But he is blind, and like to remain so. Despite this, he has been drilling with my yeomen, greatly to their improvement, I may say. The first time he attempted unarmed fighting, with the biggest in my grange, he threw him down. Though he is not yet recovered to his full strength, I judge his health improved enough to leave the grange, and so does he. The Council, at the urging of all three Marshals and the Captain of Tir whom you met, and also a Captain of Falk you did not meet, awarded him a small pension, enough to survive on if he chooses to stay. I understand he will have a pension from your Company as well. He knows of the pension but has said nothing to me. He wants to know your will in this and considers himself still under your orders.

Arñe’s letter was less formal:

Captain,

Sergeant Stammel is well and strengthening daily, but he is blind. We have all done what we can; Suli has a blind uncle and so guides him the most. We have been calling her Stammel’s eyes. I know—

That part was scratched out. Arñe added,

He wants to come back, but he won’t ask. He would do any work you gave him.

What work could he give a blind man when they might be in combat at any time? Yes, he had hired a half-blind captain, but the man still had one eye. Stammel … Arcolin squeezed his eyes against the thought of telling Stammel he must leave the Company. At least he must take Stammel back north, back to the stronghold, to safety. He called Burek into his tent and showed him the letters.

“Blind!” Burek said. “I thought he would live or die, and if he lived, recover.”

“It is … hard to imagine,” Arcolin said. “Hard for us all; you knew him only a short while, but for many of us …”

“You will pension him, surely.”

“I will think,” Arcolin said. “Go find Devlin and send him to me.” Devlin, who had been Stammel’s corporal for so long before the disruptions of Siniava’s War had promoted him.

“You have word,” Devlin said as he came into the tent.

“He’s alive, but blind,” Arcolin said. Devlin looked stunned, the way he himself felt. “He can walk; he can even drill, after a fashion. He threw a yeoman in an unarmed fighting drill. The Marshal pressured the Council to give him a small pension, if he wants to stay there, and will find him a room in someone’s house.”

“No,” Devlin said. “No, that can’t be.”

“I’m sorry,” Arcolin said. “But it’s true.”

“That’s not what I meant, sir. I understand: he’s blind. But he can’t—he will die—if he’s penned up in some spare room, alone, without us. Sir, you have to bring him here. He can walk; he can march with us. If he can drill, he’ll get stronger. He knows so much—he can teach me, and Arñe and Jenits and the rest.”