“Would he, indeed? That would have been discourteous and unwise.” Now she looked dangerous, her face hardening in anger.

“I told him you wanted to hear more of Paksenarrion, and I could be killed just as easily after I talked to you.” Arvid drank more water. “I could tell you his idea of what happened—”

“No, I will hear it from him,” she said.

Arvid went on with his story, ending with, “I may have a few things out of order there, for truly, with the night and day’s exertions and the wound and the heat of the sun, I was not as alert as I prefer to be.”

“Um.”

“You said students were missing?”

“Two. Did you speak to anyone but Marshal Perin in the School? Any of the students?”

“One boy stuck his head in. I told him I wasn’t supposed to talk to students, and he came all the way in.”

“Let me guess. That was Baris Arnufson.”

“Do you know everyone’s name?”

“Don’t you know the name of everyone in the Thieves’ Guild in Tsaia?”

“A fair question. Yes, that was the boy’s name. A right piece of mischief, I thought, but not a bad boy at heart.”

“He’s gone.”

“I didn’t take him for a thief,” Arvid said. Would that boy have stolen his horse? His pack? “A conniver, yes; he told me he’d persuaded another boy to do a task for him.”

“He’s not the only one gone. I don’t know if they’re together, if one followed the other, if it’s unrelated …”

“You want my help.”

“I wanted your information about Paksenarrion, and hers about the necklace, as you know, but having come home to this, I need most to know if those boys are alone in this or if someone else was involved.”

“I don’t see Baris as the thief,” Arvid said. “This theft has a more adult feel, of someone with experience. And it’s someone here, Marshal-General, inside Gird’s cordon of righteousness: someone who knew that the necklace was no longer in the cellar, and someone who knew how to maze the guards watching it.”

“I was afraid of that,” the Marshal-General said.

“The boys—or one boy—may have been gulled into helping, especially if in awe of high-ranking men. Baris is less likely for that role. Or one or both may have seen something inconvenient to the thief and been … silenced.”

The Marshal-General paled. “You mean—killed?”

“It’s certainly possible. That, or locked away somewhere long enough for the thief to escape. But you will have searched everywhere, I’m sure.”

“Not everywhere … Just where we thought boys might hide to escape a class or a chore. And then, with the horse gone, and your pack …”

“Yes. I suggest you send someone down to the marketplace and see if my horse is for sale or if a horse of that description sold yesterday. Dark bay, looks black from a distance, touch of white on the off rear pastern. Well-built, no brands or other marks. If he’s there, he knows my call—better the whistle that was in my pack, but that’s conveniently gone. My pack would be easy to lose down any cistern.”