‘I’ve noticed,’ she said. ‘Flute,’ she said a bit wearily then, ‘please put the book down. I’ve asked you again and again not to touch them.’

Several days later, Sir Tynian and Sir Ulath arrived, riding together. Tynian was a good-humoured Alcione Knight from Deira, the kingdom lying to the north of Elenia. His broad, round face was open and friendly. His shoulders and chest were powerfully muscled as the result of years of bearing Deiran armour, the heaviest in the world. Over his massive armour he wore a sky-blue surcoat. Ulath was a hulking Genidian Knight, fully a head taller than Sparhawk. He did not wear armour, but rather a plain mail shirt and a simple conical helmet. Covering his shirt, he wore a green surcoat. He carried a large round shield and a heavy war axe. Ulath was a silent, withdrawn man who seldom spoke. His blond hair hung in two braids down his back.

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Tynian said to Sparhawk and Kalten as he dismounted in the courtyard of the chapterhouse. He looked at them closely. ‘You would be Sir Sparhawk,’ he said. ‘Our preceptor said that you’d broken your nose sometime.’ He grinned then. ‘It’s all right, Sparhawk. It doesn’t interfere with your kind of beauty.’

‘I’m going to like this man,’ Kalten said.

‘And you must be Kalten,’ Tynian said. He thrust out his hand, and Kalten took it before he realized that the Alcione was holding a dead mouse concealed in his palm. With a startled oath, he jerked his hand back. Tynian howled with laughter.

‘I think I could get to like him as well,’ Sparhawk noted.

‘My name is Tynian,’ the Alcione Knight introduced himself. ‘My silent friend there is Ulath from Thalesia. He caught up with me a few days ago. Hasn’t spoken ten words since then.’

‘You talk enough for both of us,’ Ulath grunted, sliding out of his saddle

‘That’s God’s own truth,’ Tynian admitted. ‘I have this overwhelming fondness for the sound of my own voice.’

Ulath thrust out his huge hand. ‘Sparhawk,’ he said.

‘No mice?’ Sparhawk asked.

A faint smile touched Ulath’s face as they clasped hands. Then he shook hands with Kalten, and the four of them went up the steps into the chapterhouse.

‘Has Bevier arrived yet?’ Tynian asked Kalten.

‘A few days back. Have you ever met him?’

‘Once. Our preceptor and I made a formal visit to Larium, and we were introduced to the Cyrinics in their motherhouse there. I found him to be a bit stiff-necked and formal.’

‘That hasn’t changed much.’

‘Didn’t think it had. Exactly what are we going to do down in Cammoria? Preceptor Darellon can be infuriatingly close-mouthed on occasion.’

‘Let’s wait until Bevier joins us,’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘I get the feeling that he might be a little touchy, so let’s not offend him by talking business out of his presence.’