‘Let’s see what Dolmant says first,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I don’t want to give Annias any clues about what we might do at this point. We know why he was stalling now, but let’s see what he does next. It’s going to take Martel a while to deploy his forces anyway, so we’ve got time yet.’

‘Not very much,’ Tynian muttered.

‘The usual course of action in such circumstances is to demolish the bridges,’ Bevier advised. ‘That would delay the approaching armies.’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘There are ten different bridges across those two rivers, Bevier, and we only have four hundred knights. I don’t think we dare risk those men just for the sake of a few hours’ delay.’

‘Not to mention the fact that the Lamorks coming from the north won’t have any bridges to cross at all,’ Tynian added.

The door to the ornate audience chamber opened, and an excited monk hurried to the lectern, his sandals slapping on the polished marble floor and the breath of his passing setting the illuminated dust-motes hanging in the sunny triangles to swirling and dancing. The monk bowed deeply and handed Makova a folded sheet of paper.

Makova quickly read the message, and a thin smile of triumph crossed his pock-marked face. ‘I have just received some important information, my brothers,’ he announced. ‘Two sizeable bodies of pilgrims are approaching Chyrellos. While I know that many of us are other-worldly and abstracted from current events, it’s no secret that certain tensions exist in Eosia at this time. Mightn’t it be wise of us to adjourn so that we may use such resources available to us to gather more information about these men so that we might better assess the situation?’ He looked around. ‘Without objection, it is so ordered. The Hierocracy stands in recess until tomorrow morning.’

‘Pilgrims,’ Ulath snorted contemptuously as he rose to his feet.

Sparhawk, however, sat staring hard across the chamber at the Primate of Cimmura, who looked back at him with a faint smile on his face.

Vanion had risen with the other Patriarchs and looked quickly up at Sparhawk. He made a curt motion with one hand and moved towards the door.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Sparhawk muttered to his friends over the sound of the excited conversation in the chamber. The black-robed Patriarchs were filing slowly towards the door, their progress impeded by knots of their brothers who had stopped to discuss the matter. Sparhawk led his armoured friends out to the stairway and then down to the marble floor of the audience chamber. The big Pandion resisted his impatient impulse to shove assorted clergymen out of his way as he descended.

He encountered Annias near the door. ‘Ah, there you are, Sparhawk,’ the thin, grey-faced Primate of Cimmura said with a faintly malicious smile. ‘Do you plan to visit the city wall to witness the approach of the throngs of the faithful?’