Invarr chuckled. “Everyone knows you have a temper, Regar. But I know you to be an excellent mason. So long as my warehouse is built and you do not strike me, I am content. Will you need more time, then?”

Regar’s “Maybe” overlaid Arvid’s “No.”

Invarr nodded at Regar. “As your contract is with me, I thank you for your honesty in coming this evening and admitting the building may be delayed. If you must spend every other day learning merchanting—for how many days?”

“Ten, if we satisfy the Marshal that our quarrel has ended,” Arvid said.

“Not much delay, then, even if Ser Burin proves an inept pupil,” Invarr said. “It is well. Shall I come tomorrow or the following day? Or wait until the end of ten?”

“The following day, ser, if you could,” Regar said. “Tomorrow the Marshal declared I must assist Arvid.”

“Fine, then.” Invarr had an expression Arvid feared was pure mischief, and his next words proved it. “Perhaps tomorrow I will see what commodities Ser Burin might have to trade with me: two merchants should know each other.”

“Thank you, ser,” Arvid said, bowing again. “You are most gracious, and I would welcome the chance to learn local customs. You should know I am contracted as sutler to Fox Company.”

“We’ll see,” Invarr said. He opened the door for them himself and bade them a pleasant evening.

They had hardly walked past the end of the house before Regar stopped. “That was … that was not entirely honest.”

“No? But we are not cheating Invarr. I will work honestly for you, and his warehouse will be built, will it not? Do you think his concerns really run to every detail of our quarrel?”

“No, but—”

“His servant will hate me and not you,” Arvid said. “Clearly I am the one to blame for your resistance this day, though frankly I think you might refuse to give another bribe. Especially since his master clearly does respect you.”

“He does?”

“He called you Master Regar and hired you to build a warehouse,” Arvid said. “That’s not a small commission; he would not hire someone he did not respect. Not a bad man, Invarr.”

“He’s rich.”

“If you think rich is bad, you will never be rich, Regar, and with all those children you should not despise money. Come—I need to let Count Arcolin know you’ll be staying with me in camp.”

At the end of that street the four soldiers waited, propped against a wall. “You all right, sir?” asked one.

“Fine,” Arvid said. “Making sure we get to camp or that we follow the Marshal’s orders?”

“Might be a bit of both.”

“Is Cela’s still open?”

“Nah—only the Blue Mule.”

Arvid fumbled in his belt pouch. “Will one of you go to the Mule and bring back two meals to the camp? I need to speak to the Count.”