The boatman shoved the vessel into the current with a boathook and they picked up speed. The right bank, beyond the city wall, was covered with the dense buildings of the Old Town, while the left bank was more rustic—almost entirely taken up by vineyards that at one time, before the revolution, mainly belonged to the monasteries.

“Ahead of us is Saint Francis’s, if I’m not mistaken.” The penitent pointed to a church tower on the right bank. “Shall we disembark?”

“Not yet. We’ll sail over to the weir—it’s a stone’s throw to Soukenická Street.”

“Scharley.”

“Yes.”

“Slow down for a moment. We’re in no hurry, and I’d like to…”

Scharley stopped and waved at the girls in the soapmaking workshop, causing a concert of giggles. He shook a fist at some kids who were sticking out their tongues and shouting childish insults. He stretched and glanced at the sun peeping out from behind the church spire.

“I can guess what you want,” Scharley said.

“I listened to your reflections about historical processes,” replied Reynevan, “although Samson tells me every day that revenge is a vain thing. King Xerxes lashing the sea is pathetic and ridiculous. All the same…”

“I’m listening with attentiveness. And growing anxiety.”

“I’d love to get my hands on the whoresons that killed Peterlin. That Birkart Grellenort in particular.”

Scharley shook his head and sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. Do you recall, my dear Reinmar, Silesia two years ago? And the black riders shouting: ‘We are here!’? The bats in the Cistercian forest? Huon of Sagar saved our arses then. Had Huon not made it in time, the hide from our arses would be hanging today, beautifully dried, above Birkart’s fireplace. I pass over the minor fact that Birkart is clearly a minion of Bishop Konrad, the most powerful individual in the whole of Silesia, a man who merely has to bend his little finger to have us impaled. And that Grellenort himself isn’t just some ordinary thug, but a sorcerer. The fellow can turn into a bird, and you want to catch him, you say? And how, I wonder?”

“A way could be found. It always can; all that’s needed are good intentions. And a little cunning. I know it’s madness to return to Silesia, but even insane enterprises can succeed if the plan is feasible. Am I right?”

Scharley looked at him keenly. “I observe,” he announced, “the evident and fascinating influence of your new connexions. I have in mind, naturally, the notorious company from the House at the Archangel apothecary shop. I don’t doubt that one can learn an enormous amount from them. The snag is to select something worth learning from that wealth. How does that apply to you?”

“I’m doing my best.”