‘So would I,’ Vanion agreed, ‘but we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got until he gets here, I’m afraid.’

‘There’s something else we need to concern ourselves with, gentlemen,’ Emban said gravely. ‘Assuming that all goes well, the Hierocracy’s going to go back into session just as soon as Martel’s been driven off. Abandoning the outer city is going to alienate a sizeable number of Patriarchs. If you let a man’s house be looted and burned, he’s not going to be very fond of you or want to vote for you. We’ve got to find some way to prove the connection between Annias and Martel. If we don’t, we’re doing all this just for the exercise. I can talk as fast as the next man, but I can’t perform miracles. I need something to work with.’

It was about midnight when Sparhawk climbed the stairs to the wall of the old city not far from the south gate, the most defensible of the four and the one it had been decided to leave unblocked. Chyrellos was burning in earnest now. A looter, upon entering a house to find it already empty, feels a certain angry frustration, and he usually vents those feelings by setting fire to the place. Such behaviour is totally predictable and, in a certain sense, quite natural. The looters, their faces more desperate now as the number of unpillaged houses diminished, ran from building to building waving torches and weapons. Kurik, always practical, had stationed the church soldiers he was training with crossbows on the walls, and the looters provided those men with moving targets upon which to practise. There were not too many hits, but the soldiers appeared to be improving.

Then, from a narrow street at the edge of the zone of collapsed houses just beyond practical crossbow range, a sizeable number of well-armed men on horseback emerged. The man in the lead was astride a glossy black horse, and he wore embossed Deiran armour. He removed his helmet. It was Martel, and close behind him were the brutish Adus and the weasel-like Krager.

Kurik joined Sparhawk and his blond friend. ‘I can order the soldiers to shoot at them, if you’d like,’ the squire said to Sparhawk. ‘Somebody might get lucky.’

Sparhawk scratched his chin. ‘No, I don’t think so, Kurik,’ he said.

‘You’re passing up an awfully good opportunity, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said. ‘If Martel catches a stray crossbow bolt in the eye, that whole army out there will fall apart.’

‘Not just yet,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s see if I can irritate him just a bit first. Martel sometimes blurts things out when he’s irritated. Let’s see if I can jolt something out of him.’

‘That’s a fair distance for shouting,’ Kalten said.

‘I don’t have to shout,’ Sparhawk smiled.