D’Averc coughed ostentatiously, but said nothing. Trott now did something that in a Dark Empire noble was virtually unprecedented, for he cheerfully pushed back his mask and began to eat. In Granbretan it was considered gross indecency both to display the face and to eat in public. Trott, Hawkmoon knew, had always been thought eccentric in Granbretan, tolerated by the other nobles only by virtue of his vast private fortune, his skill as a general and, in spite of his flabby appearance, a warrior of considerable personal courage.

The face revealed was the one caricatured on the mask. It was white, plump and intelligent. The eyes were without expression, but it was plain Shenegar Trott could put whatever expression he chose into them.

They ate in relative silence. Only the boy touched none of the food, though he sat with them.

At length Hawkmoon gestured to the count’s bulky silver armour. “Why do you travel in such heavy accoutrement, Count Shenegar, if you are on a peaceful mission of exploration?”

Shenegar Trott smiled. “Whyhow was I to anticipate what dangers I should have to face in this strange city? Surely it is logical to travel well-prepared?” D’Averc changed the subject as if he realised they

would receive nothing but smooth answers from the Granbretanian. “How goes the war in Europe?” he asked.

“There is no war in Europe,” Trott answered.

“No war! Then why should we be hereexiles from our own lands?” Hawkmoon said.

“There is no war, because all of Europe is now at peace under the patronage of our good King Huon,” Shenegar Trott said, and then he gave a faint winkalmost a comradely winkwhich made it impossible for Hawkmoon to reply.

“Save for the Kamarg, that is,” Trott continued. “And that, of course, has vanished altogether. My fellow peer Baron Meliadus was quite enraged by that.”

“I’m sure he was,” said Hawkmoon. “And does he still continue his vendetta against us?”

Indeed he does. In fact when I left Londra, he was in danger of becoming a laughing stock at court.”

“You seem to feel little affection for Baron Meliadus,” D’Averc suggested.

“You understand me well,” Count Shenegar told him. “You see we are not all such insane and greedy men as you would think. I have many disputes with Baron Meliadus. Though I am loyal to my motherland and my leader, I do not agree with everything done in their namesindeed, what I myself have done. I follow my orders. I am a patriot.” Shenegar Trott shrugged his bulky shoulders. “I would prefer to stay at home, reading and writing. I was once thought a promising poet, you know.”

“But now you write only epitaphsand those in blood and fire,” Hawkmoon said.