Sparhawk nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Kalten.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Do you need anything?’

‘How about some beer – just to restore all the blood I lost, of course.’

It was impossible to tell what time it was since the cellar had no windows. Sparhawk felt a light touch and came awake immediately, catching the hand that had touched him.

The grubby-looking boy, Talen, made a sour face. ‘Never try to pick a pocket when you’re shivering,’ he said. He mopped the rain out of his face. ‘It’s really a miserable morning out there,’ he added.

‘Were you looking for anything in particular in my pockets?’

‘No, not really just anything that might turn up.’

‘Would you like to give me back my friend’s ring?’

‘Oh, I suppose so. I only took it to keep in practice anyway.’ Talen reached inside the wet tunic and drew out Kalten’s ring. ‘I cleaned the blood off it for him,’ he said, admiring it.

‘He’ll appreciate that.’

‘Oh, by the way, I found that fellow you were looking for.’

‘Krager? Where?’

‘He’s staying in a brothel in Lion Street.’

‘A brothel?’

‘Maybe he needs affection.’

Sparhawk sat up. He touched his horsehair beard to make sure it was still in place. ‘Let’s go talk to Platime.’

‘Do you want me to wake your friend?’

‘Let him sleep. I’m not going to take him out in the rain in his condition anyway.’

Platime was snoring in his chair, but his eyes opened instantly when Talen touched his shoulder.

‘The boy found Krager,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘You’re going after him, I suppose?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘Do you think the primate’s soldiers are still looking for you?’

‘Probably.’

‘And they know what you look like?’

‘Yes.’

‘You won’t get very far then.’

‘I’ll have to chance it.’

‘Platime,’ Talen said.

‘What?’

‘Do you remember that time when we had to get Weasel out of town in a hurry?’

Platime grunted, scratching at his paunch and looking speculatively at Sparhawk. ‘How much are you attached to that beard?’ he asked.

‘Not too much. Why?’

‘If you’d be willing to shave it off, I know a way you might be able to move around Cimmura without being recognized.’

Sparhawk began pulling off chunks of the false beard.

Platime laughed. ‘You really aren’t attached to it, are you?’ He looked at Talen. ‘Go and get what he’ll need out of the bin.’

Talen went to a large wooden box in the corner of the cellar and started rummaging around inside as Sparhawk finished removing the beard. When the boy came back, he was carrying a ragged-looking cloak and a pair of shoes that were little more than rotting leather bags.

‘How much of the rest of your face will come off?’ Platime asked.