"He's my senior herdsman."

"They're just learning sword drill," said Mal. "I told 'em they should use an axe, but—"

"Mal, for Gird's sake don't start on that—"

"What?" asked Paks.

"Axes. Mal thinks everyone should fight with an axe. It's all right for him, as big as he is, and using an axe every day. But—"

"In formation?" Paks tried to imagine it. She knew that some knights fought with small axes, but she'd never heard of a foot soldier using one.

"Nah—not formation exactly." Mal laughed loudly. "It's a right Girdish weapon, that's all, being taken from our tools, you see. And I've killed wolf with it—"

"With an axe?" Paks stared at him.

"Oh, aye. Just you swing it from side to side, see—like the Master Smith does his hammer, that's all. It's the very thing. Won't break like a sword will." He laughed again, and Paks eyed him narrowly. If she had seen him in a tavern in Aarenis, she'd have thought him a stupid lout. He was two fingers taller than she, and built like an ale barrel. She'd seen him drain a tankard at one swallow. Yet he didn't move like a drunkard, and his great arms showed solid muscle.

Several more yeomen had joined them, hurrying out of side lanes. For a few moments, Paks felt almost at home, almost as if she were going somewhere with Stammel and other friends. Then one of them nudged another and spoke.

"Is it true, lady, that the Council has hired you?"

Paks was too surprised to make a good pretence of ignorance. "Why do you ask?" she said finally.

"Well—you've got money enough, that's obvious, and you make no sign of leaving. Could be you bribed them, or could be they hired you."

"Doryan!" Mal's bellow startled Paks as much as the statement.

"Don't yell at me, Mal. I've a right to ask, as much as anyone." Doryan shifted away from Mal, nonetheless, and winked at Paks. He was middle-aged, slightly stooped, and she had no idea what his trade was. "If you don't want to say, that's all right. Just asking."

Paks thought what she could say. The Council had not told her to keep her mission quiet, but she had planned to say nothing. How else could she find the spy they thought lived in Brewersbridge? "The Council decided," she said, "that I was no threat to the peace here. I had ordered goods, and they gave me leave to stay until these were made up. They did say you'd had trouble with brigands attacking caravans. Since I have been a soldier, they asked me to consider leading some volunteers against them."

"Huh!" Mal grunted and rubbed his neck as he walked. "Have to find them first, don't you? We all know they're out there, but no one's seen them."

"But who would go with you?" asked Doryan. He had an irritating whine in his voice. "We don't know you—the militia don't—and they don't think you could fight all those brigands alone, do they?"