‘There’s one restriction, however,’ Dolmant went on. ‘Under the circumstances, we could hardly set you free until such time as your former master is apprehended. By your own admission, you’re not very dependable. Besides, we’ll need a little confirmation of what you tell us.’

‘Perfectly understandable, Your Grace,’ Krager agreed. ‘But no dungeons. My lungs aren’t very strong, and I really should avoid damp places.’

‘A monastery then?’ Dolmant countered.

‘Totally acceptable, Your Grace – on the condition that Sparhawk is not permitted to come within ten miles of the place. Sparhawk’s irrational sometimes, and he’s wanted to kill me for years now – haven’t you, Sparhawk?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Sparhawk admitted freely. ‘I’ll tell you what, Krager. I’ll pledge myself to keep my hands off you until after Martel is dead.’

‘Fair enough, Sparhawk,’ Krager replied – ‘if you’ll also vow to give me a week’s head start before you come after me. Do we have a bargain, gentlemen?’

‘Tynian,’ Preceptor Darellon said, ‘take him out into the hallway while we discuss this.’

Krager rose shakily to his feet. ‘Come along then, Sir Knight,’ he said to Tynian. ‘You too, Kalten, and don’t forget to bring the wine.’

‘Well?’ King Wargun asked after the closely-guarded prisoner had left the room.

‘Krager himself is unimportant, Your Majesty,’ Vanion said, ‘but he’s absolutely right about the importance of the information he has. I’d advise accepting his terms.’

‘I hate to give him all that gold, though,’ Wargun growled moodily.

‘In Krager’s case, it’s not really a gift,’ Sephrenia said quietly. ‘If you give Krager that much money, he’ll drink himself to death within six months.’

‘That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment to me.’

‘Have you ever seen a man die of the after-effects of drink, Wargun?’ she asked.

‘I can’t say that I have.’

‘You might stop by an asylum sometime and watch the process. You may find it very educational.’

‘Are we agreed then?’ Dolmant asked, looking around. ‘We give this sewer-rat what he asks and confine him to the monastery until such time as we know that he can’t report anything significant to Martel?’

‘All right,’ Wargun gave in grudgingly. ‘Bring him back in and let’s get on with this.’

Sparhawk went to the door and opened it. A scarred man with a shaved head was speaking urgently with Tynian.

‘Kring?’ Sparhawk asked with some surprise, recognizing the Domi of the band of marauding horsemen from the eastern marches of Pelosia. ‘Is that you?’

‘Well, Sparhawk,’ Kring said. ‘It’s good to see you again. I was just bringing friend Tynian here some news. Did you know that the Zemochs are massed in eastern Lamorkand?’

‘We’d heard about it, yes. We were more or less planning to take steps.’