“Those childish tears changed me. The scales fell away. I understood that it is foolish to look for revenge against lackeys and hirelings, that it was a pointless waste of time to track and kill informers, false witnesses, members of the tribunal—even the head of the tribunal, the pious Piotr Bancz, lector at the Świdnica Dominican convent. I gave up those plans. Making the firm decision, at the same time, that I would do anything to get my hands on the real wrongdoer. Konrad, the Bishop of Wrocław. It isn’t easy to land somebody like Konrad, a stroke of luck, a chance, is necessary. And for me this Bruno Schilling is just such a chance.

“So you must understand my reasoning, Reinmar, you must see that I can’t proceed any other way. There’s no smoke without fire, as it is said. I cannot rule out the eventuality that you were, indeed, turned, that you are working for the other side. Now, after Schilling’s interrogations, you simply know too much for me to let you go. Because perhaps you would hurry, O noble, headstrong Lancelot, to the aid and rescue of your beloved Guinevere. Perhaps you would keep your promise and stay silent. I think—why, I believe—you would behave and act like that. But I cannot rule out other possibilities, of the kind that might thwart my plans. I can’t take that risk. So you’ll stay here, at Sovinec. As long as will be necessary.

“You’re taking it calmly,” said Horn, breaking the long silence that fell after he finished speaking. “You aren’t yelling, hurling insults, or attacking me… It can be explained in two ways. The first: you’re wiser. The second—”

“It’s the second.”

Horn stood up. That was all he had time to do. The door slammed open and Scharley, Samson and Houžvička burst into the chamber. Houžvička was holding a nocked crossbow and was aiming it straight at his former commander’s face.

“The knife, Horn.” Scharley’s keen eyes hadn’t missed anything, as usual. “Toss it on the floor.”

Houžvička raised the crossbow. Urban Horn dropped the dagger—which he had managed to draw unnoticed from his sleeve—onto the floor.