Sparhawk rolled up the warrant and tapped it against his cheek. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘We’re going to take you to the Alcione chapterhouse and confine you there. These charges originated in the kingdom of Elenia, and any ecclesiastical proceedings would have to be conducted by the head of the Church in that kingdom. Since Primate Annias is acting for the Patriarch of Cimmura during His Grace’s incapacity, that makes him the man who would preside over this hearing. Strange how things work out, isn’t it? Since Primate Annias is the one in authority in this matter, we’ll freely turn you over to him. All he has to do is to come out of the Basilica, go to the Alcione chapterhouse and order us to turn you over to him.’ He glanced at a red-tunicked officer being guarded by the bleak-looking Sir Perraine. ‘The captain of your guard here will serve as an excellent messenger. Why don’t you have a word with him and explain the situation? Then we’ll send him to the Basilica to tell Annias about it. Tell him to ask the good Primate to come and visit us. We’ll be overjoyed to see him on neutral ground, won’t we, Kalten?’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Kalten replied fervently.

The Patriarch of Cardos gave them a suspicious look, then quickly conferred with the captain of his guard detachment. He kept glancing at the rolled-up warrant in Sparhawk’s hand as he spoke.

‘Do you think he got the point?’ Kalten murmured.

‘I certainly hope so. I did everything but hit him over the head with it.’

The Patriarch of Cardos returned, his face stiff with anger.

‘Oh, one other thing, Captain,’ Sparhawk said to the church soldier, who was preparing to leave. ‘Would you be so good as to convey a personal message to the Primate of Cimmura for us? Tell him that Sir Sparhawk of the Pandion Order invites him to come out from under the dome of Basilica to play in the streets – where certain petty little restrictions won’t interfere with our fun.’

Kurik arrived that evening. He was travel-stained and looked weary. Berit escorted him into Dolmant’s study, and he sank into a chair. ‘I’d have been here a bit sooner,’ he apologized, ‘but I stopped off in Demos to see Aslade and the boys. She gets very cross when I ride through town and don’t stop.’

‘How is Aslade?’ Patriarch Dolmant asked.

‘Fatter,’ Kurik smiled, ‘and I think she’s getting a little silly as the years creep up on her. She was feeling nostalgic, so she took me up into the hayloft.’ His jaw set slightly. ‘I had a long talk with the boys about letting thistles grow in the hayfield later, though.’

‘Do you have any idea of what he’s talking about, Sparhawk?’ Dolmant asked in perplexity.

‘Yes, Your Grace.’