Sparhawk drew in a deep breath to steady himself, looking around as he did so. The room itself was decorated with the ransom of kings. The walls were covered with hammered gold, and the columns were sheathed in mother-of-pearl. The floor was of polished black onyx and the draperies flanking each door were of blood-red velvet. Torches protruded from the walls at intervals, and very large iron braziers stood one on each side of Otha’s throne.

And then at last, Sparhawk looked at Martel.

‘Ah, Sparhawk,’ the white-haired man drawled urbanely, ‘so good of you to drop by. We’ve been expecting you.’

The words seemed almost casual, but there was the faintest hint of an edge to Martel’s voice. He had not expected them to arrive so soon, and he had certainly not expected their sudden rush. He stood with Annias, Arissa and Lycheas within the safety of the ring of spears while Adus encouraged the spearmen with kicks and curses.

‘We were in the neighbourhood anyway,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘How’ve you been, old boy? You look a bit travel-worn. Was it a difficult journey?’

‘Nothing unbearable.’ Martel inclined his head towards Sephrenia. ‘Little mother,’ he said, sounding once again oddly regretful.

Sephrenia sighed, but said nothing.

‘I see we’re all here,’ Sparhawk continued. ‘I do so enjoy these little get-togethers, don’t you? They give us the chance to reminisce.’ He looked at Annias, whose subordinate position to Martel was now clearly evident. ‘You should have stayed in Chyrellos, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘You missed all the excitement of the election. Would you believe that the Hierocracy actually put Dolmant on the Archprelate’s throne?’

A look of sudden anguish crossed the face of the Primate of Cimmura. ‘Dolmant?’ he choked in a stricken voice. In later years Sparhawk was to conclude that his revenge upon the Primate had been totally complete in that instant. The pain his simple statement had caused his enemy was beyond his ability to comprehend. The life of the Primate of Cimmura crumbled and turned to ashes in that single moment.

‘Astonishing, isn’t it?’ Sparhawk continued relentlessly. ‘Absolutely the last man anyone would have expected. Many in Chyrellos feel that the hand of God was involved. My wife, the Queen of Elenia – you remember her, don’t you? Blonde girl, rather pretty, the one you poisoned – made a speech to the Patriarchs just as they were beginning their deliberations. It was she who suggested him. She was amazingly eloquent, but it’s generally believed that her speech was inspired by God Himself – particularly in view of the fact that Dolmant was elected unanimously.’

‘That’s impossible!’ Annias gasped. ‘You’re lying, Sparhawk!’