"You have an urgent message from the Marshal?"

"Yes, sir." Paks pulled the leather tube from her tunic and passed it over. Zinthys smiled at her, as Sir Felis, frowning, worked the paper out of the tube and unrolled it. Zinthys wore a different, but equally rich-looking velvet robe, trimmed in white fur around the shoulders. Paks noticed, once again, the graceful movements of his hands.

"Why don't you sit down, Paksenarrion? We have spiced wine ready on the fire—would you care for some?"

Paks shook her head, not certain what courtesy demanded, but sat in the chair Zinthys pointed out. He moved to the one next to her, and sat down with a sigh, stretching his legs.

"I'll have some then, if you permit." He hooked a potlift in the handle of a can on the hearth, and poured the wine into his mug. "Ah. These chill autumn nights make the best of wine. You should try it." He slid his eyes sideways at her. "Or perhaps you drink only ale?"

"I—most soldiers drink ale," said Paks. "Wine—we had that with an herb in it, if we were wounded."

"Numbwine. Yes. Not as good as a potion, but good enough. But you're hardly a common soldier now, lady, and you might find you liked spiced wine." Zinthys poured another mug full and passed it to her. Paks took it, and sipped. Zinthys watched her, his eyebrows raised. "Well?"

"It's—very good." She looked down, and sipped again. It was good, a red wine flavored with her favorite spices.

"Have you found any trace of our brigands?" asked Zinthys.

"No, sir, unless something I saw today—" She told him about the blazed tree, and answered his questions. She started to add what the Marshal had explained about the possible uses of such a blaze in setting an ambush, but remembered in time that Sir Felis probably already knew that. He nodded.

"Fresh blazes. There's that merchant from Chaya in town now—wasn't he planning to leave tomorrow, Zinthys?"

"That's right. Master merchant Cobai Trav-something, and his gnome partners—"

"Gnomes?" asked Paks, sitting up.

"Yes. What is it, haven't you seen gnomes before?"

"No. I've heard of them—" she remembered Bosk talking about gnomes, elves, and dwarves on her first trip south.

"Well, around here you'll see gnomes fairly often. I'm surprised you didn't see these at the inn today. Two of the gnome kingdoms are less than a three days' ride from here. If you meet them, remember that they're very strict."

"Strict?"

Zinthys laughed. "They make a court judge look like a juggler, Paksenarrion. They are full of dignity, and pride, and the right way to do everything—Ashto help you if you laugh at a gnome, or fail to complete a contract."

"They don't like wizards," said Sir Felis dryly. Paks glanced at him, and he grinned slightly, cocking his head at Zinthys. Zinthys flushed.

"It's not that, Sir Felis—it's that they're so—so—" He waved his hands in the air. "Sober," he finished. "Dead serious all the time, that's gnomes."