"All right," said the Marshal-General, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "I see what you mean. Things about forts. Honestly! No, sorry, I see you're serious. Well, then. I'll assign you to the training company. Many of them are younger than you—nobles' youngsters, from Fintha and Tsaia, mostly. They've been someone's squires, and now they're preparing for knighthood. Some have come up through the granges, and have been yeoman-marshal somewhere for three years. You may not know, but all our marshals are trained here, along with the knights. You'll be assigned space in the courts—we don't have open barracks, for you'll need to study alone. You do read, don't you?" At Paks's nod, she went on, now writing swiftly on a loose sheet of paper. "Weapons practice daily—the senior instructor will assign the drills once he's examined you. Riding—do you ride? Yes, because Argalt mentioned putting up your horse. You're a few weeks behind one group; they arrived just after harvest. That's when we start the new cycles. But we'll see if you can catch up to them." She looked up from her writing. Although she was smiling, it seemed to Paks that she was even more formidable. "What weapons do you have?" she asked.

"This sword," said Paks, laying her hand on the hilt. "Another one, not so good—"

"That one's magical," said the Marshal-General. "Did you know?"

"Yes, my lady. And a dagger, and a short battleaxe."

"Do you use all of them?"

"No, my lady. Just sword and dagger, and I can use a long-bow, though not well."

"And I see you have mail as well. For the first weeks, though, you will not use your own weapons. The weaponsmaster will assign you weapons for training; yours may be stored in your quarters or in the armory, as you prefer."

"Yes, my lady."

"Your clothes—" She glanced at Paks's traveling clothes. "We have training uniforms, but we are not strict, except during drill and classes. We discourage display of jewels and such, but you don't look the type to show up in laces and ribbons."

"No, my lady."

"Very well." She signed the end of her note, and handed it to Paks. "Take this down, and ask Argalt to direct you to the Master of Training. He'll assign your quarters, and see that you're set up with the instructors. You will take your meals in the Lower Hall—by the way, you have no difficulties with the elder races, have you?"

"Elder races—you mean elves and dwarves?"

"Among others. We have quite a few here—you'll be meeting them. Don't get in fights with them."

"Oh no."

"Good. You may go, Paksenarrion. May Gird's grace be on you, and the High Lord's light guide your way." She rose, and Paks stood quickly, knocking her hand on the table edge.

"Thank you, my lady—"

"Thank the gods, Paksenarrion, for their bounty. I have done nothing yet to deserve your thanks."

Chapter Nineteen