from his stirrup and kicked the body off his sword-blade. ‘I did ask him to move out of our way, Lord Vanion,’ he explained. ‘Since he chose not to, what just happened is entirely his responsibility, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It was indeed, Sir Tynian,’ Vanion agreed. ‘I see no blame accruing to you in this matter. You were the very soul of courtesy.’
‘Let’s proceed then,’ Ulath said. He slipped his war-axe from its sling at the side of his saddle. ‘All right,’ he said to the wide-eyed church soldiers, ‘who’s next?’
The soldiers fled.
The knights who had been guarding the workmen came up at a trot, herding their prisoners ahead of them. Vanion left ten of them to hold the gates, and the column moved on into the city. The citizens of Cimmura were fully aware of the situation at the palace, and when they saw a column of bleak-faced Pandion Knights in their ominous black armour riding through the cobbled streets, they knew immediately that a confrontation was imminent. Doors slammed up and down the street, and shutters were hastily closed from the inside.
The knights rode on through now-deserted streets.
There was a sudden spiteful buzz from behind them, and a heavy clang. Sparhawk half-wheeled Faran.
‘You really ought to watch your back, Sparhawk,’ Kalten told him. ‘That was a crossbow bolt, and it would have taken you right between the shoulder-blades. You owe me what it’s going to cost me to have my shield re-enamelled.’
‘I owe you more than that, Kalten,’ Sparhawk said gratefully.
‘Strange,’ Tynian said. ‘The crossbow’s a Lamork weapon. Not many church soldiers carry them.’
‘Maybe it was something personal,’ Ulath grunted. ‘Have you offended any Lamorks lately, Sparhawk?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘There won’t be much point in extended conversation when we get to the palace,’ Vanion said. ‘I’ll order the soldiers to throw down their arms when we arrive.’
‘Do you think they’ll do it?’ Kalten asked.
Vanion grinned mirthlessly. ‘Probably not – at least not without several object lessons. When we get there, Sparhawk, I want you to take your friends here and secure the door to the palace. I don’t think we’ll want to chase church soldiers up and down the halls.’
‘Right,’ Sparhawk agreed.
The church soldiers, warned by the men who had fled from the city gates, had formed up in the palace courtyard, and the largely ornamental palace gates were closed.
‘Bring up the ram,’ Vanion called.
A dozen Pandions rode forward with a heavy log carried in rope slings attached to their saddles. It took them perhaps five minutes to batter down the gates, and then the Church Knights streamed into the courtyard.
‘Throw down your weapons!’ Vanion shouted to the confused soldiers in the yard.
Sparhawk led his friends around the perimeter of the courtyard to the large doors that gave entry into the palace. There they dismounted and climbed the stairs to confront the dozen soldiers on guard in front of the door. The officer in charge drew his sword. ‘No one may enter!’ he barked.
‘Get out of my way, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said in his deadly quiet voice.
‘I don’t take orders from –’ the officer began. Then his eyes glazed as there was a sudden sound like that a melon might make when dropped on a stone floor as Kurik deftly brained him with his spiked chain mace. The officer dropped, twitching.
‘That’s something new,’ Sir Tynian said to Sir Ulath. ‘I never saw a man with brains coming out of his ears before.’
‘Kurik’s very good with that mace,’ Ulath agreed.
‘Any questions?’ Sparhawk asked the other soldiers ominously.
They stared at him.
‘I believe you were told to drop your weapons,’ Kalten told them.
They hurriedly shed their arms.
‘We’re relieving you here, neighbours,’ Sparhawk informed them. ‘You may join your friends out there in the yard.’
They quickly went down the stairs.
The mounted Pandions were slowly advancing on the church soldiers standing in the courtyard. There was some sporadic resistance from the more fanatic of the soldiers, and the Pandion Knights provided a sizeable number of those ‘object lessons’ their Preceptor had mentioned. The centre of the courtyard soon flowed with blood, and it was littered with unattached heads, arms and a few legs. More and more of the soldiers saw the direction the fight was going, threw away their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. There was one stubborn pocket of resistance, but the knights pushed the struggling soldiers up against one wall and slaughtered them.
Vanion looked around the yard. ‘Herd the survivors into the stables,’ he ordered, ‘and post a few guards.’ Then he dismounted and walked back to the shattered gate. ‘It’s all over now, little mother,’ he called to Sephrenia, who had waited outside with Talen and Berit. ‘It’s safe to come in now.’
Sephrenia rode her white palfrey into the courtyard, shielding her eyes with one hand. Talen, however, looked around with bright vicious eyes.
‘Let’s get rid of this,’ Ulath said to Kurik, bending to pick up the shoulders of the dead officer. The two of them carried the body off to one side, and Tynian thoughtfully scraped the puddle of brains off the top step with one foot.
‘Do you people always chop your enemies to pieces like this?’ Talen asked Sparhawk as he dismounted and went over to help Sephrenia down from her horse.
Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Vanion wanted the soldiers to see what would happen to them if they offered any more resistance. Dismemberment is usually quite convincing.’
‘Must you?’ Sephrenia shuddered.
‘You’d better let us go in first, little mother,’ Sparhawk said as Vanion joined them with twenty knights. ‘There may be soldiers hiding in there.’
As it turned out, there were a few, but Vanion’s knights efficiently flushed them from their hiding places and took them to the main door and gave them pointed instructions to join their comrades in the stables.
The doors to the council chamber were unguarded, and Sparhawk opened the door and held it for Vanion.
Lycheas was cowering, slack-lipped and trembling behind the council table with the fat man in red, and Baron Harparin was desperately yanking on one of the bell-pulls. ‘You can’t come in here!’ Harparin said shrilly to Vanion in his high-pitched, effeminate voice. ‘I command you to leave at once on the authority of King Lycheas.’
Vanion looked at him coldly. Sparhawk knew that Vanion bore a towering contempt for the disgusting pederast. ‘This man irritates me,’ he said in a flat voice, pointing at Harparin. ‘Will someone please do something about him?’
Ulath
