‘To irritate an old friend,’ Sparhawk grinned mirthlessly. He led the boy up the stairs to an upper gallery where the emaciated Primate of Cimmura sat with a writing desk in front of him and a fair number of black-robed sycophants on either side. Sparhawk and Talen went to places on the bench directly behind Annias. Sparhawk saw that Ulath, Berit and Tynian were following, and he waved them off warningly even as Dolmant and Emban escorted the armoured Preceptors to places on the lower, cushioned tiers.

Sparhawk knew that Annias sometimes blurted things out when he was surprised, and he wanted to find out if his enemy had in any way been involved in the attempted mass poisoning at Dolmant’s house that morning. ‘Why, can that possibly be the Primate of Cimmura?’ he said in feigned surprise. ‘What on earth are you doing so far away from home, Annias?’

Annias turned to glare at him. ‘What are you up to, Sparhawk?’ he hissed.

‘Observing, that’s all,’ Sparhawk replied, removing his helmet and depositing his gauntlets in it. He unbuckled his shield and removed his sword-belt. He leaned them against the back of Annias’s seat. ‘Will those be in your way, neighbour?’ he asked mildly. ‘It’s a bit hard to sit down comfortably when you’re so encumbered with the tools of your trade, you know.’ He sat. ‘How have you been, Annias? I haven’t seen you for months now.’ He paused. ‘You’re looking a bit gaunt and pasty-faced, old boy. You really ought to get more fresh air and exercise.’

‘Be still, Sparhawk,’ Annias snapped. ‘I’m trying to listen.’

‘Oh, of course. We can have a nice long talk later – catch up on each other’s accomplishments and the like.’ There was nothing out of the ordinary in Annias’s reaction, and Sparhawk became a little less certain of the man’s guilt.

‘If it pleases you, my brothers,’ Dolmant was saying, ‘a number of events have recently occurred, and I feel obligated to report them to the Hierocracy. Though our primary tasks are ageless, we nonetheless function in the world and must keep abreast of current events.’

Makova looked questioningly up towards Annias. The Primate took up a quill and a scrap of paper. Sparhawk rested his arms on the back of his enemy’s seat and looked over the man’s shoulder as he scribbled the terse instruction, ‘Let him talk.’

‘Tiresome, isn’t it, Annias,’ Sparhawk said in a pleasant tone. ‘It would be so much more convenient if you could do your own talking, wouldn’t it?’

‘I told you to shut up, Sparhawk,’ Annias grated, handing his note to a young monk to carry to Makova.

‘My, aren’t we testy this morning,’ Sparhawk observed. ‘Didn’t you sleep well last night, Annias?’

Annias turned to glare at his tormentor. ‘Who’s that?’ he demanded, pointing at Talen.