‘Go and tell Sef to hitch the grey team to the carriage with the blue wheels and to bring it to the alley door.’

‘What’s in it for me?’

‘I’ll postpone the thrashing I’m just about to give you.’

That sounds fair.’ The boy grinned and scampered away.

‘That’s a very clever young man,’ Sparhawk said.

‘He’s the best,’ Platime agreed. ‘It’s my guess that he’ll replace me when I retire.’

‘He’s the crown prince, then.’

Platime laughed uproariously ‘The crown prince of thieves. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? You know, I like you, Sparhawk.’ Still laughing, the fat man clapped the big knight on the shoulder. ‘If there’s ever anything else I can do for you, let me know.’

‘I will, Platime.’

‘I’ll even give you a special rate.’

‘Thanks,’ Sparhawk said dryly He picked up his sword from beside Platime’s chair and went back to his cot to change back into his own clothes. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked Kalten.

‘I’m fine’

‘Good. You’d better get ready to leave.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to the chapterhouse. I found out something that Vanion needs to know.’

The carriage was not new, but it was soundly constructed and well maintained. The windows were draped with heavy curtains which effectively hid the passengers from prying eyes. The team which drew the carriage were a pair of matched greys, and they moved out at a brisk trot.

Kalten leaned back against the leather cushion. ‘Is it my imagination, or does thieving pay better than knighting?’

‘We didn’t go into the business for the money, Kalten,’ Sparhawk reminded him.

‘That’s painfully obvious, my friend.’ Kalten stretched out his legs and crossed his arms contentedly. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I could get to like this sort of thing.’

‘Try not to,’ Sparhawk advised him.

‘You have to admit that it’s a great deal more comfortable than pounding your backside on a hard saddle.’

‘Discomfort’s good for the soul.’

‘My soul’s just fine, Sparhawk. It’s my behind that’s starting to wear out.’

The carriage moved rapidly through the streets, and they soon passed through the east gate of the city and pulled up at the drawbridge of the chapterhouse. Sparhawk and Kalten stepped out into the drizzly afternoon, and Sef immediately turned the carriage around and clattered back towards the city.

Following the ritual which gained them entrance into the fortified house, Sparhawk and Kalten went immediately to the preceptor’s study in the south tower.

Vanion was seated at the large table in the centre of the room with a stack of documents in front of him, and Sephrenia sat by the crackling fire with her ever-present teacup in her hand. She was looking into the dancing flames, her eyes a mystery.

Vanion looked up and saw the blood-stains on Kalten’s doublet. ‘What happened?’ he asked.