“You stay, then,” Arcolin said. “Teach me kaprist-islik; teach me Law.” Dattur bowed. He did not smile, but Arcolin sensed approval of his decision. He was not sure whether Dattur really wanted to stay in Aarenis with him—if this represented some power play on the part of that gnome—or if he wanted to be sure his new prince learned how to be a gnome. Dattur continued to wear human clothes in his size, shifting to darker colors but not into gray, though Arcolin offered again to supply cloth.

“When in halls,” Dattur said. “When prince tells estvin Dattur is not kteknik, then clothes … but others will have made cloth by then.”

In the meantime, Dattur took over duties somewhere between personal servant and squire. He even joined in Company weapons practice. Arcolin had done his best to explain to the troops what Dattur’s position was, so no one laughed outright when he lined up in formation that first time with hauk and shield … and no one thought of laughing again after that first bruising practice.

“I had no idea,” Burek said, after watching Dattur demolish an opposing line. “I thought he’d be trampled.”

“Rock strength,” Arcolin said, though he, too, was surprised. “In the north, we’re told that the gnomes taught Father Gird warfare, but nobody’s seen them fight for lifetimes.” Just as well, he thought, that no humans had provoked them to it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Andressat

Filis Andressat rode eastward out of Cortes Andres before dawn, across the gently rolling hills below the escarpment. On this familiar journey—for he visited Cortes Cilwan on Andressat’s business at least twice a year—he had refused his father’s offer of an escort. He would spend Midsummer at Cortes Cilwan without having to endure insinuations from the regent that quartering his escort and their horses was a drain on the boy count’s resources.

By the time he got back, maybe his father and brothers would have given over their harping on his attitude toward that bastard. At least the man had had the sense to know he could not fit in and had taken himself back to Fox Company. This half-year later, Filis recognized that Burek was—though a bastard—the kind of man he himself would have liked as a brother or nephew if only Burek had not been Ferran’s get on a servant. By all accounts, he was a fine young officer. But the public scolding the Count had given Filis for that earlier outburst still rankled, and the constant comments by his brothers did nothing to make Cortes Andres comfortable.

The cool morning mist burned away quickly, summer’s steamy heat replacing it. Filis stayed to the shadier forest tracks as long as he could and by evening had come to his own command, the easternmost Andressat fort. He gave his captain the latest news from Cortes Andres and left his usual orders, as he did before every absence.