In that one instant’s hesitation, the constables grabbed hold of him.

‘You may return to Sulien,’ she said to them, coldly dismissive. ‘My thanks to the Commissaire for his co-operation. But from here I take full charge of the prisoner.’

CHAPTER 19

‘So. You are Amaru Khassian?’

Khassian shaded his eyes, squinting into the rising sun. Girim nel Ghislain, Grand Maistre of the Commanderie, was a shadow silhouetted against the blinding glare.

‘I had not realised you were quite so young. So young and so talented. A god-given talent. Only once or twice a century one as gifted as you is born, Illustre. Come into the light. I want to look at you.’

When Khassian did not move, two Guerriors seized hold of him by the arms and dragged him forward.

‘Let go of me!’ Khassian shook himself free. The two Guerriors stood at his side, staring into the dazzling sun, faces unmoving.

The Grand Maistre gestured to one of the officers.

‘A chair for the Illustre Khassian.’

A gilt chair was placed behind him. He shook his head.

‘Oh, please sit down, Illustre Khassian. This interview may take a little time.’

Hands were placed on Khassian’s shoulders. He was pressed down, gently but firmly.

‘Interview? Wouldn’t interrogation be a more accurate term?’ he said.

‘Your words, not mine.’

‘Then why the secretary?’ Khassian nodded towards the grey-suited officer discreetly writing in a ledger.

‘For your protection as much as my own.’

‘So that you can twist my words to condemn me.’

‘If you have nothing to hide from us, Illustre, then you need not fear a record being kept of our conversation.’ Girim sat back in his chair. ‘You showed such promise, even as a young child. All that burgeoning talent so sadly misused. Abused. Frittered away in sick, sad projects like this… what did you call it?… Elesstar – or Litanies of Transubstantiation?‘

‘Only a working title.’

‘But blasphemous. Even the title reeks of heresy. You arrogant young intellectuals – why must you mock and deride what you do not understand? I am called back to Bel’Esstar, Jewel of Cities, my spiritual home – and what do I find? The Blessed Mhir’s shrine neglected – even His name, His holy writings, desecrated in – in vulgar entertainments.’

‘Elesstar is not an entertainment!’ cried Khassian. ‘It is my interpretation of Mhir’s writings. The Vineyard Verses.’

‘Your misinterpretation,’ said Girim coldly. ‘Your blatant distortion of holy texts. It seems a remarkably contentious work to me, Illustre. A work calculated to disturb. To provoke. Inflame.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Oh, I think you understand very well, Illustre. For a young man, you demonstrate a great degree of understanding. In the Opera House you know how to rouse the passions of your audience. You manipulate them through your art.’

‘Manipulate!’ Khassian echoed.