The Diamond Throne. David Eddings

you, neighbours,’ Sparhawk said pleasantly.

      They did not answer him.

      He reined Faran in. ‘I said, thank you, neighbours.’

      ‘You’re welcome,’ one of them replied sullenly.

      Sparhawk waited.

      ‘… My Lord,’ the soldier added grudgingly.

      ‘Much better, friend.’ Sparhawk rode on.

      The gate to the inn was closed, and Sparhawk leaned over and banged on its timbers with his gauntleted fist. The porter who swung it open for him was not the same knight who had admitted him the evening before. Sparhawk swung down from Faran’s back and handed him the reins.

      ‘Will you be needing him again, my Lord?’ the knight asked.

      ‘Yes. I’ll be going right back out. Would you saddle my squire’s horse, Sir Knight?’

      ‘Of course, my Lord.’

      ‘I appreciate that.’ Sparhawk laid one hand on Faran’s neck. ‘Behave yourself,’ he said.

      Faran looked away, his expression lofty.

      Sparhawk clinked up the stairs and rapped on the door of the room at the top.

      Kurik opened the door for him. ‘Well? How did it go?’

      ‘Not bad.’

      ‘You came out alive, anyway. Did you see the Queen?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘That’s surprising.’

      ‘I sort of insisted. Do you want to get your things together? You’re going back to Demos.’

      ‘You didn’t say “we”, Sparhawk.’

      ‘I’m staying here.’

      ‘I suppose there are good reasons.’

      ‘Lycheas has ordered me back to the motherhouse. I more or less plan to ignore him, but I want to be able to move around Cimmura without being followed. There’s a young novice at the chapterhouse who’s about my size. We’ll put him in my armour and mount him on Faran. Then the two of you can ride to Demos with a grand show of obedience. As long as he keeps his visor down, the primate’s spies will think I’m obeying orders.’

      ‘It’s workable, I suppose. I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone, though.’

      ‘I won’t be alone. Kalten’s coming in either today or tomorrow.’

      ‘That’s a little better. Kalten’s steady.’ Kurik frowned. ‘I thought that he’d been exiled to Lamorkand. Who ordered him back?’

      ‘Vanion didn’t say, but you know Kalten. Maybe he just got bored with Lamorkand and took independent action.’

      ‘How long do you want me to stay at Demos?’ Kurik asked as he began to gather up his things.

      ‘A month or so at least. The road’s likely to be watched. I’ll get word to you. Do you need any money?’

      ‘I always need money, Sparhawk.’

      ‘There’s some in the pocket of that tunic.’ Sparhawk pointed at his travel clothes draped across the back of a chair. ‘Take what you need.’

      Kurik grinned at him.

      ‘Leave me a little, though.’

      ‘Of course, my Lord,’ Kurik said with a mocking bow. ‘Do you want me to pack up your things?’

      ‘No. I’ll be coming back here when Kalten arrives. It’s a little hard to get in and out of the chapterhouse without being seen. Is the back door to that tavern still open?’

      ‘It was yesterday. I drop in there from time to time.’

      ‘I thought you might.’

      ‘A man needs a few vices, Sparhawk. It gives him something to repent when he goes to chapel.’

      ‘If Aslade hears that you’ve been drinking, she’ll set fire to your beard.’

      ‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t hear about it, won’t we, my Lord?’

      ‘Why do I always get mixed up in your domestic affairs?’

      ‘It keeps your feet planted in reality. Get your own wife, Sparhawk. Then other women won’t feel obliged to take special note of you. A married man is safe. A bachelor is a constant challenge to any woman alive.’

      About half an hour later, Sparhawk and his squire went down the stairs into the courtyard, mounted their horses, and rode out through the gate. They clattered along the cobblestone streets towards the east gate of the city.

      ‘We’re being watched, you know,’ Kurik said quietly.

      ‘I certainly hope so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’d hate to have to ride around in circles until we attract somebody’s attention.’

      They went through the ritual again at the drawbridge of the chapterhouse and then rode on into the courtyard. Berit was waiting for them.

      ‘This is Kurik,’ Sparhawk told him as he dismounted. ‘The two of you will be going to Demos. Kurik, the young man’s name is Berit.’

      The squire looked the acolyte up and down. ‘He’s the right size,’ he noted. ‘I might have to shorten a few straps, but your armour should come close to fitting him.’

      ‘I thought so myself.’

      Another novice came out and took their reins.

      ‘Come along then, you two,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go and tell Vanion what we’re going to do, and then we’ll put my armour on our masquerader here.’

      Berit looked startled.

      ‘You’re being promoted, Berit,’ Kurik told him. ‘You see how quickly one can move up in the Pandions? Yesterday a novice; today Queen’s Champion.’

      ‘I’ll explain it to you when we see Vanion,’ Sparhawk told Berit. ‘It’s not so interesting a story that I want to go over it more than once.’

      It was midafternoon when the three of them emerged from the chapterhouse door again. Berit walked awkwardly in the unaccustomed armour, and Sparhawk was dressed in a plain tunic and hose.

      ‘I think it’s going to rain,’ Kurik said, squinting at the sky.

      ‘You won’t melt,’ Sparhawk told him.

      ‘I’m not worried about that,’ the squire replied. ‘It’s just that I’ll have to scour the rust off your armour again.’

      ‘Life is hard.’

      Kurik grunted, and then the two of them boosted Berit up into Faran’s saddle. ‘You’re going to take this young man to Demos,’ Sparhawk told his horse. ‘Try to behave as if it were me on your back.’

      Faran gave him an inquiring look.

      ‘It would take much too long to explain. It’s entirely up to you, Faran, but he’s wearing my armour, so if you try to bite him, you’ll probably break your teeth.’ Sparhawk turned to his squire. ‘Say hello to Aslade and the boys for me,’ he said.

      ‘Right,’ Kurik nodded. Then he swung up into his saddle.

      ‘Don’t make too big a show when you leave,’ Sparhawk added, ‘but make sure that you’re seen – and make sure that Berit keeps his visor down.’

      ‘I know what I’m doing, Sparhawk. Come along then, my Lord,’ Kurik said to Berit.

      ‘My Lord?’

      ‘You might as well get used to it, Berit.’ Kurik pulled his horse around. ‘I’ll see you, Sparhawk.’