squire, Kurik,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘and probably a young Pandion novice named Berit. He shows some promise, and Kurik’s going to need somebody along to help him care for the horses.’ He thought a moment. ‘I think we’ll take a boy along as well,’ he said.
‘Talen?’ Kalten sounded surprised at that. ‘Is that really a good idea, Sparhawk?’
‘Chyrellos is corrupt enough already. I don’t think it’s a good idea to turn that little thief loose in the streets. Besides, I think we may find use for his specialized talents. The only other person going with us will be a little girl named Flute.’
Kalten stared at him in astonishment.
‘Sephrenia won’t leave her behind,’ Sparhawk explained, ‘and I’m not sure she can be left behind. You remember how easily she got out of that nunnery in Arcium.’
‘You’ve got a point there, I guess,’ Kalten conceded.
‘A very straightforward presentation, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier said approvingly. ‘When will we leave?’
‘First thing in the morning,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s a long way to Borrata, and the Archprelate isn’t getting younger. Patriarch Dolmant says that he could die at any time, and that’s when Annias will start to move.’
‘We must make our preparations then,’ Bevier said, rising to his feet. ‘Will you gentlemen be joining me in the chapel for evening service?’ he asked.
Kalten sighed. ‘I suppose we should,’ he said. ‘We are Church Knights, after all.’
‘And a bit of God’s help wouldn’t hurt, would it?’ Tynian added.
Late that afternoon, however, a company of church soldiers arrived at the gates of the chapterhouse. ‘I have a summons from the Patriarch Makova for you and your companions, Sir Sparhawk,’ the captain in charge of the soldiers said when Sparhawk and the others came down into the courtyard. ‘He would speak with you in the Basilica at once.’
‘We’ll get our horses,’ Sparhawk said. He led the rest of the knights into the stables. Once inside, he swore irritably.
‘Trouble?’ Tynian asked him.
‘Makova’s a supporter of Primate Annias,’ Sparhawk replied, leading Faran out of his stall. ‘I’ve got a strong suspicion that he’s going to try to hinder us.’
‘We must respond to his summons, however,’ Bevier said, swinging his saddle up onto his horse’s back. ‘We are Church Knights and must obey the commands of a member of the Hierocracy, no matter what his affiliation.’
‘And there’s that company of soldiers out there, too,’ Kalten added. ‘I’d say that Makova doesn’t take too many chances.’
‘Surely he doesn’t think we’d refuse?’ Bevier said.
‘You don’t know Sparhawk that well yet,’ Kalten told him. ‘He can be contrary at times.’
‘Well, we don’t have any choice in the matter,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go to the Basilica and see what the Patriarch has to say to us.’
They led their horses out into the courtyard and mounted. At a crisp command from the captain, the soldiers formed up around them.
The square in front of the Basilica was strangely deserted as Sparhawk and his friends dismounted.
‘Looks to me as if they’re expecting trouble,’ Kalten noted as they started up the broad marble stairs.
When they entered the vast nave of the church, Bevier went down on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.
The captain and a squad of his soldiers entered behind him. ‘We must not keep the Patriarch waiting,’ he said. There was a certain arrogant tone in his voice that irritated Sparhawk for some reason. He muffled that feeling, however, and piously dropped to his knees beside Bevier. Kalten grinned and also knelt. Tynian nudged Ulath, and they, too, went down on their knees.
‘I said –’ the captain began, his voice rising slightly.
‘We heard you, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said to him. ‘We’ll be with you presently.’
‘But –’
‘You can wait over there. We won’t be too long.’
The captain turned and stalked off.
‘Nice touch, Sparhawk,’ Tynian murmured.
‘We are Church Knights, after all,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It won’t hurt Makova to wait awhile. I’m sure he’ll enjoy the anticipation.’
‘I’m sure,’ Tynian agreed.
The five knights remained kneeling for perhaps ten minutes while the captain stalked about impatiently.
‘Have you finished, Bevier?’ Sparhawk asked politely when the Cyrinic unclasped his hands.
‘Yes,’ Bevier answered, his face alight with devotion. ‘I feel cleansed now and at peace with the world.’
‘Try to hang onto that feeling. The Patriarch of Coombe is likely to irritate us all.’ Sparhawk rose to his feet. ‘Shall we go then?’
‘Well, finally,’ the captain snapped as they joined him and his men.
Bevier looked at him coldly. ‘Have you any rank, Captain?’ he asked. ‘Aside from your military one, I mean?’
‘I am a marquis, Sir Bevier.’
‘Excellent. If our devotions offend you, I will be more than happy to give you satisfaction. You may have your seconds call upon me at any time. I will be at your complete disposal.’
The captain paled visibly and shrank back. ‘I am merely following my orders, my Lord. I would not dream of giving offence to a Knight of the Church.’
‘Ah,’ Bevier said distantly. ‘Let us proceed then. As you stated so excellently earlier, we must not keep the Patriarch of Coombe waiting.’
The captain led them to a hallway branching out from the nave.
‘Nicely done, Bevier,’ Tynian whispered.
The Cyrinic smiled briefly.
‘There’s nothing like the offer of a yard or so of steel in his belly to remind a man of his manners,’ Kalten added.
The chamber to which the captain led them was grandiose with deep maroon carpeting and drapes and polished marble walls. The lean-faced Patriarch of Coombe sat at a long table reading a parchment. He looked up as they were admitted, his face angry. ‘What took so long?’ he snapped at the captain.
‘The Knights of the Church felt obliged to spend a few moments in devotions before the main altar, your Grace.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
‘May
