The two Guerriors released Khassian’s arms and stepped back, saluting. The door clicked shut behind them.

Acir hastily came round the desk to Khassian, reaching out to him.

Khassian raised his unkempt head and spat, hitting him in the face.

Acir stopped.

He felt the spittle trickling down his cheek.

A riot of conflicting feelings burst in his heart – but he willed himself to betray no emotion. He reached into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief, slowly wiping Khassian’s spittle from his cheek.

‘Come on, Captain Korentan. Aren’t you going to hit me?’

Acir put away his handkerchief, each movement deliberately slow and considered, taking time to regain his self-control. This was going to need as much skill as he could summon – and even then the risk of failure was great. At least there was no grille in the door through which they could spy on the interview.

‘I respected you. I came to believe you were different from the rest of your cursed Commanderie. Why don’t you just hand me over to those thugs outside and let them beat me senseless?’

‘Have you quite finished?’ Acir said briskly.

‘No. The food’s inedible. I’m crawling with lice, I can’t even scratch –

‘Amar! For Mhir’s sake, listen to me!’ Acir wanted to grip him by the shoulders, to shake him until the bitter, incoherent stream of complaints ceased. ‘I want to help you. But you’ve got to trust me.’

‘Trust you!’ Khassian threw back his head and began to laugh. And then the laughter choked into sobs; his shoulders began to heave.

Anguished, Acir could only stand lamely by and watch. After a while he began to speak; quietly, insistently, hoping the sound of his voice would eventually penetrate Khassian’s grief.

‘You are going to have to call on all your theatrical skills. You are going to have to act the unwilling convert. Just as I will have to act the interrogator. We are going to play at priest and penitent. There is no other way I can get time alone with you – to relay messages to you, to plan your escape. Are you hearing what I’m saying? This is the only way no one will suspect.’

Khassian wiped his streaming eyes and nose on the filthy sleeve of his tunic.

‘It’s just another game. Cat and mouse. You played this game with me in Sulien. I’m not playing this time.’

‘Maybe you saw it as a game in Sulien. Now there are others, many others, relying on you. But if you want to give up…’ Acir shrugged. ‘It’s your choice.’

‘Wait,’ Khassian said, voice still thick with tears. ‘Others? This is just another trap. I play along with you – implicate others – and then the Commanderie arrests us all. No promise of conversion this time. Conspiracy trial, and execution.’