The Diamond Throne

with the sheep-herders in frantic pursuit. Flute covered her mouth with a soundless giggle.
    ‘Stop that,’ Sephrenia chided.
    ‘Did what I think happened, happen?’ Kurik said in amazement.
    ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised,’ Sparhawk said.
    ‘I really like that little girl, you know?’ Kurik was grinning broadly
    They rode on at the tail end of the crowd of pilgrims. After a time they crested a low hill and saw the city of Dabour spread out below them. There were the usual white-plastered houses clustered near the river, but beyond them, stretching in all directions, were hundreds of large black tents. Sparhawk shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned the city. ‘The cattle pens are over there,’ he said, pointing to the eastern edge of town. ‘We should be able to find Perraine there somewhere.’
    They angled down the hill, avoiding the buildings and tents in the southern section of Dabour. As they began to ride through a cluster of tents pitched between them and the pens, a bearded nomad with a brass pendant set with a bit of glass hanging on a chain about his neck stepped out from behind a tent to bar their path. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded. He made a quick, imperious gesture with one hand, and a dozen other black-robed men came out into the open with long pikes in their hands.
    ‘We have business at the cattle pens, noble sir,’ Sparhawk replied mildly
    ‘Oh, really?’ the bearded man sneered. ‘I see no cows.’ He looked around at his followers with a self-congratulatorysmirk as if terribly pleased with his own cleverness.
    ‘The cows are coming, noble sir,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘We were sent on ahead to make arrangements.’
    The man with the pendant knit his brows, trying hard to find something wrong with that. ‘Do you know who I am?’ he demanded finally in a pugnacious tone of voice.
    ‘I’m afraid not, noble sir,’ Sparhawk apologized. ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.’
    ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you?’ the officious fellow demanded. ‘All these soft answers don’t deceive me in the least.’
    ‘I wasn’t trying to be deceptive, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said with a slight edge coming into his voice, ‘merely polite.’
    ‘I am Ulesim, favoured disciple of holy Arasham,’ the bearded man said, striking his chest with his fist.
    ‘I’m overwhelmed by the honour of meeting you,’ Sparhawk said, bowing in his saddle.
    ‘That’s all you have to say?’ Ulesim exclaimed, his eyes bulging at the imagined insult.
    ‘As I said, Lord Ulesim, I’m overwhelmed. I hadn’t expected to be greeted by so illustrious a man.’
    ‘I’m not here to greet you, cowherd. I’m here to take you into custody. Get down off your horses.’
    Sparhawk gave him a long look, assessing the situation. Then he swung down from Faran’s back and helped Sephrenia to dismount.
    ‘What’s this all about, Sparhawk?’ she whispered as she lifted Flute down.
    ‘I’d guess that he’s a minor bootlicker trying to assert his own importance,’ Sparhawk whispered back. ‘We don’t want to stir anything up, so let’s do as he says.’
    ‘Take the prisoners to my tent,’ Ulesim commanded grandly after a moment’s hesitation. The favoured disciple didn’t seem to know exactly what to do.
    The pikemen stepped forward threateningly, and one of them led the way towards a tent surmounted by a drooping pennon made of dirty green cloth.
    They were roughly shoved into the tent, and the flap was tied down.
    Kurik’s expression was filled with contempt. ‘Amateurs, ’ he muttered. ‘They hold those pikes like shepherd’s crooks and they didn’t even search us for weapons.’
    ‘They may be amateurs, Kurik,’ Sephrenia said softly, ‘but they’ve managed to take us prisoner.’
    ‘Not for long,’ Kurik growled, reaching under his robe for his dagger. ‘I’ll cut a hole in the back of the tent, and we can be on our way’
    ‘No,’ Sparhawk said quietly ‘We’d have a horde of howling fanatics on our heels in about two minutes if we did that.’
    ‘We’re not just going to sit here?’ Kurik asked incredulously
    ‘Let me handle it, Kurik.’
    They sat waiting in the stifling tent as the minutes dragged by.
    After a bit, the tent-flap opened and Ulesim entered with two of his men close behind him. ‘I will have your name from you, cowherd,’ he said arrogantly.
    ‘I am called Mahkra, Lord Ulesim,’ Sparhawk