“As long as you mean to follow them,” Porfur said. “Let me see your letters, please.” When Arvid handed them over, Porfur moved to the light at the door and read them carefully. “Did you see that relic come alight?” he asked, looking at Arcolin.

“No, Marshal. I wasn’t in Valdaire then. But I talked to Marshal Steralt about him, and will stand as his sponsor.”

“And you told Marshal Steralt in Valdaire that you had been a thief … even a Guildmaster?” Now Porfur looked at Arvid.

“Yes, Marshal,” Arvid said.

“And you now foreswear that allegiance?”

Arvid took a long breath, then let it out sharply. “Yes, Marshal.”

“Do you have tokens of identity with the Guild?”

“Yes, Marshal.” Arvid fished out the familiar medal and held it out. “I would not advise any person unfamiliar with thieves’ ways to use it.”

“I don’t want to use it!” Marshal Porfur sounded so shocked that Arcolin almost laughed.

“Marshal, sometimes one wants to … to infiltrate another … um … operation.”

Porfur scowled. “You think the Marshal-General wants you to do that?”

“She did ask me to trace stolen property,” Arvid said. “I suppose she has others who might be asked to do other things.”

“Then you keep it. I trust the gods will punish you if you revert to thievery.”

“Perhaps Count Arcolin would keep it for me,” Arvid said.

“Me? Not likely,” Arcolin said. “I have a mercenary company to take care of. The Marshal-General’s not going to ask me to run her errands.”

“Put it away,” Porfur said. “Now, Arvid: you will stand on the platform and recite the Ten Fingers.”

Arvid stepped up onto the platform, and—for a man who claimed he found them confusing—recited the Ten Fingers with only a few mistakes. Arcolin suspected those were deliberate, but Arvid seemed to take the subsequent oath with due seriousness.

The exchange of blows almost went very wrong indeed, but Arvid was able to pull his thrust at the last moment; Porfur was not that good.

“I need not worry about your fighting skills, I see,” Porfur said. “But that does not excuse you from grange duties, Arvid. All newly sworn yeomen must come to drill night every hand of days for a year, barring illness or an excused absence. When the campaign season is over, I will send a letter for you to give to a grange in Valdaire, if you stay there with Count Arcolin, or wherever you go after that. Should Count Arcolin need to move the troops, he will tell me, and I will arrange something for you.”

“Thank you, Marshal,” Arcolin said. “If I have other troops with no duties, I presume they’re welcome to come along to drill night?”

“Of course. We go a year and more here without visitors, so they’re always welcome.”

On the way back to the camp, Arvid said, “Drill? Every five days? With…”