I don’t know how I’m going to explain to the king that I’m now a gnome prince,” Arcolin said to Selfer after they were back in quarters. “It’s ridiculous. I can’t be a gnome; I don’t know their Law…”

“I don’t see that you have a choice, my lord,” Selfer said. He wasn’t grinning, which was a mercy.

“And defining a uniform for them—I gave them the cloth we had, not gray. It’s all wrong. They didn’t tell me.”

“You could order gray cloth, have it sent up.”

“I could, but—I know it’s the details, and I don’t know anything about that.”

“Dattur probably does.”

“I suppose. But it’s one more thing…” He shook his head. “And that Arvid fellow: Marshal Steralt wants my opinion of him. What’s yours?”

“He’s been honest with us, my lord. He’s passed on useful information. Fought off thieves at the inn, too, one night. Killed ’em. Jostin at the Dragon has only praise for him. He’s in danger now; I know that.”

The next morning, Arcolin confirmed the proxy oaths, then rode across town to find Nasimir Clart. Clart was in the common room of his company’s lodgings, eating an early lunch.

“Thank you for helping out,” Arcolin said. He waved a waiter over and ordered sib and the cheese crisps this inn was known for.

“Ivats enjoyed his time with you, but you can’t have him. I hold his contract for another two years,” Clart said, grinning.

“I’m not trying to poach,” Arcolin said. “Thought you might like the latest news from the north, firsthand.”

“You’re prospering, I can see that,” Clart said. “Count, isn’t it? Should I bend the knee?”

“Hardly,” Arcolin said, grinning. “You’ve heard about the war up there?”

“Business?” Clart leaned forward.

“No. War’s over. Pargun attacked Lyonya; they were repelled. Halveric won’t be coming south again for a long time, though—Phelan’s hired them as the core of a standing army. And they’re short—they lost nearly a cohort in the war.”

“Tsaia?”

“Worried about unrest in the South, but with Pargun out of contention, things are much calmer. I’ve told my king about Alured the Black.” Arcolin took a bite of the little triangular cheese pastries. “My king let me bring the whole Company south; last year he wouldn’t. I’m hoping to recruit more this year.”

“Some strange rumors going around,” Clart said. “A mysterious treasure in the north—or treasure from the north.” He raised one eyebrow as he reached for his mug.

“From the north maybe,” Arcolin said, treading carefully around his king’s prohibitions. “There was a necklace stolen from Fin Panir—from the Girdish treasury.”

“Necklace … doesn’t sound like what I was hearing.” Clart wiped his mouth.

“Someone was killed for the necklace,” Arcolin said.