“I need more than one,” Arcolin said. “We’re short of captains—and I haven’t told you about Dorrin.”

“Dorrin! Was she killed?”

“No. But the prince and Council have named her the new Duke of Verrakai.”

M’dierra stared at him. “What? Dorrin? Why?”

“She’s a Verrakai. And she’s had nothing to do with them since she ran away to the Company of Falk.”

M’dierra said something in her native tongue that must have been an oath, and said, “If you need help up there, Jandelir, consider hiring Golden Company.” She was serious; she almost never used his first name.

“I don’t think bringing mercenaries over the mountains would calm the situation.”

“Perhaps not, but—why are you here, and not there?”

“Contract. And money. We were running short on supplies, with so many troops quartered up there.”

“Ah. Well, then—” She looked at the list again and put her finger on the fifth name. “Here’s another possible for you. I’d hire him if I had an opening. You don’t want the others. You’ll want to send someone reliable north, am I right?”

“Yes. Two, if possible.”

“My advice: Send this one, Versin, north; keep the young fellow with you. And the Blues let one of their captains go, Talvis Arneson; he lost an eye last year, nearly died of the infection, but survived. Good man, but you know them—won’t spend on their wounded. True, he’s only got one eye, but every other way, he’s worth the chance, especially for training recruits. He’s looking shabby now, and living rough, but my captains can find him.”

“Send him to me tomorrow, if you will, and thank you for your help,” Arcolin said.

“What will you do, without Kieri?”

“What I did before,” Arcolin said. “What he taught me. Take good contracts, do the work honestly, treat my people honorably. Stay out of politics.”

“And—what have you told them up north about your past?”

“That I’m someone’s bastard.”

“But not whose?”

“It’s immaterial now.” Since Siniava’s War, boundaries had changed and rulers as well; what had been lay now in ruins, he was sure.

“Is it? Is it ever immaterial? It certainly wasn’t for Kieri. If he’d known—”

“Siniava would still rule the South, Aesil.” There. He’d used her first name. “You’d have that to deal with, and no Kieri to lead us all against him.”

“I wonder,” she said. “Men like Kieri seem to bring trouble with them. We need trouble, we mercenaries, but we don’t thrive in big wars. No one does.” She tipped her head to one side. “Are you still in love with me, Jandelir?”

“I grew up,” Arcolin said. “As men do.”

“As some men do.” She sighed and ran a finger around the rim of her dessert bowl. Her knuckle, he noticed, was scarred and swollen. “I was young and proud, in those days, intent on having my own company, on proving myself. I saw no profit in you, and that was unfair.” She looked squarely at him. “I do not apologize often, Jandelir Arcolin, but this is an apology. I do not think I could have loved you then, even had I stopped to consider what manner of young man you were, but I should have done you that courtesy at least. And later, when I realized it, I should have said so then.”