When it was over and the crowd had edged out of the crowded grange, dispersing into clumps and obviously reliving their actions, Marshal Porfur called Arcolin and Arvid into his private office and shut the door. It was stuffy, and Arvid wondered why he didn’t at least open the separate outside door.

“What is it, Marshal?” Arcolin asked. “Do you want to ask Ifoss Council to authorize a squad of my men to help the city militia?”

“No,” Marshal Porfur said. “It’s Arvid. He’s told me he hears the voice of Gird in his head.”

“Um.” Arcolin looked at Arvid and back at the Marshal. “And why are you telling me?”

“I’m not telling everyone, you notice. You, because you brought him here and stood sponsor for him. Has he acted strangely since you met him in Valdaire?”

“Other than being a thief trying to turn honest? No, I wouldn’t say so.”

“I think the same,” Marshal Porfur said. “But—you do not hear Gird’s voice in your head, do you?”

“Not commonly,” Arcolin said. “I mean—there’s a sense, sometimes a strong one, of what I should do, but it’s not … not someone else.”

“So. Madmen hear voices—you’ve seen those poor souls, I expect, convinced that some god told them to eat pebbles or go about naked or stand on one foot until they fell over—”

“Or pick up a sword and stab the next person wearing green—yes, Marshal. Pitiable, mostly; dangerous, sometimes. Arvid, as I’ve said, is nothing like that. I knew back in Valdaire that he was distressed—that he felt he’d changed in some way since he rescued Paks, but I thought of that as her influence, perhaps, turning him away from evil and toward the good.”

“From Paksenarrion to Gird is a short stride,” Marshal Porfur said. “Arvid tells me Paks said Gird might have a use for the Thieves’ Guild—but Gird might also have a use for Arvid himself—and be guiding him directly.”

“And you do not want others to know,” Arcolin said. He glanced at Arvid again, then turned back to the Marshal. “Madmen generally tell everyone about the voices they hear—they are eager for others to know. Arvid has not.”

“Yes. I am not saying he is mad, Count Arcolin. I think he does hear Gird’s voice. I could wish for that—”

“No, you don’t,” Arvid said. “It’s not what you think—”

“I think nothing,” said Marshal Porfur, “because I have never heard it.”

“It’s not … comfortable,” Arvid said.

“I wouldn’t expect it to be for someone with a great change to make,” Marshal Porfur said. Arvid said nothing, and after waiting, Porfur nodded. “Well, then,” he went on. “You’re willing to listen to Gird; you even began listening to me after a while. You can be taught. And the place for you to learn is not here.”