“Now who is the pessimist, brother?”

Returning to his apartments, Meliadus discovered that he had a visitor. A fat visitor clad in gaudy silk-covered armour with a brightly painted helm representing a savage and grinning hound.

“Baron Adaz Promp,” said Flana Mikosevaar, emerging from another room. “He arrived shortly after you left, Meliadus.”

“Baron,” Meliadus said, bowing formally. “I am honoured.”

Adaz Promp’s smooth tones came from the helm. “What are the issues, Meliadus? What are the goals?”

“The issuesour plans of conquest. The goalsto put a more rational monarch on the throne of Granbretan. One who will respect the advice of experienced warriors such as ourselves.”

“Respect your advice, you mean!” Promp chuckled. “Well, I have to admit that I thought you insane, my lord, not Huon. Your pursuing this wild vendetta against Hawkmoon and Castle Brass, for instance. I suspected that it was motivated only by your private lust and vengeance.”

“You no longer believe that?”

“I do not care. I am beginning to share your opinion that they represent the greatest danger to Granbretan and that they should be exterminated before we think of anything else.”

“Why have you changed your mind, Adaz?” Meliadus leaned forward eagerly. “Why? You have some evidence not known to me?”

“More a suspicion or two,” Adaz Promp said slowly, fatly. “A hint of this, a hint of that.”

“What sort of hints?”

“A ship we encountered and boarded in the northern

seas as we were returning from Scandia to answer our emperor’s call. A rumour from France. Nothing more.”

“What of the ship? What ship was it?”

“One like those anchored on the river, only much largerwith the strange contraption on its arse and no sails. It was battered, drifting and had two men aboard, both wounded. They died before we could transfer them to our own vessel.”

“Shenegar Trott’s ship. From Amarehk.”

“Ayethat’s what they told us.”

“But what has it to do with Hawkmoon?”

“It appears they met Hawkmoon in Amarehk. It seems they received their wounds from Hawkmoon in some bloody battle in a city called Dnark. According to these menand they were ravingthe issue of the dispute was the Runestaff itself.”

“And Hawkmoon won the dispute.”

“Indeed he did. There were two thousand of them, we were toldTrott’s men, that isand only four, including Hawkmoon, against them.”

“And Hawkmoon won!”

“Ayeaided by supernatural warriors according to he who lived long enough to babble the tale. It all sounds like truth mixed with fantasy, but it is plain that Hawkmoon defeated a force much larger than his own and that he personally slew Shenegar Trott. It does seem, also, that he has certain scientific powers at his disposal of which we know little. This is confirmed by the manner in which they managed to escape from us the last time. Which brings me to my second tale, picked up from one of your own Wolves as we marched to Londra.”

“What’s that,”