“Yes,” Arvid said. “We have a room there. I’m wondering about the horses. Now we’re here, we don’t need all four, and there’s no stable room at the inn.”

“If you’re staying, they could go out on the common meadows. Rough grazing, but there’s a hand of watchers to keep trouble away.

“I don’t know how long we’ll stay, exactly,” Arvid said. “Can they bide here overnight?”

“Oh, surely. That’s never a problem, one night. You’ve brushed ’em out, I see—any hoof problems?”

“No.”

“Well, then. They’ll do fine overnight, I’d think. If you come up in the morning and give a hand mucking out—do any of ’em work in harness?”

“I’m not sure,” Arvid said. “We think this one might, but I bought him as a safe ride for a novice. He’s been that.”

Helfran nodded. “All these fancy horses about—knights and Marshals and such—we can always use another horse that works. Your four are well mannered, not like those down there.” A squeal and a clatter of hooves came from the last section of the paddock.

Arvid wondered whether to wait for the Marshal-General in the courtyard or go back to the inn.

“Why not show the lad the High Lord’s Hall?” Helfran asked.

A shiver ran down Arvid’s back. He had avoided the High Lord’s Hall on that earlier visit; he still felt uneasy nearing a holy place. And yet—he had held a relic of Gird that came alight in his hand. “Why not?” he said to Helfran, and to the boy, “Come along—let’s see.”

Men and women in the blue tunics of Marshals and the mail and surcoats of Knights of Gird moved about the courtyard, all clearly with a destination in mind. Some were going into the High Lord’s Hall, and others coming out. Two armed men stood at the doors, like guards, but they stopped no one. Arvid and his son went in.

Light no longer flooded the eastern window, but shone through the stained glass of the south windows spreading splashes of color over the stone floor. From outside, the windows had looked dark and flat; now they glowed, even those on the north side. Arvid and the boy stood, astonished—and someone wanting to pass tapped Arvid gently on the shoulder. “First time?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Arvid said. The man wore a chain with a large medallion of Gird hanging from it and had an engaging grin.

“If I were you, with the light this time of year, I’d choose a seat up there—” He pointed to some benches along the north side. “Stay as long as you like. The place will fill up when the afternoon sessions are done.” He smiled a last time and strode off across the hall to the far side.