Arvid felt himself flushing. “No. We spent only one night in Fiveway, and I was more concerned to avoid the thieves I knew infested it. And no more than one night in any town since.”

“Gird said nothing to you about that?”

“No.”

“Well, now you’re in Fintha—and even more, in Fin Panir—you’ll need to attend drill regularly. For the time being, that’s at Marshal Cedlin’s grange; I’ll include that in my note to him. I want you to tell me—and him—about any instance that Gird speaks to you. Now, for employment—you write a fair hand, do you not?”

“Yes,” Arvid said.

“Good. I need someone to compile the notes I’ve made during recent meetings into a coherent report. Our scribes are overloaded. Will you accept that employment?”

“Yes,” Arvid said, “though I do not want to be away from the boy all day.”

“A half-day, mornings,” she said. “He can go to the grange for his schooling then. Will that suit?”

“Yes,” Arvid said. He did not want to ask how much, but she was already answering that.

“It will pay for your board at the inn, and we’ll take care of your mounts if you’ll agree to lend them—two of them, anyway—when we need them.”

“Certainly. Use all of them, if you can.”

“You’ll start tomorrow. I’ll write the note now, and you can take it as introduction to Marshal Cedlin.”

Marshal Cedlin accepted both Arvid and the boy into the grange community without demur. Whatever the Marshal-General had written, she had, Arvid suspected, left out the part about his having been a Thieves’ Guild enforcer.

“Certainly your son should spend his mornings here, at least until he’s caught up in his schooling,” Marshal Cedlin said. “He’s not too old and seems a bright lad; he should make good progress.” He turned to the boy. “Young Arvid, you’ll be working with my yeoman-marshal Geddes for the time being. The barton’s through that door; he’s teaching now. Just take him this note.”

“Yes, Marshal,” the boy said, ducking his head, then went as he was bid.

“And polite, too,” Marshal Cedlin said to Arvid. “It must have been a wrench to have him stolen away, and Gird’s own grace you found him again.”

“Indeed it was,” Arvid said.

“Well—and you a late convert and in your first year. The Marshal-General says you read and write well—and she’s hired you as a scribe, so that must be so. Then you’re ready to go beyond the Ten Fingers, I’m thinking, and should start learning the Code itself. You have your evenings free, but for drill nights; you can start on the first book, and we’ll see how you get on. Let’s trade blows, so I can assign you to a drill group.” He grinned at Arvid’s expression. “Small grange, was it, there in Ifoss? Most men aren’t Girdish there, I know. Here we’re full every night, and we have groups according to skill.”