“Marshal, everyone knows she’s defending magery, especially in children, and that she’s got you and the other city Marshals convinced—under her thumb is how people put it. There’s a lot of ’em don’t like the idea of magery at all and blame her for it coming back. They say she’s afraid of magery and that’s why she won’t stamp it out. Or that she’s a magelord herself and that’s why she sent the expedition to the west. That she’s too weak and too old to be Marshal-General. They want someone else—a man who’s against magery, specifically.” Arvid paused for breath. “I didn’t realize it before you sent me out to look, but—I’ve been through this m’self, sir. Someone’s stirring ’em up; someone wants to be where she is, just like my number two in the Vérella Guild did. There’s a revolt coming, Marshal. I don’t think they’ll wait for the Evener to cast her out. She’s dead, if she doesn’t take care.”

“She had to kill a Marshal back in spring, before you got here,” the Marshal said. “He challenged her to a trial of arms in the High Lord’s Hall. That should have settled it.”

“It didn’t. Talk is, she murdered him in cold blood.”

“What! How did you—I’ve been up and down the city myself, and I haven’t heard this. Nor my yeoman-marshals.”

“You’re known to be on her side, Marshal. People don’t know me as one of hers even though I work up the hill. They know I’m a newcomer who may not be in the Marshal-General’s camp.”

“Are you?” The Marshal’s look was sharp, challenging.

“I’m telling you this.” Arvid gave him the same look. “If I’d known before all I know now, I’d have told you earlier.”

“Do you have any idea when something will happen?”

“As I said, before the Evener. Or as soon as a day or two, perhaps. Even this night. That’s why I didn’t wait until after drill to tell you. Several of the angriest people today mentioned someone coming in from outside and meeting someone up the hill, ‘ready to give the signal,’ one of them said. Then he darted back into an alley. No names, though.”