"No!" the man screamed, then Bautista pushed the brand forward and the scream soared high and terrible. There was a sizzling sound, a flash of flame as the man's greasy hair briefly flared with fire, then the big room filled with the smell of burning flesh. Bautista held the brand on the man's skin even as the thief collapsed.

The iron was pushed back into the coals as the second man was hauled forward. That second man looked at Sharpe. "Senor, I beg you! It was not us! Not us!"

"Your Excellency!" Sharpe called.

"If I were in England," Bautista jiggled the iron in the fire, "would you think it proper for me to interfere with English justice? This is Chile, Mister Sharpe, not England. Justice here is what I say it is, and I treat thieves with the certain cure of pain. Exquisite pain!" He pulled the brand free, turned and aimed the bright letter at the second man.

"God save Ireland," Harper said softly beside Sharpe. Most of the audience looked shocked. One uniformed man had gone to a window and was leaning across the wide stone sill. Bautista, though, was enjoying himself. Sharpe could see it in the dark eyes. The second man screamed, and again there was the hiss of burning skin and the stink of flesh cooking, and then the second man, like the first, had the big L branded forever on his forehead.

"Take them away," Bautista commanded as he tossed the branding iron into the fireplace, then turned and stared defiantly at Sharpe. The Captain-General looked tired, as though all the joy of his morning had suddenly evaporated. "Your request to travel to Puerto Crucero and recover the body of Don Bias Vivar is granted. Captain Marquinez will issue you with the necessary permits, and you will leave Valdivia tomorrow. That finishes today's business. Good day."

The Captain-General, his morning display of efficiency and cruelty complete, turned on his heels and walked away.

"Who were they?" Sharpe challenged Marquinez.

"They?"

"Those two men."

"They were the thieves, of course."

"I don't believe it," Sharpe claimed angrily. "I didn't recognize either man."

"If they were not the thieves," Marquinez said very calmly, "then how do you explain their possession of your property?" He smiled as he waited for Sharpe's answer and, when none came, he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a sheaf of documents. "Your travel permits, Colonel. You will note they specify you must leave Valdivia tomorrow." He dealt the documents onto the desk one by one, as though they were playing cards. "Mister Harper's travel pass, which bears the same date restrictions as your own. This is your fortress pass, which gives you entry to the Citadel at Puerto Crucero, and finally, a letter from His Excellency giving you permission to exhume the body of General Vivar." Marquinez smiled. "Everything you wish!"

Sharpe, after his flash of anger, felt churlish. The papers were indeed everything he needed, even down to the letter authorizing the exhumation. "What about the church's permission?"

"I think you will find that no churchman will countermand the wishes of Captain-General Bautista," Marquinez said.

Sharpe picked up the papers. "You've been very helpful, Captain."

"It is our pleasure to be helpful."

"And at least we'll have fine weather for our voyage," Harper put in cheerfully.

"Your voyage?" Marquinez asked in evident puzzlement, then understood Harper's meaning. "Ah! You are assuming that you will be traveling on board the Espiritu Santo. Alas, she has no spare passenger cabins, at least not till she has dropped those passengers traveling to Puerto Crucero. Which means that you must travel overland. Which is good news, gentlemen! It will offer you a chance to see some of our lovely countryside."

"But if we don't have to catch the ship," Sharpe asked, "why do we have to leave tomorrow?"

"You surely want to have your business in Puerto Crucero finished by the time the Espiritu Santo arrives there, do you not? Else how will you be able to travel back to Europe in her? Besides, we always specify the dates for travel, Colonel, otherwise how do we know the permits have been properly used?"

"But I need a tin-lined coffin made!" Sharpe insisted, "and I can't do that and buy horses all in one day!"

Marquinez brushed the objections aside. "The armorers at Puerto Crucero will be pleased to make a coffin for you. And I'm sure Mister Blair will be happy to help you buy horses and saddles, as well as supplies for the journey."

Sharpe still protested the arrangement. "Why can't we sleep on the Espiritu Santa's deck? We don't need cabins."

Marquinez tried to soothe Sharpe. "The fault is entirely ours. We insisted that Captain Ardiles carry reinforcements for the Puerto Crucero garrison, and he claims he cannot cram another soul on board his ship. Alas." Marquinez sounded genuinely sympathetic. "But even if you could change Ardiles's mind, then you would still need new travel permits because these, as you can plainly see, are good only for land travel and do not give you permission to journey by sea. It is the regulations, you understand." Marquinez offered Sharpe one of his dazzling white smiles. "But perhaps, Colonel, you will do me the honor of letting me escort you for the first few miles? I could bring some company!" Marquinez raised his eyebrows to indicate that the company would be enjoyable, "and perhaps you will do me the favor of allowing me to provide you with luncheon? It would provide me with an opportunity to show you some scenery that is truly spectacular. I beg you! Please!" Marquinez waited for Sharpe's assent, then sensed the Englishman's suspicions. "My dear Colonel," Marquinez hastened to reassure Sharpe, "bring Mister Blair if that will make you easier!"

It seemed churlish to refuse. So far Marquinez had exacted neither payment nor bribe for the travel permits, indeed he had produced everything Sharpe had wanted, and the elegant young Captain seemed genuinely enthusiastic about showing Sharpe and Harper some of Chile's most beautiful countryside, and so Sharpe accepted the invitation, and then, with the permits safe in his pocket, he went to seek Blair's urgent help in buying horses and supplies.

They had just one day before they rode south to rendezvous with a corpse.

It was, Harper said, a countryside so lovely and so fertile that it seemed only fitting that he rode it on a horse of gold.

In truth the horse was nothing special, but the beast had cost more money than either Harper or Sharpe had ever paid for a horse, and Sharpe's horse had cost just as much, yet Blair had been at pains to convince them that the animals had been purchased at something close to a bargain price. "Horses are expensive here!" the Consul had pleaded, "and when you leave Chile you should be able to sell them at a profit. Or something close to a profit."

"At a loss, you mean?" Sharpe asked.

"You need horses!" Blair insisted, and so they had paid for the two most expensive lumps of horseflesh ever bred. Harper's was a big mare, gray with a wall left eye and a hard, bruising gait. She was not pretty, but she was stubborn and strong enough to cope with Harper's weight. Sharpe's horse was also a mare, a chestnut with a docked tail and gaunt ribs. "All she needs is a bit of feeding," Blair had said, then negotiated the price of a mule that was to carry their luggage as well as the box which, taken from Blair's strong room, was now even more depleted of its precious gold.

What was left in the box was still a small fortune, and one that seemed increasingly unnecessary. So far, to Sharpe's astonishment, everything had proved remarkably easy. "It must be your reputation," Blair had said. The Consul claimed to be too busy to accept Marquinez's invitation, but had assured Sharpe there could be no danger in Marquinez's company. "Or perhaps Bautista thinks you've got a deal of influence back in Spain. You're a lucky man."