‘Excellent. If our devotions offend you, I will be more than happy to give you satisfaction. You may have your seconds call upon me at any time. I will be at your complete disposal.’

The captain paled visibly and shrank back. ‘I am merely following my orders, my Lord. I would not dream of giving offence to a Knight of the Church.’

‘Ah,’ Bevier said distantly. ‘Let us proceed then. As you stated so excellently earlier, we must not keep the Patriarch of Coombe waiting.’

The captain led them to a hallway branching out from the nave.

‘Nicely done, Bevier,’ Tynian whispered.

The Cyrinic smiled briefly.

‘There’s nothing like the offer of a yard or so of steel in his belly to remind a man of his manners,’ Kalten added.

The chamber to which the captain led them was grandiose with deep maroon carpeting and drapes and polished marble walls. The lean-faced Patriarch of Coombe sat at a long table reading a parchment. He looked up as they were admitted, his face angry. ‘What took so long?’ he snapped at the captain.

‘The Knights of the Church felt obliged to spend a few moments in devotions before the main altar, your Grace.’

‘Oh. Of course.’

‘May I withdraw, your Grace?’

‘No. Stay It shall fall to you to enforce the dictates I will issue here.’

‘As it please your Grace.’

Makova then looked sternly at the knights. ‘I am told that you gentlemen are planning a foray into Cammoria,’ he said.

‘We haven’t made any secret of it, your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied.

‘I forbid it.’

‘Might one ask why, your Grace?’ Tynian asked mildly.

‘No. One may not. The Church Knights are subject to the authority of the Hierocracy. Explanations are not required. You are all to return to the Pandion chapterhouse and you will remain there until it pleases me to send you further instructions.’ He smiled a chill smile. ‘I believe you will all be returning home very shortly.’ Then he drew himself up. That will be all. You have my permission to withdraw. Captain, you will see to it that these knights do not leave the Pandion chapterhouse.’

‘Yes, your Grace.’

They all bowed and silently filed out of the door.

‘That was short, wasn’t it?’ Kalten said as they went back down the corridor with the captain some distance in the lead.

There wasn’t much point in fogging the issue with lame excuses,’ Sparhawk replied.

Kalten leaned towards his friend. ‘Are we going to obey his orders?’ he whispered.

‘No.’

‘Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier gasped, ‘surely you would not disregard the commands of a Patriarch of the Church?’

‘No, not really. All I need is a different set of orders.’

‘Dolmant?’ Kalten guessed.

‘His name does sort of leap to mind, doesn’t it?’