"Isn't that a bit extreme, Your Majesty?" Lenda objected. "No, as a matter of fact, it's not. I want it to be at least ten generations before the Eshandist Heresy raises its head again." He grinned crookedly at Sparhawk. "If you serve well and faithfully, my friend, I'll even let you kill Martel."

"I'd appreciate that, Your Majesty," Sparhawk replied politely.

"Oh, dear," Sephrenia sighed.

"It needs to be done, little lady," Wargun told her.

"Obler, is your army ready to move?"

"They're only awaiting orders, Wargun."

"Good. If you don't have anything else planned, why don't we start for Elenia tomorrow?"

"We might as well." Old King Obler shrugged.

Wargun stood up and stretched, yawning broadly.

"Let's all get some sleep then," he said. "We'll be starting early tomorrow."

Later, Sparhawk and his friends gathered in Vanion's room to tell the Preceptor in much greater detail what had happened in Lamorkand and Pelosia.

When they had finished, he looked curiously at Flute.

"just exactly what's your part in all this?" he asked her.

"I was sent to help," she replied with a shrug.

"By Styricum?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"And what was this task you have to perform here in Acie?"

"I've already done it, Vanion. Sephrenia and I had to talk with a certain Styric here. We saw him in the street on our way to the palace and took care of it."

"What did you have to say to him that was more important than getting the Bhelliom?"

"We had to prepare Styricum for what is about to happen."

"The invasion by the Rendors, you mean?"

"Oh, that's nothing, Vanion. This is much, much more serious."

Vanion looked at Sparhawk. "You're going to Thalesia then?"

Sparhawk nodded. "Even if I have to walk on water to get there."

"All right, I'll do what I can to help you get out of the city. There's one thing that concerns me, though. If you all leave, Wargun's going to notice that you're gone.

Sparhawk and one or two others might be able to get away without alerting Wargun, but that's about all."

Flute stepped into the middle of the room and looked them over. "Sparhawk," she said, pointing, "and Kurik, Sephrenia and me - and Talen."

"That's absurd," Bevier exploded. "Sparhawk's going to need knights with him if he's going to come up against Ghwerig."

"Sparhawk and Kurik can take care of it," she said complacently.

"Isn't it dangerous to take Flute along?" Vanion asked Sparhawk.

"Maybe so, but she's the only one who knows the way to Ghwerig's cave."

"Why Talen?" Kurik said to Flute.

"There's something he has to do in Emsat," she replied.

"I'm sorry, my friends," Sparhawk told the other knights, but we're more or less committed to doing things her way."

"Are you going to leave now?" Vanion said.

"No, we have to wait for Talen."

"Good. Sephrenia, go and get Olven's sword.

"But - "

"Just do it, Sephrenia. Please don't argue with me."

"Yes, dear one," she sighed.

After she had delivered Olven's sword to him, Vanion was so weak he could barely stand.

"You're going to kill yourself doing this, you know."

"Everybody dies from something. Now then, gentlemen," he said to the knights, "I have a troop of Pandions with me. Those of you who are staying behind should mingle yourselves in among them when we ride out. Lenda and Obler are both quite old. I'll suggest to Wargun that we put them in a carriage and that he ride along with them. That should keep him from being able to count noses. I'll try to keep him occupied." He looked at Sparhawk. "A day or two is probably all I'll be able to manage for you," he apologized.

"That should be enough," Sparhawk said. "Wargun's likely to think that I'm going back to Lake Venne. He'll send any pursuit in that direction."

"The only problem now is getting you out of the palace," Vanion said.

"I'll take care of that," Flute told him.

"How?"

"Maa-gic," she said, comically drawing the word out and wiggling her fingers at him.

He laughed. "How did we ever get along without you?"

"Badly, I'd imagine." She sniffed.

It was about an hour later when Talen slipped into the room.

"Any problems?" Kurik asked him.

"No," Talen shrugged. "I made a few contacts and found us a place to hide."

"Contacts?" Vanion asked him. "With whom?"

