'It is hard to say. He has many troubles. The war in the east has meant most of his regular troops are far from Stone. Brother Solstice tells me that there are now more Stone Knights in the city than loyal soldiers. Jasaray apparently believes Nalademus is loyal to him – and perhaps he is. But the political situation there is precarious. The arrival of Rigante ambassadors will cause a stir, and perhaps deflect criticism of the eastern campaign. In short, brother, I do not know.'

Bran had now been in Stone for ten days, he and Fiallach quartered at a villa to the south of the city awaiting the call from Jasaray. Now it had come, and still there had been no talks.

A servant came running down the path. 'The bathhouse is ready, sirs,' he said. 'And your clothes have been moved from the villa. I have taken the liberty of having them washed for you. They are currently drying.'

'That is kind of you,' said Bran.

The private bathhouse was some forty feet long, with a sunken bath large enough to take perhaps twenty people. Bran and Fiallach removed their clothes and climbed in, sitting back and relaxing in the perfumed water. Fiallach sighed and ducked his head below the surface. He came up spluttering, water dripping from his braids and his long yellow and silver moustache. Bran chuckled. 'You are being corrupted by such decadence,' he said.

'It eases the pain in my back,' said Fiallach. 'I am not as young as once I was. I do not heal so swiftly.'

They lazed contentedly for some time, then two servants arrived, holding hot towels. The Rigante warriors climbed from the bath and dried themselves, then walked through to the massage room, where two young men waited.

Bran lay on his stomach and felt the warm oil poured to his back. He relaxed instantly, and the masseur expertly stroked and probed the muscles of his neck and shoulders, easing out the tensions. He glanced across at Fiallach, who was lying face down with his eyes closed. When the massage was finished, the oil gently scraped from their bodies with rounded ivory blades, they rose and dressed, and returned to their rooms. Food had been laid there, cold cooked meats and sweet pastries alongside two jugs, one of wine, one of water. They ate, then sat back to await the call from Jasaray.

'One could almost come to like this place,' said Fiallach.

The door opened and two silver-armoured warriors entered. 'Your chariot is here,' said the first, his voice echoing the contempt in his eyes.

Fiallach rose and strode across to tower over him. He looked at the man closely.

'Isn't that remarkable,' he said to Bran. 'Do you remember the first Stone head I rammed on the lance? It was just like his, though I think this man's neck is thicker. Probably take two cuts to sever it.' The soldier blanched, and licked his lips. Fiallach smiled at him. 'Do not concern yourself, little man. Today I am in a good mood.'