‘Have we any idea of which way Annias went?’ Ehlana asked, her eyes glittering.

‘He and Martel took Princess Arissa and your cousin Lycheas, and they’re all running to Otha for protection, My Queen,’ Sparhawk told her.

‘Is there any way you could intercept them?’ she demanded fiercely.

‘We can try, Your Majesty,’ he shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t hold out much hope, though.’

‘I want him, Sparhawk,’ she said fiercely.

‘I’m very sorry, Your Majesty,’ Patriarch Dolmant interposed, ‘but Annias has committed crimes against the Church. We get him first.’

‘So that you can lock him away in some monastery to pray and sing hymns the rest of his life?’ she asked with disdain. ‘I have much more interesting plans for him, Your Grace. Believe me, if I get my hands on him first, I will not surrender him to the Church – at least not until I’ve finished with him. After that, you can have what’s left.’

‘That will do, Ehlana,’ Dolmant told her sharply. ‘You’re right on the verge of open disobedience to the Church. Don’t make the mistake of pushing this too far. In point of fact, though, it’s not a monastery that’s waiting for Annias. The nature of the crimes he’s committed against the Church merits burning at the stake.’

Their eyes locked, and Sparhawk groaned inwardly.

Then Ehlana laughed, a bit shamefaced. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace,’ she apologized to Dolmant. ‘I spoke in haste. Burning, did you say?’

‘At the very least, Ehlana,’ he replied.

‘I will, of course, defer to our holy mother. I would sooner die than appear undutiful.’

“The Church appreciates your obedience, my daughter,’ Dolmant said blandly.

Ehlana clasped her hands piously and gave him a wholly spurious little smile of contrition.

Dolmant laughed in spite of himself. ‘You’re a naughty girl, Ehlana,’ he chided.

‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I am at that.’

‘This is a very dangerous woman, my friends,’ Wargun told his fellow monarchs. ‘I think we should all make a special point of not getting in her way. All right, what’s next?’

Emban slid lower in his chair and sat tapping his fat fingertips together. ‘We’d more or less decided that we should settle the question of the Archprelacy once and for all, Your Majesty. That was before you even entered the city. It’s going to take some time for you to prepare your forces to march towards central Lamorkand, isn’t it?’ he asked.

‘At least a week,’ Wargun replied glumly, ‘possibly two. I’ve got units strung out half-way back to Arcium – mostly stragglers and supply wagons. It’s going to take a while to get them organized, and troops really get jammed up when they have to cross bridges.’

‘We can give you ten days at most,’ Dolmant told him. ‘Do your staging and organizing as you march.’

‘It’s not done that way, Your Grace,’ Wargun objected.