“As you wish, my lord,” the cook said. “Lucky it’s just the children. Wouldn’t have enough if it was to hold down that many adults. Trader hasn’t come through yet this year.”

“Trader?”

“The one brings us this and other things. Gnurtz comes from far away somewhere.”

Something else to worry about.

“And for your dinner, my lord? You haven’t said what you want. And if I could know what you need for tomorrow, that would help … those soldiers you brought with you have their own supplies, they said …”

Dorrin looked around the kitchen; all the cooks and helpers stopped at once and stared at her. Through her worry, kitchen fragrances finally reached her awareness.

“What are you preparing for the children and yourselves?”

“For the children, my lord? Their usual supper: milky porridge, rusks, a honeycake. For the servants, soup and bread.”

She remembered the taste of milky porridge and rusks from her own childhood, the hard toasted crusts of bread softening slowly in the milk. Honeycakes, hard as wood, to suck on while waiting for the maids to warm the beds with coals in a pan. If they were annoyed, your bed would be ice-cold in winter.

“I didn’t dare put on a haunch of venison for your own dinner, my lord, without your telling me, but I could do a steak—”

“Soup and bread will do well tonight,” Dorrin said. “And cheese.” Though the cook seemed honest enough, it might be well to eat what the servants ate for a while longer.

The cook looked surprised, but nodded. “And for the Captain out there?”

“The same,” Dorrin said. “Dinner for two. Soup, bread, cheese.” The soup, now that she was aware of the fragrance, smelled delicious. She walked over to the hearth and sniffed, then smiled at them all and went to find Selfer again.

The funeral escort had just returned; Selfer sent them to the stables to put up the animals. “And be ready for inspection in a half-glass,” he said.

“Inspection … again?” one of them asked.

“Inspection any time,” Selfer said, in a tone that stiffened them all. “At least twice a day until you meet the requirements of a decent militia. I expect those boots to shine.”

The Phelani bit their lips not to grin, and led off at a brisk pace. Selfer turned to Dorrin. “Courier’s well on his way. Seli will report on the situation in the vill when that lot are cleaned up.”

“I think they’ll do,” Dorrin said.

“With some training,” Selfer said.

“Oh, yes. My relatives never liked their servants to learn too much. Easier to control the dull and incompetent, especially the ones with weapons.”

“People treated that way become sly in self-defense,” Selfer said. “How are you going to teach them honesty at their age?”

Dorrin shook her head. “I can’t. But I can reward honesty; greed produces whatever brings reward.”

“I hope so,” Selfer said. “What did you learn in the kitchen this time? Are we having a real dinner, or more bread and cheese?” He rubbed his stomach and put on a pitiful expression.