‘I’d imagine as much, yes.’

‘I guess that’s about all then, Elius,’ Sparhawk said benignly ‘I certainly want to thank you for your cooperation tonight.’

‘You’re letting me go?’ the consul asked incredulously.

‘No, I’m afraid not. Martel’s an old friend of mine. I want to surprise him when I get to Dabour, so I can’t risk having you get word to him that I’m coming. There’s a penitent’s cell down in the cellar of this monastery. I’m sure you feel very penitent just now, and I want to give you some time to reflect on your sins. The cell is quite comfortable, I’m told. It has a door, four walls, a ceiling and even a floor.’ He looked at the abbot. ‘It does have a floor, doesn’t it, my Lord?’

‘Oh, yes,’ the abbot confirmed, ‘a nice cold stone one.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Elius protested shrilly.

‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik agreed, ‘you really can’t confine a man in a penitent’s cell against his will. It’s a violation of Church law’

‘Oh,’ Sparhawk said pettishly, ‘I suppose you’re right. I did want to avoid all the mess. Go ahead and do it the other way, then.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Kurik said respectfully He drew his dagger. ‘Tell me, my Lord Abbot,’ he said, ‘does your monastery have a graveyard?’

‘Yes, rather a nice one, actually.’

‘Oh, good. I hate just to drag them out into the open countryside and leave them for the jackals.’ He took hold of the consul’s hair and tipped his head back. Then he set the edge of his dagger against the cringing man’s throat. ‘This won’t take a moment, your Excellency,’ he said professionally.

‘My Lord Abbot,’ Elius squealed.

‘I’m afraid it’s altogether out of my hands, your Excellency,’ the abbot said with mock piety. ‘The Church Knights have their own laws. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.’

‘Please, my Lord Abbot,’ Elius pleaded. ‘Confine me to the penitent’s cell.’

‘Do you sincerely repent your sins?’ the abbot asked.

‘Yes! Yes! I am heartily ashamed!’

‘I am afraid, Sir Sparhawk, that I must intercede on this penitent’s behalf,’ the abbot said. ‘I cannot permit you to kill him until he has made his peace with God.’

‘That’s your final decision, my Lord Abbot?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘I’m afraid it is, Sir Sparhawk.’ ‘Oh, all right. Let us know as soon as he’s completed his penance. Then we’ll kill him.’ ‘Of course, Sir Sparhawk.’

After the violently trembling Elius had been taken away by a pair of burly monks, the three men in the room began to laugh.

‘That was rare, my Lord,’ Sparhawk congratulated the abbot. ‘It was exactly the right tone.’

‘I’m not a complete novice at this sort of thing, Sparhawk,’ the abbot said. He looked at the big Pandion shrewdly ‘You Pandions have a reputation for brutality, particularly where questioning captives is concerned.’

‘It seems to me I’ve heard some rumours to that effect, yes,’ Sparhawk admitted.

‘But you don’t really do anything to people, do you?’

‘Not usually, no. It’s the reputation that persuades people to co-operate. Do you have any idea how hard – and messy – it is actually to torture people? We planted those rumours about our order ourselves. After all, why work if you don’t have to?’

‘My feelings exactly, Sparhawk. Now,’ the abbot said eagerly, ‘why don’t you tell me about the naked lady – and the bridge –and anything else you might have run across? Don’t leave anything out. I’m only a poor cloistered monk, and I don’t really get much fun out of life.’

Chapter 20

Sparhawk winced and drew his breath in sharply. ‘Sephrenia, do you have to dig straight in?’ he complained.

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she told him, continuing to pick at the sliver in his hand with her needle. ‘If I don’t get it all out, it’s going to fester.’

He sighed and gritted his teeth together as she continued to probe. He looked at Flute, who had both hands across her mouth as if to stifle a giggle.

‘You think it’s funny?’ he asked her crossly.

She lifted her pipes and blew a derisive little trill.

‘I’ve been thinking, Sparhawk,’ the abbot said. ‘If Annias has people in Jiroch the same as he has here in Cippria, wouldn’t it be safer just to go around it and avoid the possibility of being recognized?’

‘I think we’ll have to chance it, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I’ve got a friend in Jiroch I need to talk with before we go upriver.’ He looked down at his black robe. ‘These ought to get us past a casual glance.’

‘I think it’s dangerous, Sparhawk.’

‘Not if we’re careful, I hope.’

Kurik, who had been saddling their horses and loading the pack mule the abbot had given them, came into the room. He was carrying a long, narrow wooden case. ‘Do you really have to take this?’ he asked Sephrenia.

‘Yes, Kurik,’ she replied in a sad voice. ‘I do.’ ‘What’s in it?’

‘A pair of swords. They’re a part of the burden I bear.’

‘It’s a pretty large box for only two swords.’

‘There’ll be others, I’m afraid.’ She sighed, then began to wrap Sparhawk’s hand with a strip of linen cloth.

‘It doesn’t need a bandage, Sephrenia,’ he objected. ‘It was only a splinter.’

She gave him a long, steady stare.

He gave up. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Do whatever you think is best.’

‘Thank you.’ She tied the end of the bandage.

‘You’ll send word to Larium then, my Lord?’ Sparhawk asked the abbot.

‘On the next ship that leaves the harbour, Sir Sparhawk.’

Sparhawk thought a moment. ‘I don’t think we’ll be going back to Madel,’ he said. ‘We have some companions staying at the house of the Marquis Lycien there.’

The abbot nodded. ‘I know him,’ he said.

‘Could you get word to them as well? Tell them that if everything works out at Dabour, we’ll be going home from there. I think they might as well go on back to Cimmura.’