They moved southward towards Madel in easy stages to conserve the sorry mounts of the vicar’s parishioners, and they arrived on the outskirts of the port city about noon on the fourth day out of Borrata. When the town came into view, Sparhawk rode forward to join the vicar at the head of the column. He handed the good man a pouch full of coins. ‘We’ll be leaving you here,’ he said. ‘A matter has come up that needs our attention.’

The vicar gave him a speculative look. ‘This was all subterfuge, wasn’t it, my Lord?’ he asked gravely ‘I may be only the poor pastor of a poverty-stricken chapel, but I recognize the manner and bearing of Church Knights when I see them.’

‘Forgive us, good vicar,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Take your people to the holy places here in Madel. Lead them in prayer and then see to it that they’re well fed. Then return to Borrata and use whatever money is left as you see fit.’

‘And may I do this with a clear conscience, my son?’

‘The clearest, good pastor. My friends and I serve the Church in a matter of gravest urgency, and your aid will be appreciated by the members of the Hierocracy in Chyrellos – most of them, at any rate.’ Then Sparhawk turned Faran around and rode back to his companions. ‘All right, Bevier,’ he said. ‘Take us to your chapterhouse.’

‘I have been considering that, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier replied. ‘Our chapterhouse here is closely watched by local authorities and all manner of other folk. Even garbed as we are, we would surely be recognized.’

Sparhawk grunted. ‘You’re probably right. Can you think of any alternatives?’

‘Perhaps so. As it happens, I have a kinsman – a marquis from eastern Arcium – who has a villa on the outskirts of the city. I have not seen him for some years – our family disapproved of him because he’s in trade–but perhaps he will remember me. He’s a good-natured fellow, and if I approach him right, he might extend his hospitality.’

‘It’s worth a try, I guess. All right. Lead the way.’

They rode around the western outskirts of Madel to an opulent house surrounded by a low wall built of the local sandstone. The house was set back some distance from the road and was surrounded by tall evergreens and well-groomed lawns. There was a gravelled court directly in front of the house, and they dismounted there. A servant in sober livery emerged from the house and approached inquiringly.

‘Would you be so good as to advise the marquis that his second cousin, Sir Bevier, and several friends would like to have a word with him?’ the Cyrinic inquired politely.

‘At once, my Lord.’ The servant turned and re-entered the house.