She had little appetite after that thought and sat waiting while the others finished.

“Is the chicken too dry, m’lord? I did it just like Cook taught me—”

“The chicken’s fine, Efla.” Dorrin forced herself to eat the last of it. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

After supper, all of Dorrin’s people except Jaim, who refused, went to see Jori one last time. Eddes and Efla broke down, sobbing; the other three stood a few minutes and then walked out. When they had all left, the yeomen of the burial guild wrapped Jori’s head until nothing could be seen but the white strips of cloth. Dorrin waited until it was done and then, as the Marshal-Judicar had quietly suggested, gave Kosa a Tsaian gold coin wrapped in a white cloth as a grange-gift.

Before she left, the Marshal-General took Dorrin aside from the others. “Do not take this amiss,” she said, “but because of your family, no Marshal-General—no High Marshal, even—has visited your family’s domain for a very long time. With your permission, I would accompany you eastward—meet with any Girdsmen in Verrakai lands, and perhaps—if some evil still lingers—be of assistance.” Dorrin said nothing for a moment, and the Marshal-General went on. “It is not out of suspicion of you yourself, not now. But you are one alone and cannot be everywhere all the time.” She smiled. “And as Paksenarrion is there, perhaps she will ride back with me to Fin Panir to see the necklace.”

Dorrin shook off the heavy grief she felt for Jori’s death. “Of course you can come, Marshal-General.” How many, she wondered, would the Marshal-General bring along?

“I travel light,” the Marshal-General said. “And since I’ll be with you, I need no other escort.”

Dorrin blinked in surprise, but the Marshal-General waved a farewell and went out into the night.

At first light, four more yeomen in the burial guild appeared out of the fog. Dorrin had all her people up and dressed in their best; at the Marshal-General’s recommendation, she wore court semidress. After days of clear skies, the fog felt chilly and dank. It seemed appropriate. The burial guild carried Jori’s corpse, and the others followed. At the grange, Marshal Tamis waited for them, then led the way out of the city. Guards at the south gate let them through. The fog thinned, and a thin drizzle started. Tamis went down the road Dorrin had ridden so often, then turned aside to the west. Dorrin estimated they walked another ladyglass, wetter every step, until they arrived at a field set off with white stones. Two yeomen stood beside an open grave.

Dorrin had seen Marshals in Aarenis but had not paid much attention to the details of the funerals. Now, as the burial guild folded the pall and handed it to her, lifted Jori’s body reverently, and eased it into the grave, she felt an unexpected comfort.