“Filthy business,” the caravan master said. “They’re calling him the Black Duke now all over the east, from Cilwan on. Worse than Siniava. It’s said he has the old magery and can kill with a glance. That he has fever demons in his service—though I expect it’s as like to be jugs of foulness poured into wells. We know he has assassins; we’ve lost two of our Council to assassins this past year. One admitted he was pressured to speak with Immer’s voice and was killed within the same day’s round. The brigands on the road between Koury and us are grown bolder.”

“The trouble we had in Vonja’s outbounds,” Arcolin said, “I lay to Immer’s account. Did Vonja tell the other cities?”

“Not us.”

Arcolin quickly recounted the evidence for some outside power.

“And you found counterfeiters’ dies—just for Vonja?”

“Yes. But I’m sure the same exist for every city in the League, a way to create distrust among you.”

The caravan master nodded. “Distrust there is, for certain. Koury has spoken of leaving the League, since it cannot keep the road between us free of brigands; Merinath the same, and blames Sorellin for dangers. We lack the means to patrol all that. We found counterfeit among our own coins, summer before last. Cost us a contract renewal with Golden Company. I am not even sure I trust everyone in my caravan, though I spoke to each, even the least.” He shook his head, his expression gloomy, as he stared at the Fox Company wagons now trundling past. “It’s good you’re here; the Foss Council Speaker told me they’d hired you. I’m sure they’ll tell you what I reported, but I thought you’d rather have it from me.”

“Indeed so,” Arcolin said. “Thank you.” He had noticed that his first wagon had the tailboard neatly fastened up, and no one could have told that it carried two passengers, a former thief and a gnome.

“I don’t know what gods we’ve offended to get another Siniava, or worse. And if he can dispose of one city at a time—”

No need to answer that. They both sat, silent on their horses, as the last Fox Company wagon passed. Then the caravan master reached out; Arcolin clasped arms with him, turned his horse back across the road, crossed the ditch on the far side, and cantered along the grass way until he reached the head of the line again, where he rejoined Cracolnya and Garralt. He told them what the caravan master had said.