‘We’re due for some,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘What did you find?’

‘How would you like to know the exact day and hour when this “Hidden City” business is going to come to a head?’

‘I’d be moderately interested in that, yes. That self-congratulatory expression spread all over your face says that you’ve found out a few things.’

‘I have indeed, Sparhawk, and it fell into my hand like an over-ripe peach.’ Caalador slid into his drawl. ‘Them there fellers on t’ other side’s mighty careless with wrote-down instructions. It seems that this yere cut-purse o’ my acquaintance – enterprisin’ young feller with a real shorp knife – he slit open the purse o’ this yere fat Dacite merchant, an’ a hull fistful o’ coins come slitherin’ out, an’ mixt in with them there silver an’ brass coins they wuz this yere message, which it wuz ez hed bin passt onta him by one o’ his feller-conspiracy-ers.’ Caalador frowned. ‘Maybe the right word there would have been “conspirytors”,’ he mused.

‘Ehlana’s still in bed, Caalador,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘You don’t have to entertain me with that dialect.’

‘Sorry. Just keeping in practice. Anyway, the note was quite specific. It said, “The day of the revelation of the Hidden City is at hand. All is in readiness. We will come to your warehouse for the arms at the second hour past sunset ten days hence.” Isn’t that interesting?’

‘It is indeed, Caalador, but the note could be a week old.’

‘No, actually it’s not. Would you believe that the idiot who wrote it actually dated it?’

‘You’re not serious.’

‘May muh tongue turn green if I ain’t.’

‘Can your cut-purse identify this Dacite merchant? I’d like to locate this warehouse and find out what kind of arms are stored there.’

‘I’m way ahead of you, Sparhawk,’ Caalador grinned. ‘We tracked down the Dacite, and I called on my vast experience as a chicken-rustler to get inside his storehouse.’ He opened the large bag he had brought with him and took out what appeared to be a newly-made crossbow. ‘They wuz several hunnerd o’ these in that there hen-roost o’ his’n,’ he said, ‘along with a hull passel o’ cheap swords – which wuz most likely forged in Lebros in Cammoria – which it is that’s notorious fer makin’ shoddy goods fer trade with backward folk.’

Sparhawk turned the crossbow over in his hands. ‘It’s not really very well-made, is it?’ he noted.

‘She’ll prob’ly shoot, though – oncet anyway.’

‘This explains that tree Khalad found with all the crossbow bolts stuck in it. It looks as if we’ve been anticipated. Our friend out there wouldn’t really need crossbows unless he knew he was going to come up against men in armour. The long-bow’s a lot more efficient against ordinary people. It shoots faster.’

‘I think we’d better face up to something, Sparhawk,’ Caalador said gravely. ‘Several hundred crossbows means several hundred conspirators, not counting the ones who’ll be using the swords, and that’s fair evidence that the conspiracy’s going to involve unpleasantness here in Matherion itself as well as out there in the hinterlands. I think we’d better be prepared for a mob – and for fighting in the streets.’

‘You could very well be right, my friend. Let’s see what we can do to defang that mob.’

He went to the door and opened it. As usual, Mirtai sat outside with her sword in her lap. ‘Could you get Khalad for me, Atana?’ he asked politely.

‘Who’s going to guard the door while I’m gone?’ she asked him.

‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘Why don’t you go get him? I’ll stay here and see to Ehlana’s safety.’

He sighed. ‘Please, Mirtai–as a special favour to me.’

‘If anything happens to Ehlana while I’m gone, you’ll answer to me, Sparhawk.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Pretty girl, isn’t she?’ Caalador noted after the giantess had gone in search of Sparhawk’s squire.

‘I wouldn’t make a point of noticing that too much when Kring’s around, my friend. They’re betrothed, and he’s the jealous type.’

‘Should I say that she’s ugly, then?’

‘That wouldn’t really be a good idea either. If you do that she’ll probably kill you.’

‘Touchy, aren’t they?’

‘Oh, yes – both of them. Theirs promises to be a very lively marriage.’

Mirtai returned with Khalad a few minutes later. ‘You sent for me, my Lord?’ Kurik’s son asked.

‘How would you go about disabling this crossbow without making it obvious that it had been tampered with?’ Sparhawk asked, handing the young man the weapon Caalador had brought with him.

Khalad examined the weapon. ‘Cut the string almost all the way through – up here where it’s attached to the end of the bow,’ he suggested. ‘It’ll break as soon as anyone tries to draw it.’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘They might load the weapons in advance,’ he said. ‘Someone’s going to try to use these on us, I think, and I don’t want him to find out that they don’t work until it’s too late.’

‘I could break the trigger-mechanism,’ Khalad said. ‘The bowman could draw it and load it, but he couldn’t shoot it – at least he couldn’t aim it at the same time.’

‘Would it stay cocked until he tried to shoot it?’

‘Probably. This isn’t a very well-made crossbow, so he won’t expect it to work very well. All you’d have to do is drive out this pin that holds the trigger in place and stick short steel pegs in the holes to hide the fact that the pin’s gone. There’s a spring that holds the bow drawn, but without the pin to provide leverage, the trigger won’t release that spring. They’ll be able to draw it, but they won’t be able to shoot it.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. How long would it take you to put this thing out of action?’

‘A couple of minutes.’

‘You’ve got a few long nights ahead of you then, my friend. There are several hundred of these to deal with – and you’re going to have to do it quietly and in poor light. Caalador, can you slip my friend here into the Dacite merchant’s warehouse?’