“Da! Supper’s ready. I’m hungry!” The boy wasn’t even hip high on Regar and skinny as Arvid’s own son. He wore a ragged shirt that hung to his knees. The girl the woman held back wore the same, but with a patched vest and skirt as well.

“We’ve not enough for the both of you,” the woman said, eyeing Arvid. “If you must eat together, let him feed you. And what are you going to tell Invarr, when he comes in the morning to see your progress?”

“I’ll go there now and tell him,” Regar said.

“Do, then. Come, Carn, don’t be making a scene in the street.” She turned away; the boy hugged Regar and ran after her into the house.

“There’s an inn—” Arvid began.

Regar shook his head. “I must find Invarr; she’s right. He comes once a hand of days, and tomorrow’s his day. I must not lose this contract.”

“How many children do you have?” Arvid asked.

“Seven,” Regar said. “Two from my first wife, one of them ’prenticed out. Five of Lia’s.”

They had crossed back to the main street and now came to a much larger house in the area Arvid recognized as wealthy. Regar tapped on a door; a servant opened it. “What do you want?”

“I need to speak to Invarr,” Regar said. His hand moved toward his waist, where his purse hung.

The servant wrinkled his nose. “About what?”

“About a matter concerning Invarr,” Arvid said. “Pray inform him.”

“Who are you?”

Arvid said, “Arvid Burin, a merchant associated with Fox Company and with Mason Regar.”

The servant withdrew, shutting the door.

“Why’d you interfere?” Regar said.

“Because he’s playing you,” Arvid said. “You were going to bribe him, weren’t you? Just to do what he’s hired for: tell this Invarr you need to speak to him.”

“It’s not a bribe,” Regar said. “Exactly…”

“It is a bribe exactly. You’re a master craftsman in good standing, right? And a Girdish yeoman? You deserve respect; you don’t have to bribe another man’s servants.”

Regar chewed that over for a moment. “You think I deserve respect?”

“Yes,” Arvid said firmly. “He’s coming back.”

“How do you know?”

“I have very good hearing.”

The door opened again. The servant glared at them. “Master Invarr will see you when he has finished eating. You—”

“We will come in and wait,” Arvid said. He stepped forward; the servant gave way, sputtering.

“But you’re—and he’s—”

“It’s honest sweat,” Arvid said, having more fun than he’d had since he’d left Valdaire. “We’ve been to drill at the grange. Aren’t you Girdish?”

“Me? Uh … no.”

“Well, we are, and it’s because of events at the grange that we must speak with Master Invarr.”

“Both of you…”