Dorrin could not help considering the irony that although girls were considered more vulnerable, and thus rarely had a chance to serve as squires, her one female squire had caused no problems at all, while both Beclan and Daryan had—well, it wasn’t fair to say that Daryan had gotten himself in trouble—but say rather both had fallen into trouble. Gwenno Marrakai appeared to have no problems other than those any lively girl would generate at her age. Gwenno, who had grown up with a houseful of other younglings, including a full suite of brothers, handled the attention she received with ease.

Dorrin could have envied her—did envy her, she admitted—the kind of family life Gwenno had as a child. The girl seemed highly intelligent, energetic, good-natured, and uncomplicated, which made it easy to spend her time and thought on Daryan and Beclan, especially Beclan. And yet—even if Gwenno could learn by herself—that wasn’t what her family had intended when they asked Dorrin to accept her as a squire.

She had planned this afternoon’s meeting for that reason, and when she heard Gwenno’s cheery greeting to the cooks on her way through the kitchen, she could not help smiling. Gwenno appeared in the office door with a plate of pastries, one already in her mouth.

“Sorry, my lord,” she said after setting the plate on Dorrin’s desk and removing the pastry from her mouth. “I just couldn’t resist the smell.”

The pastries did smell good. Farin had reported ample supplies of butter and honey for the king’s visit to come. Dorrin picked one up and left Gwenno to pour the sib, then gestured for her to sit down. “When you’re through with that one,” Dorrin said, “tell me about your patrol.” She bit into the pastry. A warm soft-cheese filling, lightly spiced.

Gwenno ate quickly, took two swallows of sib, and plunged in. She had noticed everything, it seemed: the land, the woods, the crops, the livestock. Though Daryan had been better at patrol reports early on, with his more methodical way of approaching things, Gwenno had learned. Now Dorrin got a vivid picture of conditions along her patrol route—conditions that continued to improve with time.

“And I met Marshal Daltor in Nin’s Well—that’s near Lower Hedgy; we both talked to the people, and I think they’re not so afraid of Gird now.” She picked up another pastry.

“Excellent,” Dorrin said. “Now—the courier came with word that the king would soon leave Vérella. You will stay here through the visit, as will Daryan. By the king’s command, Beclan will remain until the king arrives. We will have a day’s warning; I’m sending someone to Harway to ride here at speed.”

“I could do that,” Gwenno said, as energetic as if she were not just in from patrol.