‘I feel much the same way, Sir Knight,’ the monk smiled. ‘Makova tends to put me to sleep for some reason.’ Sparhawk grinned at him. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I suppose we should both pray for greater patience – one of these days.’

Makova looked around desperately, but none of his friends saw fit to speak – either because of a lack of anything flattering to say about him, or because they could see which way a vote would go. ‘Vote,’ he said somewhat sullenly.

‘Good idea, Makova,’ Emban smiled. ‘Let’s move right along. Time’s fleeing even as we speak.’

The vote this time was sixty-five for Dolmant’s assuming the chair and fifty-five against. Another of the supporters of the Primate of Cimmura had defected.

‘My brother from Demos,’ Emban said to Dolmant when the tally had been completed and announced, ‘would you be so kind as to assume the chair?’

Dolmant came forward while Makova angrily gathered up his papers and stalked away from the lectern.

‘You honour me beyond my ability to express my gratitude, my brothers,’ Dolmant said. ‘For the moment, let me merely say thank you so that we may more quickly deal with the crisis at hand. Our most immediate need is for a greater force under the command of the Knights of the Church. How may we address that need?’

Emban had not even bothered to sit down. ‘The force of which our revered chairman speaks is at hand, my brothers,’ he said to the assemblage. ‘Each of us has a detachment of church soldiers at his disposal. In view of the current crisis, I propose that we immediately turn control of those troops over to the militant orders.’

‘Will you strip us of our only protection, Emban?’ Makova protested.

‘The protection of the Holy City is far more important, Makova,’ Emban told him. ‘Will history say of us that we were so cowardly that we refused our aid to our holy mother in her time of need out of timidity and a craven concern for our own skins? Pray God that no such poltroon contaminates us by his presence in our midst. What says the Hierocracy? Shall we make this insignificant sacrifice for the sake of the Church?’

The rumble of assent this time was slightly pained in some quarters.

‘Will any Patriarch call for a vote on the matter?’ Dolmant asked with cool correctness. He looked around at the now-silent tiers. ‘Then let the recorder set down the fact that the suggestion of the Patriarch of Ucera was accepted by general acclamation. The scribes will then draw up suitable documents which each member of the Hierocracy will sign, transferring command of his personal detachment of church soldiers over to the militant orders for the defence of the city.’ He paused. ‘Will someone please ask the commander of the Archprelate’s personal guard to present himself before the Hierocracy?’