Paks grinned. "You expect a stranger to find out what's going on when you, who know everyone, can't? I might be able to find the brigands, sir, and I know I can fight, but I've no experience in finding out secrets like that."

"Well, but if you should happen to learn—"

"I would tell—Marshal Cedfer, you wished me to report to? Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right. Or me. But Marshal Cedfer is best."

Paks looked around the table. Everyone was watching her. The mage gave her a bright smile, as if to encourage her. The Marshal and Sir Felis looked impatient, as if she were a slightly stupid recruit. Master Oakhallow's level gaze held a challenge. She felt, suddenly, very tired. To fight brigands was well enough, and she'd be glad of an honest, above-ground battle again, but she had the feeling that they all expected something else. Something more.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'll do that—or try to. I suppose the first thing is to look for the places they might be. Do you have a map, perhaps, of the local—"

But at that they all began to talk.

"How good of you—"

"No need for that tonight, now that you've—"

"Perhaps tomorrow you can meet with Marshal Cedfer—"

"—out to the keep, and I'll introduce you to my sergeants—"

The mayor banged his gavel once, and everyone quieted. "One last thing. The town, as I said, will supply the militia, their food and weapons. But do you have what you need for yourself? I see you have armor—" He waited for her answer. Paks thought about her gear. To move about the countryside, as far as he had mentioned—a day's ride away?—she would need a horse of some kind.

"I could use a horse or mule," she said. "My pony's not the right animal for prowling around."

Sir Felis frowned. "I haven't any spares, right now. We've thrush in the stable, and horses lame."

The mayor shook his head. "It's so late in the season. The horses in town now are work horses—and in use every day. Marshal Cedfer?"

"No. Sorry. My own mount, and Ambros's, that's all I've got. If you wanted to buy one, perhaps Sir Felis could send to the count's stable—"

"There's one spare horse," said Hebbinford. "In my stable—that black horse."

Paks felt a surge of excitement. She had not thought of the black, but that was the sort of horse she had dreamed of in the past. A true warrior's horse. She looked at the mayor, and Hebbinford, and back again. "What about that one, then? No one else is using it."

"I suppose that's all right," said the mayor slowly. "I can see you need a horse, to go looking all over the country. If the rest of you agree—"

"What of the man's heirs?" asked Master Feddith. "He looked a friendless man, but if he had heirs, they'd have some right to the beast."