does that have to do with it?’
‘What did you want to see me about?’
‘It’s going to take something rather spectacular to get us out of here,’ she replied, ‘and I may need your help and that of the others to manage it.’
‘All you have to do is ask. Have you got any ideas?’
‘A few. Our first problem is Ortzel, though. If he bows his neck on this, we’ll never get him out of the castle.’
‘Suppose I just hit him on the head before we leave and tie him across his saddle until we’re safely away?’
‘Sparhawk,’ she chided him.
‘It was a thought,’ he shrugged. ‘What about Flute here?’
‘What about her?’
‘She made those soldiers on the docks at Vardenais and the spies outside the chapterhouse ignore us. Couldn’t she do that here too?’
‘Do you realize how large that army outside the gate is, Sparhawk? She’s just a little girl, after all.’
‘Oh. I didn’t know that would make a difference.’
‘Of course it does.’
‘Couldn’t you put Ortzel to sleep?’ Talen asked her. ‘You know, sort of wiggle your fingers at him until he drops off?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Then he won’t know you used magic to get us out of here until he wakes up.’
‘Interesting notion,’ she conceded. ‘How did you come up with it?’
‘I’m a thief, Sephrenia,’ he grinned impudently. ‘I wouldn’t be very good at it if I couldn’t think faster than the other fellow.’
‘However we manage Ortzel is beside the point,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Our main concern is getting Alstrom’s co-operation. He might be a little reluctant to risk his brother’s life on something he doesn’t understand. I’ll talk with him in the morning.’
‘Be very persuasive, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said.
‘I’ll try. Come along, Talen. Let the ladies get some sleep. Kalten and I have a spare bed in our room. You can sleep there. Sephrenia, don’t be afraid to call on me and the others if you need help with any spells.’
‘I’m never afraid, Sparhawk – not when I have you to protect me.’
‘Stop that,’ he told her. Then he smiled. ‘Sleep well, Sephrenia.’
‘You too, dear one.’
‘Good night, Flute,’ he added.
She blew him a little trill on her pipes.
The following morning, Sparhawk rose early and went back into the main part of the castle. As chance had it, he encountered Sir Enmann in the long, torchlit corridor. ‘How do things stand?’ he asked the Lamork knight.
Enmann’s face was grey with fatigue. He had obviously been up all night. ‘We’ve had some successes, Sir Sparhawk,’ he replied. ‘We repelled a fairly serious assault on the castle’s main gate about midnight, and we’re moving our own engines into place. We should be able to begin destroying Gerrich’s siege machines – and his ships – before noon.’
‘Will he pull back at that point?’
Enmann shook his head. ‘More likely, he’ll begin digging earthwork fortifications. It’s probable that the siege will be protracted.’
Sparhawk nodded. ‘I thought that might be the case,’ he agreed. ‘Have you any idea where I might find Baron Alstrom? I need to talk with him – out of the hearing of his brother.’
‘My Lord Alstrom is atop the battlements at the front of the castle, Sir Sparhawk. He wants Gerrich to be able to see him. That may goad the count into some rash move. He’s alone there. His brother is customarily in chapel at this hour.’
‘Good. I’ll go talk with the baron then.’
It was windy atop the battlements. Sparhawk had drawn his cloak about his armour to conceal it, and the wind whipped it around his legs.
‘Ah, good morning, Sir Sparhawk,’ Baron Alstrom said. His voice was weary. He wore a full suit of armour, and the visor of his helmet had that peculiar pointed construction common in Lamorkand.
‘Good morning, My Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, staying back from the battlements. ‘Is there somewhere back out of sight where we can talk? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let Gerrich know that there are Church Knights inside your walls just yet, and I’m sure he has a number of sharp-eyed men watching you.’
‘The tower there above the gate,’ Alstrom suggested. ‘Come along, Sir Sparhawk.’ And he led the way along the parapet.
The room inside the tower was grimly functional. A dozen crossbowmen stood at the narrow embrasures along its front, unloosing their bolts at the troops below.
‘You men,’ Alstrom commanded, ‘I have need of this room. Go shoot from the battlements for a while.’
The soldiers filed out, their metal-shod feet clinking on the stone floor.
‘We have a problem, My Lord,’ Sparhawk said when the two of them were alone.
‘I noticed that,’ Alstrom said drily, glancing out of one of the embrasures at the troops massed before his walls.
Sparhawk grinned at this rare flash of humour in a usually dour race. ‘That particular problem is yours, My Lord,’ he said. ‘Our mutual one is what we’re going to do about your brother. Sephrenia got directly to the point last night. No purely natural effort is going to effect his escape from this siege. We have no choice. We have to use magic – and His Grace appears to be unalterably opposed.’
‘I would not presume to instruct Ortzel in theology.’
‘Nor would I, My Lord. Might I point out, however, that should His Grace ascend to the Archprelacy, he’s going to have to modify his position – or at least learn to look the other way when this sort of thing happens. The four orders are the military arm of the Church, and we routinely utilize the secrets of Styricum in completing our tasks.’
‘I’m aware of that, Sir Sparhawk. My brother, however, is a rigid man and unlikely to change his views.’
Sparhawk began to pace up and down, thinking fast. ‘Very well, then,’ he said carefully. ‘What we’ll have to do to get your brother out of the castle will seem unnatural to you, but I assure you that it will be very effective. Sephrenia is highly skilled in the secrets. I’ve seen her do things that verge on the miraculous. You have my guarantee that she will in no way endanger your brother.’
‘I understand, Sir Sparhawk.’
‘Good. I was afraid that you might object. Most people are reluctant to rely on things they don’t understand. Now, then, His Grace will in no way participate in what we may have to do. To put it bluntly, he’d just be in the way. All he’s going to do is take advantage of it. He will in no way be personally involved in what he considers a sin.’
‘Understand me, Sir Sparhawk, I am not opposed to you in this. I will try reason with my brother. Sometimes he listens to me.’
‘Let’s hope this is one of those times.’ Sparhawk glanced out of the window and swore.
‘What is it, Sir Sparhawk?’
‘Is that Gerrich standing on top of that knoll at the rear of his troops?’
The Baron looked out of the embrasure. ‘It is.’
‘You might recognize the man standing beside him. That’s Adus, Martel’s underling. It seems that Martel’s been playing