"Anyway," Sir Felis went on, "there's a west-bound caravan in town now—headed for the gnome kingdoms next, and then Vérella. And if that blaze is fresh, it could mean that the brigands are planning to attack."

"It won't do any good to tell gnomes," said Zinthys.

"No, perhaps not. But I will send word to the caravan master. Not you, Paks—" he said, as she opened her mouth. "I don't want you to ride with this caravan—you weren't hired as a guard. If the brigands do strike, they should leave some trace you can follow to find their lair."

Sir Felis agreed with the Marshal's advice to ride out in other directions for the next day or so. Paks took this chance to look at his maps one more time, and fix in her mind the location of the ruined buildings he thought might harbor brigands.

* * *

The next morning when Paks went out to care for the black horse, she found the inn yard noisy and crowded. The day before she had been so excited about the blaze that she hardly noticed the new arrivals. Now teamsters were hitching teams of heavy mules to wagons. Paks realized that the short fellows she'd dismissed as someone's boys were actually not human—gnomes, she assumed. They were not so stout as the dwarves she'd seen; they wore plain clothes of gray and brown. Sevri merely nodded to her, darting quickly from one stall to another as she finished her morning's work. Paks decided to eat breakfast at the inn, after feeding the horses, so that she could watch the caravan leave.

It was not nearly so large as the one she had been with in Aarenis: seven wagons loaded with barrels and bales, with two guards besides the driver on each. The merchants—a blond human and two gnomes in sober colors but richer cloth than the gnome teamsters—rode saddle mules. Paks noticed that none of the gnomes smiled, though the human merchant grinned a farewell to Hebbinford, and promised to bring a barrel of "Marrakai red" on the way back. She went on with her breakfast, and was just washing down the last crumbs of it when Ambros appeared outside. She leaned out the window and called to him.

"I thought I'd come here," he said, dismounting. "If we're riding east today—"

"Just a moment—" Paks gestured to Hebbinford, who came to take her coins. "I know I'm late, but I thought I'd have time to breakfast before work today."

"Don't rush." Ambros did not seem in any hurry. "Shall I saddle your horse for you?"

"No. I don't know how he'd behave." Paks hurried up to her room, remembering the Marshal's injunction to wear mail every day. She was startled to see the black-clad man lounging in the upper passage. Had he been trying her door? But he smiled and nodded, as if glad to see her. Paks unlocked her door thoughtfully and latched it behind her. Everything seemed to be in place. She donned the lightweight mail the elfane taig had given her, pulled her shirt back over it, and caught up her old cloak. With that rolled into a bundle under her arm, she came back into the passage, and found it empty. She had heard no footsteps passing.