‘I am composed, Your Grace,’ Delada retorted, ramming his sword back into its scabbard. ‘I’m not nearly as angry now as I was a few hours ago. I haven’t once questioned the honour of the Patriarch of Coombe.’

‘Spirited, isn’t he?’ Tynian whispered to Ulath.

‘Red-haired people are like that sometimes,’ Ulath replied sagely.

‘Did you want to ask the colonel any more questions, Makova?’ Emban inquired with an innocent expression.

Makova stalked back to his seat, refusing to answer.

‘Wise decision,’ Emban murmured just loud enough to be heard.

A nervous laugh ran through the Hierocracy.

It was not so much the information that Annias had been behind the attack on the city that so shocked and outraged the Hierocracy – they were all ranking churchmen, and they fully understood the lengths to which ambition could drive a man. Although Annias’s methods were extreme and totally reprehensible, the Hierocracy could understand his motives and perhaps even secretly admire a man willing to go to such lengths to achieve his goal. It was his alliance with Otha, however, that went completely beyond the pale. Many of the Patriarchs who had quite willingly sold their votes to Annias squirmed uncomfortably as they began to realize the full extent of the depravity of the man to whom they had allied themselves.

Lastly, Dolmant called Krager, and the Patriarch of Demos made no attempt whatsoever to conceal Krager’s character and fundamental unreliability.