They all rode out together towards the waterfront. Their route took them through the familiar quarter where Sparhawk had maintained his shop during the years he had been hidden there. The buildings on either side of the street were almost like old friends, and he thought he recognized a few of the people hurrying home through the narrow streets as the sun sank towards the western horizon.

‘Brute” The voice from behind them probably carried halfway across the Arcian Strait, and it was painfully familiar ‘Assassin!’

‘Oh, no!’ Sparhawk groaned, reining Faran in. ‘And we were so close.’ He looked longingly at the waterfront inn to which Voren was leading them and which was but one street away

‘Monster!’ the voice went on in a strident tone

‘Uh Sparhawk,’ Kurik said mildly, ‘is it my imagination, or is that lady trying to get your attention?’

‘Just let it lie, Kurik.’

‘Anything you say, my Lord.’

‘Assassin! Brute! Monster! Deserter!’

There was a brief pause ‘Murderer!’ the woman added.

‘I never did that,’ Sparhawk murmured. He sighed and turned Faran around. ‘Hello, Lillias,’ he said to the robed and veiled woman who had been shouting at him. He spoke in as mild and inoffensive a tone as he could manage

‘Hello, Lillias?’ she shrieked. ‘Hello, Lillias! Is that all you have to say for yourself, brigand?’

Sparhawk tried very hard not to smile In a peculiar way, he loved Lillias and he was pleased to see her enjoying herself so much. ‘You’re looking well, Lillias,’ he said conversationally, knowing that a comment like that would spur her to new heights.

‘Well? Well? When you have murdered me? When you have cut my heart out? When you have sunk me in the mire of deepest despair?’ She leaned back in a tragic posture, head up and arms thrown wide. ‘Hardly a morsel of food has passed my lips since that hateful day when you abandoned me penniless in the gutter.’

‘I left you the shop, Lillias,’ he protested. ‘It fed us both before I left. Surely it still feeds you.’

‘Shop! What do I care about the shop? It is my heart that you have broken, Mahkra!’ She thrust back her hood and ripped off her veil. ‘Assassin!’ she cried. ‘Look at your handiwork!’ She began to tear at her long, glossy black hair and to gouge at her dark, full-lipped face with her fingernails.

‘Lillias!’ Sparhawk barked in the tone he had only had to use a few times during their years together. ‘Stop that! You’ll hurt yourself.’

But Lillias was in full voice now, and there was no stopping her. ‘Hurt?’ she cried tragically ‘What do I care about hurt? How can you hurt a dead woman? You want to see hurt, Mahkra? Look at my heart!’ She ripped open the front of her robe It was not her heart, however, that she revealed.