The so-called workmen gaped at him stupidly for a moment, then turned to stare in consternation at the city.

‘You always have to yell “fire”,’ Talen explained when he returned. ‘It gets people to thinking in the right direction.’

Then Kurik galloped up to the spies outside the gate of the chapterhouse. ‘You men,’ he barked, ‘there’s a house on fire in Goat Lane. Get in there and help put the fire out before the whole city starts to burn.’

‘But sir,’ one of the workmen objected, ‘we were ordered to stay here and keep an eye on the Pandions.’

‘Do you have anything you value inside the city walls?’ Kurik asked him bluntly. ‘If that fire gets away from us, you can stand here and keep an eye on it while it burns. Now move, all of you! I’m going up to that fortress to see if I can persuade the Pandions to lend a hand.’

The workmen looked at him, then dropped their tools and ran towards the illusory conflagration as Kurik rode on towards the drawbridge of the chapterhouse.

‘Slick,’ Sparhawk complimented Talen.

‘Thieves do it all the time,’ the boy shrugged. ‘We have to use real fire, though. People run outside to gawk at fires. That provides an excellent opportunity to look around inside their houses for things of value.’ He looked towards the city gate. ‘Our friends seem to be out of sight. Why don’t we ride on before they come back?’

Two Pandion Knights in black armour rode gravely out to meet them as they reached the drawbridge. ‘Is that a fire in the city, Sparhawk?’ one of them asked in some alarm.

‘Not really,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Sephrenia’s entertaining the church soldiers.’

The other knight grinned at Sephrenia. Then he straightened. ‘Who art thou who entreateth entry into the house of the Soldiers of God?’ he began the ritual.

‘We don’t have time for that, brother,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘We’ll go through it twice next time. Who’s in charge here now?’

‘Lord Vanion.’

That was surprising. Preceptor Vanion had been much involved in the campaign in Arcium when last Sparhawk had heard of him. ‘Do you have any idea of where I might locate him?’

‘He’s in his tower, Sparhawk,’ the second knight advised.

Sparhawk grunted. ‘How many knights are here right now, brother?’

‘About a hundred.’

‘Good. I may need them.’ Sparhawk nudged Faran with his heels. The big roan turned his head to look at his master with some surprise. ‘We’re busy now, Faran,’ Sparhawk explained to his horse. ‘We’ll go through the ritual some other time.’

Faran’s expression was disapproving as he started across the drawbridge.

‘Sir Sparhawk!’ a ringing voice came from the stable door. It was the novice, Berit, a rangy, raw-boned young man whose face was split with a broad grin.