“I don’t like vocal music,” Kero explained forlornly. “And the reason I don’t like it is because every damn fool that can tell one note from another thinks he rates right up there with Master Bards. I have perfect pitch, Herald—nothing else, I certainly am no performer—but I do have perfect pitch, and my relative pitch is just as good. Out-of-tune amateurs make my skin crawl, like fingernails on slate. And it’s no great benefit to have had a song written about you, either—just you wait, one of these days it’ll happen to you, and then that tall fellow out there won’t find it so funny to hear it every night for a fortnight straight, and only once in all that time will it be sung well.”

“You’re right, Captain,” Dirk said contritely from the door flap. “I apologize. But I wish you could have seen your own expression.”

“I’m glad I couldn’t. Listen, there’s something I need to tell you people about. I didn’t mention this before, but I had mages with this troop. Real mages, practicing real magic.” She watched them carefully to see what their reactions to this would be. “Most mere Companies do, if they can afford them, and we can.”

“Had?” Dirk replied, after a long moment of silence. “Does that mean you didn’t bring them with you?”

She couldn’t read anything from either of them—and this was not the time to try prying into anyone’s mind. Especially not a Herald, who might catch her at it. “No,” she said, honestly, “I tried to bring them with me, but they were stopped at the Border. By what, they couldn’t tell me—only that it felt as if something was watching them, waking and sleeping. It finally got so bad they begged me to send them home before they went mad. That is evidently the reason why you don’t have real mages here in Valdemar. Something doesn’t want them here, and stares at them until they go away.”

Like the time with Eldan, she was having to fight something to get every word out, and she spoke slowly so that the effort wouldn’t be noticed. It doesn’t explain why something around here doesn’t want you even knowing about magic, but that’s not my problem. As long as it doesn’t freeze the words in my throat, I don’t care. Need’s been awfully quiet, but it really doesn’t feel like the sword’s being tampered with, it’s beginning to feel as if Need doesn’t want to draw attention to itself. Which is fine with me. It means she is still working.