‘Every woman’s entitled to wear gold, Mirtai,’ Melidere laughed, ‘provided that she can charm it out of some man.’

‘Not among my people,’ Mirtai disagreed. ‘Gold is for adults. Children don’t wear it.’

‘You’re hardly a child, Mirtai,’

‘I am until I go through a certain ceremony. Silver, Melidere – or steel.’

‘You can’t make jewellery out of steel.’

‘You can if you polish it enough.’

Melidere sighed. ‘Fetch me the silver chains, Talen,’ she said. At the moment, that was Talen’s function. He fetched things. He didn’t like it very much, but he did it – largely because Mirtai was bigger than he was.

There was a polite knock at the door, and Talen veered over to answer it.

Ambassador Oscagne entered. He bowed to Ehlana. ‘I’ve spoken with Fontan, your Majesty,’ he reported. ‘He’s sending to the garrison at Canae for two Atan legions to escort us to Matherion. I’m sure we’ll all feel more secure with them around us.’

‘What’s a legion, your Excellency?’ Talen asked, crossing the room to the jewellery cabinet.

‘A thousand warriors,’ Oscagne replied. He smiled at Ehlana. ‘With two thousand Atans at your disposal, your Majesty could conquer Edom. Would you like to establish a toe-hold on the Daresian continent? It won’t really be all that inconvenient. We Tamuls will administer it for you – for the usual fee, of course – and we’ll send you glowing reports at the end of each year. The reports will be a tissue of lies, but we’ll send them anyway.’

‘Along with the profits?’ She actually sounded interested.

‘Oh no, your Majesty,’ he laughed. ‘For some reason, not one single kingdom in the whole empire ever shows a profit – except Tamul itself, of course.’

‘Why would I want a kingdom that doesn’t pay?’

‘Prestige, your Majesty, and vanity. You’d have another title and another crown.’

‘I don’t really need another crown, your Excellency. I’ve only got one head. Why don’t we just let the King of Edom keep his unprofitable kingdom?’

‘Probably a wise decision, your Majesty,’ he agreed. ‘Edom’s a tedious sort of place. They grow wheat there, and wheat-farmers are a stodgy group of people all obsessively interested in the weather.’

‘How long is it likely to be until those legions arrive?’ Sparhawk asked him.

‘A week or so. They’ll come on foot, so they’ll make better time than they would on horseback.’

‘Isn’t it the other way around, your Excellency?’ Melidere asked him. ‘I thought horses moved much faster than men on foot.’

Mirtai laughed.

‘Did I say something funny?’ Melidere asked.

‘When I was fourteen, a man down in Daconia insulted me,’ the giantess told her. ‘He was drunk. When he sobered up the next morning, he realised what he’d done and fled on horseback. It was about dawn. I caught up with him just before noon. His horse had died from exhaustion. I always felt sort of sorry for the horse. A trained warrior can run all day. A horse can’t. A horse has to stop when he wants to eat, so he’s not used to running for more than a few hours at a time. We eat while we’re running, so we just keep on going.’

‘What did you do to the fellow who insulted you?’ Talen asked her.

‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Ah – no, Mirtai,’ he replied. ‘Now that you mention it, probably not.’

And so they had a week on their hands. Baroness Melidere devoted her time to breaking hearts. The young noblemen of King Alberen’s court flocked around her. She flirted outrageously, made all sorts of promises – none of which she kept – and occasionally allowed herself to be kissed in dark corners by persistent suitors. She had a great deal of fun and gathered a great deal of information. A young man pursuing a pretty girl will often share secrets with her, secrets which he should probably keep to himself.

To the surprise of Sparhawk and his fellow knights, Sir Berit devastated the young ladies of the court quite nearly as much as the baroness did the young men.

‘It’s absolutely uncanny,’ Kalten was saying one evening. ‘He doesn’t really do anything at all. He doesn’t talk to them; he doesn’t smile at them; he doesn’t do any of the things he’s supposed to do. I don’t know what it is, but every time he walks through a room, every young woman in the place starts to come all unravelled.’

‘He is a very handsome young man, Kalten,’ Ehlana pointed out.

‘Berit? He doesn’t even shave regularly yet.’

‘What’s that got to do with it? He’s tall, he’s a knight, he has broad shoulders and good manners. He’s also got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen – and the longest eyelashes.’

‘But he’s only a boy.’

‘Not any more. You haven’t really looked at him lately. Besides, the young ladies who sigh and cry into their pillows over him are quite young themselves.’

‘What’s really so irritating is the fact that he doesn’t even know what effect he has on all those poor girls,’ Tynian observed. ‘They’re doing everything but tearing their clothes off to get his attention, and he hasn’t got the faintest notion of what’s going on.’

‘That’s part of his charm, Sir Knight,’ Ehlana smiled. ‘If it weren’t for that innocence of his, they wouldn’t find him nearly so attractive. Sir Bevier here has much the same quality. The difference though, is that Bevier knows that he’s an extraordinarily handsome young man. He chooses not to do anything about it because of his religious convictions. Berit doesn’t even know.’

‘Maybe one of us should take him aside and tell him,’ Ulath suggested.

‘Never mind,’ Mirtai told him. ‘He’s fine just the way he is. Leave him alone.’

‘Mirtai’s right,’ Ehlana said. ‘Don’t tamper with him, gentlemen. We’d like to keep him innocent for just a while longer.’ A hint of mischief touched her lips. ‘Sir Bevier, on the other hand, is quite another matter. It’s time for us to find him a wife. He’ll make some girl an excellent husband.’

Bevier smiled faintly. ‘I’m already married, your Majesty – to the Church.’