‘No. I’ll be coming back here when Kalten arrives. It’s a little hard to get in and out of the chapterhouse without being seen. Is the back door to that tavern still open?’

‘It was yesterday I drop in there from time to time.’

‘I thought you might.’

‘A man needs a few vices, Sparhawk. It gives him something to repent when he goes to chapel.’

‘If Aslade hears that you’ve been drinking, she’ll set fire to your beard.’

‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t hear about it, won’t we, my Lord?’

‘Why do I always get mixed up in your domestic affairs?’

‘It keeps your feet planted in reality. Get your own wife, Sparhawk. Then other women won’t feel obliged to take special note of you. A married man is safe. A bachelor is a constant challenge to any woman alive.’

About half an hour later, Sparhawk and his squire went down the stairs into the courtyard, mounted their horses, and rode out through the gate. They clattered along the cobblestone streets towards the east gate of the city.

‘We’re being watched, you know,’ Kurik said quietly.

‘I certainly hope so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’d hate to have to ride around in circles until we attract somebody’s attention.’

They went through the ritual again at the drawbridge of the chapterhouse and then rode on into the courtyard. Berit was waiting for them.

‘This is Kurik,’ Sparhawk told him as he dismounted. ‘The two of you will be going to Demos. Kurik, the young man’s name is Berit.’

The squire looked the acolyte up and down. ‘He’s the right size,’ he noted. ‘I might have to shorten a few straps, but your armour should come close to fitting him.’

‘I thought so myself.’

Another novice came out and took their reins.

‘Come along then, you two,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go and tell Vanion what we’re going to do, and then we’ll put my armour on our masquerader here.’

Berit looked startled.

‘You’re being promoted, Berit,’ Kurik told him. ‘You see how quickly one can move up in the Pandions? Yesterday a novice; today Queen’s Champion.’

‘I’ll explain it to you when we see Vanion,’ Sparhawk told Berit. ‘It’s not so interesting a story that I want to go over it more than once.’

It was midafternoon when the three of them emerged from the chapterhouse door again. Berit walked awkwardly in the unaccustomed armour, and Sparhawk was dressed in a plain tunic and hose.

‘I think it’s going to rain,’ Kurik said, squinting at the sky

‘You won’t melt,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘I’m not worried about that,’ the squire replied. ‘It’s just that I’ll have to scour the rust off your armour again.’ ’Life is hard.’