“So you did, and I should’ve listened. Last time I’ll take a job like that, but I thought it’d be easier than hauling freight to Valdaire.” To the headman, Arvid said, “Help us turn the team, will you? Do you think your friend will stick an arrow in us?” He unfastened the choke-cord as he spoke.

“N-no,” the man said.

Nothing happened while the team was being turned, convincing Arvid that the enemy didn’t have the manpower to attack, just enough to scare the villagers. Someone’s wife or child was probably a hostage.

“Get in, but stay low,” he said to Regar. “Down in front of the seat. It’s going to be rough.” Instead of mounting the wagon, he took the reins, as if inspecting the harness, then stepped on the trace and threw himself on the wheeler’s back, yelling and laying a whip on the lead pair. They squealed and bolted, as did the wheelers.

Nobody followed, somewhat to his surprise, but back at the Fox Company camp, he found four arrows in the tailboard and the back of the driver’s seat. He had slowed the team once he was sure they weren’t being followed but continued to ride the wheeler until they were in sight of the camp. Then he dismounted, climbed up onto the driving seat with Regar, and proceeded at a walk. Arcolin wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“We could have died,” Regar said when the team had moved on.

“Yes. It was close,” Arvid said.

“You knew what to do.”

“I knew some things to try. I didn’t know they’d work. We were lucky.” He sighed. “Regar, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. You have family—”

“You said you had a son—”

“I do. But he’s in Valdaire—well, actually not in Valdaire but near it—being cared for by a grange. Your family’s here, vulnerable, and there are more of them.”

Regar scowled at him. “You’re worried about me?”

“It’s not an insult, dammit,” Arvid said. “It’s just a fact. Marshal Porfur didn’t know working with me on something as simple as hauling supplies to Fox Company could put you in such danger, nor did I.”

“I’m not dead,” Regar said. “Or injured. And I did grab that man—”

“So you did, and I’m grateful. Let’s not quarrel now. We’re supposed to be learning not to quarrel, aren’t we?”

Regar snorted, half annoyance and half amusement. “Marshal’s been at me about that for years. It’s my nature.”

Arvid raised his brows. “If Gird’s making me quit being a thief, don’t you think Gird might make you quit being quarrelsome?”

Silence from Regar. Arvid sneaked a look at him. Regar actually looked thoughtful. At the camp entrance, Arvid reined in. “Where’s Count Arcolin?” he asked the sentry.