The day wasn’t an absolute waste, then.’

Sparhawk grunted. ‘I want to change out of this.’ He rapped on the breastplate of his armour with his knuckles.

‘You want me to unsaddle Faran for you?’

‘No. I’ll be going back out. Where’s Sephrenia?’

‘In her room, I think.’

‘Have somebody saddle her horse.’

‘Is she going somewhere?’

‘Probably’ Sparhawk went on up the stairs and entered the chapterhouse

It was about a quarter of an hour later when he tapped on Sephrenia’s door He had removed his armour and now wore a mail coat beneath a nondescript grey cloak that bore no insignia of his rank or his order. ‘It’s me, Sephrenia,’ he said through the panels of the door.

‘Come in, Sparhawk,’ she said.

He opened the door and stepped in quietly.

She was sitting in a large chair with Flute in her lap. The child was sleeping with a contented little smile on her face. ‘Did things go well at the Basilica?’ Sephrenia asked.

‘It’s a little hard to say,’ he replied. ‘Churchmen are very good at hiding their emotions. Did you and Kalten find out anything about all the Styrics here in Chyrellos yesterday?’

She nodded. ‘They’re concentrated in the quarter near the east gate. They have a house there somewhere that seems to be a headquarters of some sort. We weren’t able to locate it exactly, though.’

‘Why don’t we go see if we can find it?’ he suggested. ‘I need something to do. I’m feeling a bit restless.’

‘Restless? You, Sparhawk? The man of stone?’

‘Impatience, I suppose I want to get started for Borrata.’

She nodded. Then she rose, lifting Flute easily, and laid the child on the bed. Gently she covered the little girl with a grey woollen blanket. Flute briefly opened her dark eyes, then smiled and went back to sleep. Sephrenia kissed the small face, then turned to Sparhawk. ‘Shall we go then?’ she said.

‘You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?’ Sparhawk asked as the two of them walked along the corridor leading towards the courtyard.

‘It goes a bit deeper than that. Someday perhaps you’ll understand.’

‘Have you any idea where this Styric house might be?’

‘There’s a shopkeeper in the market near the east gate. He sold some Styrics a number of sides of meat. The porter who delivered them knows where the house is.’

‘Why didn’t you question the porter?’

‘He wasn’t there yesterday.’

‘Maybe he’ll make it to work today.’

‘It’s worth a try’

He stopped and gave her a direct look. ‘I’m not trying to pry into the secrets you’ve chosen not to reveal, Sephrenia, but could you distinguish between ordinary rural Styrics and Zemochs?’

‘It’s possible,’ she admitted, ‘unless they’re taking steps to conceal their true identity.’