“Just don’t go overboard with it. I’ve already told you: fanaticism is all very well for ignoramuses, but it doesn’t befit us, men of nobler causes. Bruno Schilling had a hand in your brother’s murder. But if you have revenge in mind, then he, paradoxically, can help you with it. By giving us information.”

“By confabulating, you mean.”

“He knows he’s only alive thanks to us,” said Horn, eyes flashing, “and that it was because of me that he got out of the dungeon in Kłodzko in one piece. He knows that only I can save him from Grellenort and the Black Riders, whom he has abandoned. He is only alive and safe because Grellenort knows nothing about his desertion, thinks he fell at the Battle of Wielisław. He knows that if I expose his lies, I will simply cast him out of here and announce it to the world and then his days will be numbered.”

“What am I to do? Apart from showing him my hostility?”

“When he starts talking about magic at Sensenberg again, show him you’re an expert and that you won’t simply buy any old balderdash. If he becomes confused and tongue-tied, we’ll know where we stand.”

“If he’s as crafty as you say, I doubt he’ll let us catch him out. But I promised to help, so I shall; I’ll keep my promise. Hoping you won’t forget yours. When do we begin?”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

“Assassinations,” said Horn, his hands still on the table, “carried out using poison, planned by Grellenort and the Bishop of Wrocław. Tell us about them, Schilling.”

“Birkart Grellenort has an alchemist at Sensenberg Castle,” the renegade began without a moment’s delay and quite obsequiously. “He isn’t a man. It’s said he’s lived over a hundred years. Hair as white as snow, eyes like a fish’s, pointed ears, skin on his face and hands almost transparent, every vein shows through blue…”

“A Sverg,” said Reynevan with a nod, seeing Horn’s raised eyebrows and incredulous expression. “One of the Longaevi.”

“He is called Skirfir,” Bruno Schilling added quickly. “An alchemist and a mage, highly skilled. He prepares various decocts for Grellenort. And elixirs. Mainly liquefied gold. They say Grellenort’s great power derives from that gold. And that he’s immortal.”

Horn snorted and glanced enquiringly at Reynevan.

“It’s possible,” confirmed Reynevan, not concealing his sudden interest, “the transformation of metals and precious stones into liquid. To be precise, into a collodium or colloid, with a consistency thin enough to be able to drink it.”

“Drink metal?” said Horn with a look of utter disbelief. “Or stone?”