The Diamond Throne

you?’
    ‘It’s tactically sound, Kurik. Diversion and subterfuge are part of any good plan.’
    ‘Do you have any idea of how much thatch – and wood – there is in this part of town?’
    ‘It might give the church soldiers something useful to do,’ Sparhawk shrugged.
    ‘That’s hard, Sparhawk.’
    ‘Not nearly as hard as the notion of Annias sitting on the Archprelate’s throne. Let’s get what we need. I want to be out of Chyrellos before the sun comes up tomorrow, and I can’t do that with all those soldiers camped outside the gate.’
    They went down the stairs to fetch rope, a bow, and a quiver of arrows.
    ‘What’s afoot?’ Tynian asked as he, Kalten, Bevier, and Ulath met them in the courtyard.
    ‘We’re going to get word to Dolmant,’ Sparhawk told him.
    Tynian looked at the bow Berit was carrying. ‘With that?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t that rather a long shot?’
    ‘There’s a little more to it than that,’ Sparhawk told him. He quickly sketched in the plan. Then, as they started up the steps, he put his hand on Talen’s shoulder. This isn’t going to be the safest thing in the world,’ he told the boy. ‘I want you to be careful out there.’
    ‘You worry too much, Sparhawk,’ Talen replied. ‘I could do this in my sleep.’
    ‘You might need some kind of note to give to Dolmant,’ Sparhawk said.
    ‘You’re not serious? If I get stopped, I can lie my way out of trouble, but not if I’ve got a note in my pocket. Dolmant knows me, and he’ll know that the message is from you. Just leave everything to me, Sparhawk.’
    ‘Don’t stop to pick any pockets along the way.’
    ‘Of course not,’ Talen replied, just a little too glibly.
    Sparhawk sighed. Then he quickly told the boy what to say to the Patriarch of Demos.
    The plan went more or less as Talen had outlined it. As soon as the patrol had passed in the narrow street, Berit’s arrow arched out like a falling star and sank into the thatched stable roof. It sputtered there for a moment or two, and then bluish-coloured flame ran quickly up to the ridgepole, turning sooty orange first, then bright yellow as the flames began to spread.
    ‘Fire!’ Talen yelled.
    ‘Fire!’ the rest echoed.
    In the street below, the church soldiers came pounding around the corner to be met by the nearly hysterical owner of the stables. ‘Good masters!’ the poor man cried, wringing his hands. ‘My stable! My horses! My house! My God!’
    The officious captain hesitated, looking first at the fire then back at the looming wall of the chapterhouse in an agony of indecision.
    ‘We’ll help you, Captain,’ Tynian called down from the wall. ‘Open the gate!’
    ‘No!’ the captain shouted back. ‘Stay inside.’
    ‘You could lose half of the holy city, you blockhead!’ Kalten roared at him. ‘That fire will spread if you don’t do something immediately.’
    ‘You!’ the captain snapped at the commoner who owned the stable. ‘Fetch buckets and show me the nearest well.’ He turned quickly to his men. ‘Form up a line,’ he commanded. ‘Go to the front gate of the Pandionhouse and bring back every man we can spare.’ He sounded decisive now. Then he squinted up at the knights on the parapet. ‘But leave a detachment on guard there,’ he ordered.
    ‘We can still help, Captain,’ Tynian offered. ‘There’s a deep well here. We can turn out our men and pass buckets to your men outside the gate. Our major concern here must be the saving of Chyrellos. Everything else must be secondary to that.’
    The captain hesitated.
    ‘Please, Captain!’ Tynian’s voice throbbed with sincerity. ‘I beg of you. Let us help.’
    ‘Very well,’ the captain snapped. ‘Open your gate. But no one is to leave the chapterhouse grounds.’
    ‘Of course not,’ Tynian replied.
    ‘Nicely done,’ Ulath grunted, tapping Tynian on the shoulder with his fist.
    Tynian grinned at him. ‘Talking does pay off sometimes, my silent friend. You should try it sometime.’
    ‘I’d rather use an axe.’
    ‘Well, I guess I’ll be leaving now, my Lords,’ Talen said. ‘Was there anything you’d like to have me pick up for you – since I’ll be out and about anyway?’
    ‘Keep your mind on what you’re supposed to do,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Just go and talk to Dolmant.’
    ‘And be careful,’ Kurik growled. ‘You’re a disappointing son sometimes, but I don’t want to lose you.’
    ‘Sentimentality, father?’ Talen said, affecting