Kurik nodded. ‘He’s at the chapterhouse on the east edge of town, but you can’t get there right now. They lock the east gate at sundown. I think you’d better present yourself at the palace right after the sun comes up, though. It won’t take Annias long to come up with the idea of declaring you outlaw for breaking your exile, and it’s better to appear on your own, rather than be dragged in like a common criminal. You’re still going to have to do some fast talking to stay out of the dungeon.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘I’ve got a document with the Queen’s seal on it authorizing my return.’ He pushed back his plate. ‘The handwriting’s a little childish, and there are tearstains on it, but I think it’s still valid.’

‘She cried? I didn’t think she knew how.’

‘She was only eight at the time, Kurik, and quite fond of me, for some reason.’

‘You have that effect on a few people.’ Kurik looked at Sparhawk’s plate. ‘Have you had all of that you want?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘Then get you to bed. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.’

It was much later. The room was faintly lit with the orange coals of the banked fire, and Kurik’s regular breathing came from the cot on the other side of the room. The insistent, nagging bang of an unlatched shutter swinging freely in the wind several streets over had set some brainless dog to barking, and Sparhawk lay, still half-bemused by sleep, patiently waiting for the dog to grow wet enough or weary enough of his entertainment to seek his kennel again.

Since it had been Krager he had seen in the square, there was no absolute certainty that Martel was in Cimmura. Krager was an errand boy and was frequently half a continent away from Martel. Had it been the brutal Adus who had crossed that rainy square, there would be no question as to Martel’s presence in the city. Of necessity, Adus had to be kept on a short leash.

Krager would not be hard to find. He was a weak man with the usual vices and the usual predictability of weak men. Sparhawk smiled bleakly into the darkness. Krager would be easy to find and Krager would know where Martel could be found. It would be a simple matter to drag that information out of him.

Moving quietly to avoid waking his sleeping squire, Sparhawk swung his legs out of the bed and crossed silently to the window to watch the rain slant past into the deserted, lantern-lit courtyard below. Absently he wrapped his hand about the silver-bound hilt of the broadsword standing beside his formal armour. It felt good – like taking the hand of an old friend.