The Diamond Throne

are looking a bit unwell, Sephrenia,’ he said, ‘but couldn’t you find a physician in Jiroch?’
    She smiled briefly. ‘It’s not for me, Perraine,’ she told him. ‘It has to do with someone else. Do you know this Tanjin?’
    ‘Everybody in Dabour knows him. He keeps quarters in the back of an apothecary shop in the central square. His house is being watched, though. There are rumours going about that he dabbles in magic sometimes, and the zealots have been trying to catch him at it.’
    ‘It might be better to walk to the square, wouldn’t you say?’ Sparhawk asked.
    Perraine nodded.
    ‘And I think we’ll wait until just before the sun goes down. That way we’ll have some darkness when we come out – just in case we need it.’
    ‘You want me to go with you?’
    ‘It might be better if Sephrenia and I went alone,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘You have to stay here, and we don’t. If Tanjin’s under suspicion, visiting him could jeopardize your position here in Dabour.’
    ‘Stay out of alleys, Sparhawk,’ Kurik growled.
    Sparhawk motioned to Flute, and she came to him obediently. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face. ‘I want you to stay here with Kurik,’ he told her
    She looked at him gravely, then impudently crossed her eyes at him.
    ‘Stop that,’ he said. ‘Listen to me, young lady, I’m serious.’
    ‘Just ask her, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia advised. ‘Don’t try to order her around.’
    ‘Please, Flute,’ he implored. ‘Will you please stay here?’
    She smiled sweetly, put her hands together in front of her, and curtsied.
    ‘You see how easy it is?’ Sephrenia said.
    ‘Since we’ve got some time, I’ll fix you all something to eat,’ Perraine said, rising to his feet.
    ‘Did you know that all your bottles are leaking, Sir Perraine?’ Kurik said, pointing at the dripping vessels hanging from the rafters.
    ‘Yes,’ Perraine replied. ‘They make a mess on the floor, but they help to keep it cool in here.’ He went to the hearth and fumbled for a few moments with flint, steel and tinder. He built up a very small fire of twigs and twisted chunks of the branches of desert shrubs. Then he set a kettle on the fire, took a large pan, and poured oil init. He set the pan on the coals and took several chunks of meat out of a covered bowl. As the oil began to smoke, he dropped the meat into the pan. ‘I’m afraid it’s only mutton,’ he apologized. ‘I wasn’t expecting company.’ He spiced the sizzling meat liberally to disguise its flavour, then brought heavy plates to the table. He went back to the fire and opened an earthenware jar. He took a pinch of tea from the jar, dropped it into a mug, and poured hot water from the kettle into the mug. ‘For you, little mother,’ he said, delivering the mug to her with a flourish.
    ‘How very nice,’ she said. ‘You’re such a dear, Perraine.’
    ‘I live but to serve,’ he said a bit grandiosely He brought fresh figs and a slab of cheese to the table, then set the smoking pan in the centre of it.
    ‘You’ve missed your calling, my friend,’ Sparhawk said.
    ‘I learned to cook for myself a long time ago. I could afford a servant, but I don’t trust strangers.’ He sat down. ‘Be careful out there, Sparhawk,’ he cautioned as they began to eat. ‘Arasham’s followers are a bit limp between the ears, and they’re all obsessed with the idea of catching some neighbour committing a minor transgression. Arasham preaches every evening, after the sun goes down, and he manages to come up with some new prohibition every night.’
    ‘What’s the latest one?’ Sparhawk asked.
    ‘Killing flies. He says that they’re the messengers of God.’
    ‘You’re not serious.’
    Perraine shrugged. ‘I think he’s running out of things to forbid, and his imagination is severely limited. You want some more of this mutton?’
    ‘Thanks all the same, Perraine,’ Sparhawk said, taking a fig instead, ‘but one chunk of mutton is my limit.’
    ‘One chunk a day?’
    ‘No. One a year.’

Chapter 22
    The sun was turning the western sky a rusty colour when Sparhawk and Sephrenia entered the square near the centre of Dabour, and the light reflecting from the late-afternoon sky bathed the walls of the buildings and the faces of the people in the square with a ruddy glow. Sephrenia had her left arm bound up in a makeshift sling, and Sparhawk held her other elbow solicitously as they walked.
    ‘It’s