’ the boy protested. ‘I’ve never seen the sea before.’
Kurik was grimly removing his wide leather belt.
‘Now, wait a minute, Kurik,’ Talen said, struggling to free himself from Berit’s grasp. ‘You wouldn’t really do that, would you?’
‘Watch me.’
‘I picked up some information,’ Talen said quickly. ‘If you thrash me, I’ll keep it to myself.’ He looked appealingly at Sparhawk. ‘It’s important,’ he said. ‘Tell him to put his belt back on and I’ll let you know what I found out.’
‘All right, Kurik,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let it pass – for the moment anyway.’ Then he looked sternly at the boy. ‘This had better be good, Talen,’ he threatened.
‘It is, Sparhawk. Believe me.’
‘Let’s have it.’
‘Well, I was going down this street. As I said, I wanted to see the harbour and all the ships and things. Anyway, I was passing a wine shop and I saw a man coming out.’
‘Amazing,’ Kalten said. ‘Do people in Madel actually frequent wine shops?’
‘You both know this man. It was Krager, the one you had me watching in Cimmura. I followed him. He went into a shabby-looking inn down by the waterfront. I can take you there if you want.’
‘Put your belt back on, Kurik,’ Sparhawk said.
‘Do we have time for this?’ Kalten asked.
‘I think we should make time. Martel’s already tried to interfere with us a couple of times. If it was Annias who poisoned Ehlana, he’ll definitely want to keep us from finding any kind of antidote. That means that Martel will try to get to Cippria before I do. We can wring that information out of Krager if we can catch him.’
‘We’ll go with you,’ Tynian said eagerly. ‘This whole thing will be easier if we can cut Annias’ hands off here in Madel.’
Sparhawk considered it, then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Martel and his hirelings know Kalten and me. He doesn’t know the rest of you. If the two of us can’t catch up with Krager, you’ll all be looking around Madel for him. That’s going to be easier if he doesn’t know what you look like.’
‘Makes sense,’ Ulath agreed.
Tynian looked profoundly disappointed. ‘Sometimes you think too much, Sparhawk,’ he said.
‘It’s a trait of his,’ Kalten told him.
‘Will these cloaks of ours attract any attention in the streets of Madel, my Lord?’ Sparhawk asked the marquis.
Lycien shook his head. ‘It’s a port city,’ he said. ‘There are people here from all over the world, so two more strangers won’t attract that much notice.’
‘Good,’ Sparhawk said. He started towards the door with Kalten and Talen at his heels. ‘We should be back before long,’ he said.
They left their horses behind and went into the city on foot. Madel was situated on an estuary, and the smell of the sea was very strong, carried inland by a stiff onshore breeze. The streets were narrow and crooked and grew increasingly run-down as the two knights and the boy approached the harbour.
‘How far is this inn?’ Kalten asked.
‘Not too much farther,’ Talen assured him.
Sparhawk stopped. ‘Did you get the chance to look around a bit after Krager went inside?’ he asked the boy.
‘No. I was going to, but Berit caught me before I had time.’
‘Why don’t you do it now? If Kalten and I go marching up to the front door and Krager happens to be watching, he’ll be out the back door before we get inside. See if you can find that back door for us.’
‘Right,’ Talen said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He scurried off down the street.
‘Good lad there,’ Kalten said, ‘in spite of his bad habits.’ He frowned. ‘How do you know this inn has a back door?’ he asked.
‘Every inn has a back door, Kalten – in case of fire if nothing else.’
‘I guess I hadn’t thought of that.’
When Talen returned, he was running as hard as he could. There were about ten men chasing him; in the lead, roaring unintelligibly, was Adus.
‘Look out!’ Talen shouted as he ran past.