"A few thieves, some beggars and a couple of murderers. They sent me to the man who controls the underside of Acie. He owes Platime a few favours, so when I mentioned Platime's name, he became very helpful."

"You live in a strange world, Talen," Vanion said.

"No stranger than the one you live in, My Lord," Talen said with an extravagant bow.

"That may be entirely true, Sparhawk," Vanion said.

"We may all be thieves and brigands when you get right down to it. All right," he said to Talen, "where is this hiding-place?"

"I'd rather not say," Talen replied evasively. "You're sort of an official person, and I gave my word."

"There's honour in your profession?"

"Oh yes, My Lord. It's not based on any knightly code, though. It's based on not getting your throat cut."

"You have a very wise son, Kurik," Kalten said.

"You had to go ahead and say it, didn't you, Kalten?" Kurik asked acidly.

"Are you ashamed of me, father?" Talen asked in a small voice, his face downcast.

Kurik looked at him. "No, Talen," he said, "actually I'm not." He put his burly arm about the boys shoulders.

"This is my son, Talen," he said defiantly, "and if anybody wants to make an issue of it, I'll be more than happy to give him satisfaction, and we can throw out the nonsense about the nobility and the commons not being allowed to fight each other."

"Don't be absurd, Kurik," Tynian said with a broad grin. "Congratulations to you both."

The other knights gathered about the husky squire and his larcenous son, clapping them on the shoulders and adding their congratulations to Tynian's.

Talen looked around at them, his eyes suddenly very wide and filled with tears at his sudden acknowledgement.

Then he fled to Sephrenia, fell to his knees, buried his face in her lap and wept.

Flute smiled.

Chapter 23

It was that same peculiarly drowsy melody Flute had played on the docks at Vardenais and again outside the chapterhouse in Cimmura.

"What's she doing now?" Talen whispered to Sparhawk as they all crouched behind the balustrade of the wide porch at the front of king Oblers palace.

"She's putting Wargun's sentries to sleep," Sparhawk replied. There was no point in extended explanations.

They'll ignore us as we pass them." Sparhawk wore his mail-shirt and his travellers cloak.

"Are you sure about that?" Talen sounded dubious.

"I've seen it work a few times before."

Flute stood up and walked to the wide staircase leading down to the courtyard. Still holding her pipes in one hand, she motioned for them to follow with the other.

"Let's go," Sparhawk said, rising to his feet.

"Sparhawk," Talen Hissed, "you're right out in plain sight."

"It's all right, Talen. They won't pay any attention to us."

"You mean they can't see us?"

"They can see us," Sephrenia told the boy, "at least with their eyes, but our presence doesn't mean anything to them."

Sparhawk led them to the stairs, and they followed Flute on down into the yard.

One of the Thalesian soldiers was posted at the foot of the stairs, and he gave them no more than a glance as they passed, his eyes dull and uninterested.

"This is very hard on my nerves, you know," Talen whispered.

"You don't have to whisper, Talen," Sephrenia told him.

"They can't hear us either?"

"They can hear us all right, but our voices don't register on them."

"You wouldn't mind if I got ready to run anyhow, would you?"

"It's not really necessary."

"I'll do it all the same."

"Relax, Talen," Sephrenia said. "You're making it harder for Flute."

They went into the stables, saddled their horses and led them out into the courtyard as Flute continued to play her pipes. Then they walked out through the gate past King Obler's indifferent sentries and King Wargun's patrol in the street outside the palace.

"Which way?" Kurik asked his son.

"That alley just down the street."

"Is this place very far?"

"About half-way across town. Meland doesn't like to get too close to the palace because the streets around here are patrolled."

"Meland?"

"Our host. He controls all the thieves and beggars here in Acie."

"Is he dependable?"

"Of course not, Kurik. He's a thief. He won't betray us though. I asked for thieves' sanctuary. He's obliged to take us in and hide us from anybody who might come looking for us. If he'd refused, he'd have had to answer to Platime at the next meeting of the thieves' council in Chyrellos."

"There's a whole world out there that we don't know anything about," Kurik said to Sparhawk.

"I've noticed," Sparhawk replied.

