“Do you miss it?” Arcolin asked without answering the question.

Arneson stared at his hands a long moment. “Sometimes. The smell of the orchards … the foods … and the markets … I have no complaints, my lord. I am fortunate to be here and have this position. But Valdaire—you know yourself—the morning light on the mountains—”

“Oh, yes,” Arcolin said. “You know—I think I told you—I’m from the south originally myself. Not Valdaire, but I love Valdaire. And this is very quiet.”

“I’ve come to love this, too,” Arneson said. “I like the quiet—and it’s never as hot. The people here have been wonderful to me; they understand me, and I understand them. And I do enjoy working with recruits.”

“Has Valichi dropped in to give you the benefit of his wisdom?”

“Once or twice, early on. The last time, he smacked my shoulder and said it was high time I made my own traditions, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s good. Val was recruit captain so long, I was afraid he might nag you too much.” Arcolin took a breath. “The situation in the south has worsened—not so much while I was there as what I heard from a courier some days after I arrived in Vérella. The new Duke of Immer abducted Andressat’s youngest son—” He told the rest of it; Arneson listened intently. “King Mikeli is concerned, of course, and I understand the Guild League even more so, as you may imagine. By report, the man has powers similar to those of magelords. Whether they come from within or by blood magery, we do not know. I will need those recruits next year for certain.”

“Yes, my lord, I understand.”

“I must speak with Count Halar again before taking Kaim down there. It’s likely to be a bloody year.”

“If I may—send the lad home for Midwinter. He hasn’t asked, but a chance to be with his family for a while may clarify for him and his family both what they really want for him.” Arneson rubbed his chin. “He’s a good lad: a hard worker, obedient, no trouble, and should make a good officer someday. But I’d say a year young to see the worst of war in the south if that’s what’s coming.”

“Will he sour with another year up here? Would you have him?”

“Yes, of course I’d have him. From his side … I don’t know. That age … he’s matured a lot, seeing what the training is really like, but for all that we don’t recruit them that young.”

A tap at the door; when Arcolin looked up, Calla was there. “I put Jamis to bed, and the cook’s called dinner. Shall we eat here or—”

“Downstairs,” Arcolin said. “Captain, this is my wife—and this is Captain Arneson, who commands the recruit cohort.”

Arneson stood. “My lady—my honor.”