Sparhawk turned and saw Kalten coolly pulling his sword out of the chest of the man with the missing arm. ‘Don’t leave them behind you like that, Sparhawk,’ the blond man said. ‘Even a one-armed man can stab you in the back. Besides, it isn’t tidy. Always finish one job before you go on to the next.’ He still had his left hand tightly pressed to his side.

‘Are you all right?’ Sparhawk asked him.

‘It’s only a scratch.’

‘Scratches don’t bleed like that. Let me have a look.’

The gash in Kalten’s side was sizeable, but it did not appear to be too deep. Sparhawk ripped the sleeve off the smock of one of the casualties, wadded it up, and placed it over the cut in Kalten’s side. ‘Hold that in place,’ he said. ‘Push in on it to slow the bleeding.’

‘I’ve been cut before, Sparhawk. I know what to do.’

Sparhawk looked around at the crumpled bodies littering the alley ‘I think we ought to leave,’ he said. ‘Somebody in the neighbourhood might get curious about all the noise.’ Then he frowned. ‘Did you notice anything peculiar about these men?’ he asked.

Kalten shrugged. ‘They were fairly inept.’

‘That’s not what I mean. Men who make a living by waylaying people in alleys aren’t usually very interested in their personal appearance, and these fellows are all clean-shaven.’ He rolled over one of the bodies and ripped open the front of his canvas smock. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’ he observed. Beneath the smock the dead man wore a red tunic with an embroidered emblem over the left breast.

‘Church soldier,’ Kalten grunted. ‘Do you think that Annias might possibly dislike us?’

‘It’s not unlikely. Let’s get out of here The survivors might have gone for help.’

‘The chapterhouse then – or the inn?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Somebody’s seen through our disguises, and Annias would expect us to go to one of those places.’

‘You could be right about that. Any ideas?’

‘I know of a place. It’s not too far. Are you all right to walk?’

‘I can go as far as you can. I’m younger, remember?’

‘Only by six weeks.’

‘Younger is younger, Sparhawk. Let’s not quibble about numbers.’

They tucked their broadswords under their belts and walked out of the mouth of the alley. Sparhawk supported his wounded friend as they moved out into the open.

The street along which they walked grew progressively shabbier, and they soon entered a maze of interconnecting lanes and unpaved alleys. The buildings were large and run-down, and they teemed with roughly dressed people who seemed indifferent to the squalor around them.

‘It’s a rabbit warren, isn’t it?’ Kalten said. ‘Is this place much farther? I’m getting a little tired.’

‘It’s just on the other side of that next intersection.’

Kalten grunted and pressed his hand more tightly to his side