Sparhawk nodded, closed the door and joined her by the fire.

‘They’re all here now, Sparhawk,’ Danae told him, ‘so let’s get started with this.’

‘Exactly what are we going to do?’ he asked her.

‘You’re going to suggest a ride in the country.’

‘I’ll need a reason for that, Danae. The weather’s not really suitable for pleasure trips.’

‘Any sort of reason will do, father. Think something up and suggest it. They’ll all think it’s a wonderful idea – I can guarantee that. Take them towards Demos. Sephrenia, Vanion and I will join you a little way out of town.’

‘Would you like to clarify that a little bit? You’re already here.’

‘I’ll be there too, Sparhawk.’

‘You’re going to be in two places at the same time?’

‘It’s not really all that difficult, Sparhawk. We do it all the time.’

‘Maybe, but that’s not really a good way to keep your identity a secret, you know.’

‘No one will guess. I’ll look like Flute to them.’

‘There’s not really all that much difference between you and Flute, you know.’

‘Not to you, perhaps, but the others see me a little differently.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Take care of it, Sparhawk,’ she told him with an airy wave of her hand. Then she went towards the door, negligently dragging Rollo behind her.

‘I give up,’ Sparhawk muttered.

‘I heard that, father,’ she said without even turning.

When they all gathered for breakfast later that morning, it was Kalten who provided the opening Sparhawk needed. ‘I wish there were some way we could all get out of Cimmura for a few days,’ the blond Pandion said critically. He looked at Ehlana. ‘I’m not trying to be offensive, Your Majesty, but the palace isn’t really a very good place to have a reunion. Every time things get off to a good start, some courtier comes in with something that absolutely has to have Sparhawk’s immediate attention.’

‘He’s got a point there,’ Ulath agreed. ‘A good reunion’s a lot like a good tavern-brawl. It’s not nearly as much fun if it’s interrupted every time it gets going.’

Sparhawk suddenly remembered something. ‘Were you serious the other day, love?’ he asked his wife.

‘I’m always serious, Sparhawk. Which day were we talking about?’

‘The day when you were talking about bestowing a duchy on me?’

‘I’ve been trying to do that for four years now. I don’t know why I bother any more. You always find some reason to decline them.’

‘I shouldn’t really do that, I suppose – at least not until I’ve had a chance to look them over.’

‘Where are you going with this, Sparhawk?’ she asked.

‘We need a place for uninterrupted celebration, Ehlana.’

‘Brawling,’ Ulath corrected.

Sparhawk grinned at him. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I really should go and have a look at this duchy. It’s off towards Demos, as I recall. We might want to have a rather close look at the manor-house.’

‘We?’ she asked him.

‘A little advice never hurts a man when he’s trying to make a decision. I think we all ought to go and take a look at this duchy. What do the rest of you think?’

‘The strength of a good leader lies in his ability to make the obvious appear innovative,’ Stragen drawled.

‘We really ought to get out more often anyway, dear,’ Sparhawk told his wife. ‘We can take a little holiday, and all we’ll really have to worry about is whether or not Lenda puts two dozen of his relatives on the public payroll while we’re gone.’

‘I wish you all the enjoyment in the world, my friends,’ Platime said, ‘but I’m a kindly sort of fellow, and it distresses me to see a full-grown horse break down and cry every time I go to mount him. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Lenda.’

‘You can ride in the carriage,’ Mirtai told him.

‘Which carriage was that, Mirtai?’ Ehlana asked her.

‘The one you’re going to ride in to keep the weather off you.’

‘I don’t need a carriage.’

Mirtai’s eyes flashed. ‘Ehlana! she snapped. ‘Don’t argue!’

‘But –’

‘Hush, Ehlana!’

‘Yes, Mirtai,’ the queen sighed submissively.

They approached the outing with an almost holiday air. Even Faran felt it, and as his contribution to the festivities, he managed to step on both of Sparhawk’s feet at the same time while his master was trying to mount.

The weather seemed to be almost in abeyance as they set out. The sky was overcast rather than cloudy, and the biting chill which had characterized the winter moderated, becoming, if not warm, at least bearable. There was not even a hint of a breeze, and Sparhawk was uneasily reminded of the endless now of that moment the Troll-God Ghnomb had frozen for them on the road leading eastward from Paler.

They left Cimmura behind and followed the road leading towards the cities of Lenda and Demos. Sparhawk had been spared the unsettling possibility of actually seeing his daughter in two places at the same time by Mirtai’s decision that the weather was not suitable for the little princess to be making journeys and that she should remain in the palace in the care of her nurse. Sparhawk foresaw a titanic clash of wills looming in the future. The time was bound to come when Mirtai and Danae would run into each other head on. He was rather looking forward to it, actually.

It was not far from the place on the road where they had encountered the Seeker that they found Sephrenia and Vanion seated by a small fire with Flute characte-ristically seated on the limb of a nearby oak. Vanion, looking younger and more fit than he had in years, rose to greet his friends. As Sparhawk had more or less expected, Vanion wore a white Styric robe and no sword. ‘You’ve been well, I trust,’ the big Pandion asked as he dismounted.

‘Tolerable, Sparhawk. And you?’

‘No complaints, My Lord.’

And then they abandoned that particular pose and embraced each other roughly as the others all gathered around them.

‘Who’s been chosen to replace me as Preceptor?’ Vanion asked.

‘We’ve been urging the Hierocracy to appoint Kalten, My Lord,’ Sparhawk told him blandly.

‘You what?’ Vanion’s face was filled with chagrin.