Sparhawk was elated as he and his companions joined the crush at the door to the audience chamber. Although Martel was still a grave threat to the Holy City, they had succeeded in wresting control of the Hierocracy from Annias and his underlings, and the weakness of the Primate of Cimmura’s grasp on his votes was clearly demonstrated by the defection of four of his bought and paid-for Patriarchs. As he started to move slowly from the chamber, he felt again that now-familiar sense of overpowering dread. He half-turned. This time, he even partially saw it. The shadow was back behind the Archprelate’s throne, seeming to undulate softly in the dimness. Sparhawk’s hand went to the front of his surcoat to make sure that Bhelliom was still where it belonged. The jewel was secure, and he knew that the drawstring on the pouch was tightly tied. It appeared that his reasoning had been slightly faulty. The shadow could make an appearance independently of the Bhelliom. It was even here inside the most consecrated building of the Elene faith. He had thought that here of all places he would be free of it, but it was not so. Troubled, he continued with his friends from the room which now seemed dark and chill.

The attempt on Sparhawk’s life came almost immediately after he saw the shadow. A cowled monk, one of the many in the crowd at the door, spun suddenly and drove a small dagger directly at the big Pandion’s un-visored face. It was only Sparhawk’s trained reflexes that saved him. Without thinking, he blocked the dagger stroke with his armoured forearm and then seized the monk. With a despairing cry, the monk drove his little dagger into his own side. He stiffened abruptly, and Sparhawk felt a violent shudder pass through the body of the man he was holding. Then the monk’s face went blank, and he sagged limply.

‘Kalten!’ Sparhawk hissed to his friend. ‘Give me a hand! Keep him on his feet.’

Kalten stepped swiftly to the other side of the monk’s body and took his arm.

‘Is our brother unwell?’ another monk asked them as they half-carried the body out through the door.

‘Fainted,’ Kalten replied in an offhand manner. ‘Some people can’t stand crowds. My friend and I will take him into some side chamber and let him get his breath.’

‘Slick,’ Sparhawk muttered a quick compliment.

‘You see, Sparhawk, I can think on my feet.’ Kalten jerked his head towards the door of a nearby antechamber. ‘Let’s take him in there and have a look at him.’

They dragged the body into the chamber and closed the door behind them. Kalten pulled the dagger from the monk’s side. ‘Not much of a weapon,’ he said disdainfully.

‘It was enough,’ Sparhawk growled. ‘One little nick with it stiffened him up like a plank.’

‘Poison?’ Kalten guessed.