“That may be true, my lord, but they thought you no longer cared. Should they seek a runaway?” In that Arcolin heard the same arrogance that had sent him away. “And besides,” Samdal went on, “I can see what they could not: the man you have become. You were Camwyn’s child first, fire-begotten. Your father knew that; I know he gave you marks of heritage.” Another glance at the ring. “What is a northern dirt-farmer like Gird to such as you? Is not the scent of dragon on you even now?”

Arcolin tried not to shudder visibly. Samdal could not tell, he was sure, and yet Samdal was of the old blood in the Westmounts … and he himself certainly had touched a dragon. Legend had it that such things were possible; the dragon could have left its scent on him, and Samdal might have the Kingfinder’s ability to detect it. He wondered if his gnome subjects could. “I am a mercenary and a peer in the north,” he said to Samdal. “That is who I am now.”

Samdal shook his head. “You do not understand, and I scarcely understand you. Please, my lord, listen to me and then answer.”

Arcolin sighed inwardly. He could not imagine himself returning to Horngard, but he did want to know what had happened. “Come into my tent, then,” he said. Inside, Samdal looked around at the furniture, the hangings, the rugs—all Kieri’s originally. To the guard outside Arcolin said, “Ask the cook for a platter, and fetch a bottle of wine.” To Samdal he said, “Sit down; we will share bread and salt and wine. But understand: after all these hands of years, I have oaths and duties elsewhere. My king, Mikeli of Tsaia, depends on me to defend the realm at need. My former commander is now the king of Lyonya, as I said; he no longer holds my oath, but he holds my respect, and my king considers him an ally. This Company—three hundred strong in Aarenis with more in the north—is my responsibility as well. So whatever it is you want, beyond my well-wishing to you and to Horngard, it is too late.”

“Is that what you learned in foreign places?” Samdal glanced around once more, then sat where Arcolin had indicated, stiffly upright as a judge. “That duty long deferred is no longer duty? All this luxury, my lord, has softened you.”

Arcolin felt a rush of anger. He could scarcely believe that Samdal would insult him so. “If you think me soft, then you will agree I am unfit for the task you propose.”