‘Life is filled with absurdities, Sparhawk. The militant orders are all opposed to him, of course, and our opinion carries a great deal of weight with the Church Hierocracy, but Annias has his hands in the treasury of Elenia up to the elbows and he’s very free with his bribes. Ehlana would have been able to cut off his access to that money, but she fell ill. That may have something to do with his lack of enthusiasm about her recovery’

‘And he wants to put Arissa’s bastard on the throne to replace her?’ Sparhawk was growing angrier by the minute ‘Vanion, I’ve just seen Lycheas. He’s weaker – and stupider – than King Aldreas was. Besides, he’s illegitimate.’

Vanion spread his hands. ‘A vote of the Royal Council could legitimize him, and Annias controls the council.’

‘Not all of it, he doesn’t,’ Sparhawk grated. ‘Technically, I’m also a member of the council, and I think I might just want to sway a few votes if that ever came up. A public duel or two might change the minds of the council.’

‘You’re rash, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘No, I’m angry I feel a powerful urge to hurt some people.’

Vanion sighed. ‘We can’t make any decisions just yet,’ he said. Then he shook his head and turned to another matter. ‘What’s really going on in Rendor?’ he asked. ‘Voren’s reports were all rather carefully worded in the event they fell into unfriendly hands.’

Sparhawk rose and went to one of the embrasured windows with his black cape swirling about his ankles. The sky was still covered with dirty-looking cloud, and the city of Cimmura seemed to crouch beneath that scud as if clenched to endure yet another winter. ‘It’s hot there,’ he mused, almost as if to himself, ‘and dry and dusty The sun reflects back from the walls and pierces the eye At first light, before the sun rises and the sky is like molten silver, veiled women in black robes and with clay vessels on their shoulders pass in silence through the streets on their way to the wells.’

‘I’ve misjudged you, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said in her melodic voice. ‘You have the soul of a poet.’