The boy led them through the crooked streets of Acie to a shabby section not too far from the city gates. "Stay here," he said when they reached a seedy-looking tavern.

He went inside and emerged a moment later with a ferret-like man. "He's going to take care of our horses."

"Watch out for this one, neighbour," Sparhawk warned the fellow as he handed him Faran's reins. "He's playful.

Faran, behave yourself."

Faran flicked his ears irritably as Sparhawk carefully pulled the spear of Aldreas out from under his saddle skirt.

Talen led them into the tavern. It was lighted by smoky tallow candles and had long, scarred tables flanked by rickety-looking benches. There were a number of rough looking men sitting at the tables. None of them paid any particular attention to Sparhawk and his friends, though their eyes were busy. Talen went to a stairway at the back. "It's up here," he said, pointing up the stairs.

The loft at the top of the stairs was very large, and it looked oddly familiar to Sparhawk. It was sparsely furnished and there were straw pallets on the floor along the walls. It seemed somehow very similar to Platime's cellar back in Cimmura.

Meland was a thin man with an evil-looking scar running down his' left cheek. He was sitting at a table with a sheet of paper and an ink-pot in front of him.

There was a heap of jewellery near his left hand, and he seemed to be cataloguing the pieces.

"Meland," Talen said as they approached the table, "these are the friends I told you about."

"I thought you said there would be ten of you." Meland had a nasal, unpleasant voice.

"The plans have changed. This is Sparhawk. He's the one who's more or less in charge.

Meland grunted. "How long do you plan to be here?" he asked Sparhawk shortly.

"If I can find a ship, only until tomorrow morning."

"You shouldn't have any trouble finding a ship. There are ships from all over western Eosia down at the harbour, Thalesian, Arcian, Elenian and even a few from Cammoria."

"Are the city gates open at night?"

"Not usually, but there's that army camped outside the walls. The soldiers are going in and out of town, so the gates are open." Meland looked critically at the knight. "If you're going down to the harbour, you'd better not wear that mail - or the sword. Talen says that you'd prefer not to be noticed. The people down there would remember someone dressed the way you are. There are some clothes hanging on those pegs over there. Find something that fits." Meland's tone was abrupt.

"What's the best way to get down to the harbour?"

"Go out of the north gate. There's a wagon track that leads down to the water. It branches off the main road on the left about a half-mile out of town."

"Thank you, neighbour," Sparhawk said.

Meland grunted and went back to his catalogue.

"Kurik and I are going to go down to the harbour to see about a ship," Sparhawk told Sephrenia. "You'd better stay here with the children."

"As you wish," she said.

Sparhawk found a somewhat shabby blue doublet hanging on one of the pegs that looked as if it might fit.

He took off his mail-shirt and sword and put it on. Then he pulled on his cloak again.

"Where are all of your people?" Talen was asking Meland.

"It's night-time," Meland replied. "They're out working or at least they'd better be."

Sparhawk and Kurik went back downstairs to the tavern.

"You want me to get our horses?" Kurik asked.

"No. Let's walk. People pay attention to mounted men."

"All right."

They went out through the city gate and on along the main road until they came to the wagon road Meland had mentioned. Then they walked on down to the harbour.

"Shabby-looking sort of place, isn't it?" Sparhawk noted, looking around at the settlement surrounding the harbour.

"Waterfronts usually are," Kurik said. "Let's ask a few questions. " He accosted a passer-by who appeared to be a sea-going man. "We be lookin' for a ship as is bound for Thalesia," he said, reverting to the sailor-language he had used in Venne. "Tell me, mate, could y maybe tell us' if there be a tavern hereabouts where the ship-captains gather?"

"Try the Bell and Anchor," the sailor replied. "It's that way a couple of streets - right near the water."

"Thanks, mate."

Sparhawk and Kurik walked down towards the long wharves jutting out into the dark, garbage-strewn waters of the Gulf of Acie. Kurik suddenly stopped. "Sparhawk," he said, "doesn't there seem to be something familiar about that ship out at the end of this wharf?"