‘That’s probably it,’ Tynian agreed. He looked back at the soldiers straggling disconsolately towards the site of what was very likely to be actual fighting. Church soldiers for the most part did not enlist in order to fight, and they viewed the impending unpleasantness with a vast lack of enthusiasm. ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ Tynian chided them, ‘this won’t do at all. You must try to look like soldiers at least. Please straighten up those ranks and try to march in step. We do have some reputation to maintain, after all.’ He paused a moment. ‘How about a song, gentlemen?’ he suggested. ‘The people are always encouraged when soldiers sing as they march into battle. It’s a demonstration of bravery, after all, and it shows a manly contempt for death and dismemberment.’

The song which rose from the ranks was feeble, and Tynian insisted that the soldiers start again – several times – until the full-throated bawling of the column satisfied his need for a display of martial enthusiasm.

‘You’re a cruel sort of fellow, Tynian,’ Ulath noted.

‘I know,’ Tynian agreed.

Sephrenia’s reaction to the news of the failed attack by the disguised Rendor was almost one of indifference. ‘You’re sure you saw the shadow behind the Archprelate’s throne just before the attack?’ she asked Sparhawk.

He nodded.

‘Our hypothesis still seems quite valid then.’ She said it almost with satisfaction. She looked at the small, poison-smeared dagger lying on the table between them. ‘Hardly the sort of thing you’d want to use against an armoured man,’ she observed.

‘A scratch would have done the trick, little mother.’

‘How could he have scratched you when you were wrapped in steel?’

‘He tried to stab me in the face, Sephrenia.’

‘Keep your visor closed then.’

‘Won’t that look a little ridiculous?’

‘Which do you prefer? Ridiculous or dead? Did any of our friends see the attempt?’

‘Kalten did – or at least he knew that it happened.’

She frowned. ‘I was hoping that we could sort of keep this between ourselves – at least until we know what’s going on.’

‘Kalten knows that someone’s been trying to kill me – they all do, for that matter. They all think it’s just Martel and that he’s up to his usual tricks.’

‘Let’s sort of leave it at that then, shall we?’

‘There have been some desertions, My Lord,’ Kalten reported to Vanion as the group gathered on the steps of the Basilica. ‘There was no way we could keep word of what we were doing from reaching some of those outlying barracks.’

‘It was to be expected,’ Vanion said. ‘Did anybody happen to look over the outer wall to see what Martel’s doing?’