Paks looked at the goods. The silk slid across her hands like water—she decided on a silk shirt, green, with gold embroidery on the yoke. For that, the woman said, she'd have to await the tailor's return. In the meantime, a linen shirt—Paks explained the cut she wanted, to free her arms for swordplay. The tailor's wife took her measurements.

"You're as big as a man," she said, a little nervously. "Even in the neck—"

Paks laughed. "It comes of the fighting," she said. "Wearing a helmet every day would thicken anyone's neck. Makes it harder to cut through." But the woman didn't take the joke, and only looked frightened. Paks sighed, and ordered trousers as well, of the local wool, thicker and softer than she'd found in Aarenis. The tailor's wife knew someone who knitted for sale, and by noon Paks had ordered new socks and gloves for the coming winter.

As she came back to the inn, well satisfied with her morning's work, she noticed a crowd round the door. She slowed. A group of men came out, carrying something on a plank. Boots, scuffed and worn, poked out from under a blanket. The tall man. Paks shivered. Marshal Cedfer, walking with the carriers, nodded shortly to Paks as he led the group toward the grange. Paks went on to the door, staring after them.

Just inside the inn door, Hebbinford was talking to Master Oakhallow.

"—doesn't do the inn any good," he was saying. "And besides—Oh. Paksenarrion. Master Oakhallow was looking for you."

Paksenarrion felt a tremor in her gut. The Kuakgan was looking at her without expression. She opened her mouth to say something about lunch, and thought better of it.

"For a simple warrior," said the Kuakgan, "you certainly have managed to make a stir in our quiet village." Hebbinford moved away, into the common room. Paks thought of several things to say, and decided against all of them. "You were about to eat?" Oakhallow went on.

"Yes, sir." Paks tried to judge his expression. "But if you needed—"

"No. I think I'll join you for lunch, if that's acceptable."

Paks wondered what he would say if she said no. Instead she nodded, and followed him into the common room. He murmured something to Hebbinford, and the innkeeper waved them on into the kitchen. The serving wenches were wide-eyed. The Kuakgan moved to a table at the kitchen window, overseeing the courtyard, and sat down. Paks hesitated, then sat opposite him. Hebbinford brought a platter of sliced meat, a loaf of bread, and a round of cheese to the table. One of the girls brought a pitcher of water and two mugs.