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boy. Always has been.’
    ‘Are you going to answer my question?’ Annias demanded.
    ‘Please, your Grace,’ Sparhawk responded piously, holding up one hand, ‘not until the bastard Regent arrives. We must mind our manners, mustn’t we?’ He lifted one eyebrow. ‘Tell me,’ he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘how’s his mother – her health, I mean? I wouldn’t expect a churchman to be able to testify to the carnal talents of the Princess Arissa – although just about everybody else in Cimmura could.’
    ‘You go too far, Sparhawk.’
    ‘You mean you didn’t know? My goodness, old boy, you really should try to stay abreast of things.’
    ‘How rude!’ Baron Harparin exclaimed to the fat man in red.
    ‘It’s not the sort of thing you’d understand, Harparin,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘I hear that your inclinations lie in other directions.’
    The door opened and a pimpled young man withmuddy blond hair and a slack-lipped mouth entered. He wore a green, ermine-trimmed robe and a small gold coronet. ‘You wanted to see me, Annias?’ His voice had a nasal, almost whining quality to it.
    ‘A state matter, your Highness,’ Annias replied. ‘We need to have you pass judgement in a case involving high treason.’
    The young man blinked stupidly at him.
    ‘This is Sir Sparhawk, who has deliberately violated the command of your late uncle, King Aldreas. Sparhawk here was ordered to Rendor, not to return unless summoned back by royal command. His very presence in Elenia convicts him.’
    Lycheas recoiled visibly from the bleak-faced knight in black armour, his eyes going wide and his loose mouth gaping. ‘Sparhawk?’ he quailed.
    ‘The very same,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘The good primate, however, has slightly overstated the case, I’m afraid. When I assumed my position as hereditary champion of the crown, I took an oath to defend the King – or the Queen – whenever the royal life was endangered. That oath takes precedence over any command royal or otherwise – and the Queen’s life is clearly in danger.’
    ‘That’s merely a technicality, Sparhawk,’ Annias snapped.
    ‘I know,’ Sparhawk replied blandly, ‘but technicalities are the soul of the law.’
    The Earl of Lenda cleared his throat. ‘I have made a study of such matters,’ he said, ‘and Sir Sparhawk has correctly cited the law. His oath to defend the crown does in fact take precedence.’
    Prince Lycheas had gone around to the other side of the table, giving Sparhawk a wide berth. ‘That’s absurd,’ he declared. ‘Ehlana’s sick. She’s not in any physical danger.’ He sat down in the chair next to the primate.
    ‘The Queen,’ Sparhawk corrected him. ‘What?’
    ‘Her proper title is “her Majesty” – or at the least, “Queen Ehlana” It’s extremely discourteous simply to call her by name. Technically, I suppose, I’m obliged to protect her from discourtesy as well as physical danger. I’m a little vague on that point of law, so I’ll defer to the judgement of my old friend, the Earl of Lenda, on the matter before I have my seconds deliver my challenge to your Highness.’
    Lycheas went pasty white ‘Challenge?’
    ‘This is sheer idiocy,’ Annias declared. ‘There will be no challenges delivered or accepted.’ His eyes narrowed then. ‘The Prince Regent’s point is well taken, however,’ he said. ‘Sparhawk has simply seized this flimsy excuse to violate his banishment. Unless he can present some documentary evidence of having been summoned, he stands convicted of high treason.’ The primate’s smile was thin.
    ‘I thought you’d never ask, Annias,’ Sparhawk said. He reached under his sword belt and drew out a tightly folded parchment tied with a blue ribbon. He untied the ribbon and opened the parchment, the blood-red stone on his ring flashing in the candlelight. ‘This all seems to be in order,’ he said, perusing the document. ‘It has the Queen’s signature on it and her personal