‘Sir Sparhawk?’ the novice called into the darkness, ‘are you down there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank God. I think I’ve walked down every burned-out alley in Chyrellos looking for you.’

Kurik banged one fist against a wall.

‘Talk to him about it later,’ Sparhawk said. ‘All right, Berit,’ he called, ‘you’ve found me. What’s important enough for you to go around risking your skin to try to share it?’

Berit came down the street to join them. ‘The Rendors appear to be gathering near the west gate, Sir Sparhawk. There are thousands of them.’

‘What are they doing?’

‘I think they’re praying. They’re having some kind of ceremony at any rate. There’s a skinny, bearded fellow standing on a pile of rubble haranguing them.’

‘Could you hear any of what he was saying?’

‘Not very much, Sir Sparhawk, but he did say one word fairly often, and all the rest bellowed out the word each time he said it.’

‘What was the word?’ Kurik demanded.

‘Ramshorn, I think it was, Kurik.’

‘That’s got a familiar ring to it, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘It appears that Martel brought Ulesim along to keep the Rendors in line.’

Berit gave him a puzzled look. ‘Who’s Ulesim, Sir Sparhawk?’

‘The current spiritual leader of the Rendors. There’s a twisted piece of a sheep’s horn that’s a kind of badge of office.’ He thought of something. ‘The Rendors are just sitting around listening to sermons?’ he asked the novice.

‘If that’s what you want to call all that babbling, yes.’

‘Why don’t we go back and talk with Vanion?’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘This might be very useful.’

The Preceptors and Sparhawk’s friends were not far behind. ‘I think we’ve just had a bit of luck, My Lords,’ Sparhawk reported. ‘Berit’s been out wandering around in the streets. He says that the Rendors are all gathered near the west gate and that their leader’s whipping them into a frenzy.’

‘You actually let a novice go out there alone, Sir Sparhawk?’ Abriel asked disapprovingly.

‘Kurik’s going to talk to him about that later, My Lord.’

‘What was this leader’s name again?’ Vanion asked thoughtfully.

‘Ulesim, my Lord. I’ve met him. He’s a total idiot.’

‘What would the Rendors do if something happened to him?’

‘They’d disintegrate, My Lord. Martel said that he was going to order them to tear down the bridges. Apparently they haven’t started yet. Rendors need a lot of encouragement and some rather careful directions before they start on anything. Anyway, they look upon their religious leader as a semi-divinity. They won’t do anything without his express command.’

‘That might just be the way to save your bridges, Abriel,’ Vanion said. ‘If something happens to this Ulesim, the Rendors may just forget what they’re supposed to do. Why don’t we gather up our forces and pay them a call?’