Arcolin could not speak for a moment; all the old longing swept over him once more, then departed. He had loved her; she had loved—or thought she loved—Kieri Phelan; Kieri had loved only Tammarion, and Tammarion had died. If any bard had known all this, it would have made a ballad, but no one did, no one but the people involved. He cleared his throat. “I did love you, Aesil, and admired you as well, and it was years before I gave up the hope that perhaps, someday … but you need not apologize, except to ease your own heart.”

“And so it is,” she said, sitting back and folding her hands on the table. “You are the man I thought you were, once I saw past my own ambition and my own losses. Friends?”

“Always,” Arcolin said. “Unless, of course, we’re hired by enemies, but even then—”

“We have the Code, and we are content, are we not?”

“We are content,” Arcolin said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Next day, when Arcolin was coming back from another visit to the banker, he saw ahead of him a gaunt man in dirty, thread bare clothes with a rag tied around his head approaching the inn door. The door ward blocked him.

“Show me your money, or go your way.” The door ward sounded both bored and hostile.

“I need to see Captain Arcolin.”

“Not likely, beggar—he’s no time for the likes of you—” The door ward flourished his billet. The man’s shoulders drooped; he turned away from the door, and Arcolin could see that the rag on his head covered his left eye.

“Wait—” Arcolin came closer and signaled the door ward to move back. “Aren’t you Arneson, captain in the Blues? M’dierra told me you might come to see me.”

“Yes,” the man said. “I’m Arneson. No longer captain; they said after this—” He raised a hand to his face. “I was no use to them.” The wound that had taken his eye had pulled his face awry as well; Arcolin recognized the damage done most often by a curved blade.

“I’m hiring captains to go north,” Arcolin said. “Northern Tsaia, north of the Honnorgat—”

“Where Phelan came from—is he still Duke, or is the rumor true, that he’s gone to be king somewhere?”

“Lyonya; he’s king of Lyonya now. I’m taking over his domain and Company, with his blessing. I have a one-cohort contract with Cortes Vonja. But come in—it’s time for lunch. Eat with me; we’ll talk and see if you want the job.”

“I’ll take any job,” Arneson said, squaring his shoulders. “If you think I can be of use. And if you don’t—better we talk before we eat. I’m not taking a meal from you, if—”

“Well, then, if you insist—how many years were you with the Blues?”

“Nine fighting seasons. I was at Cha in Siniava’s War.”

“You were on our right flank, if I remember—”

“No, on your left.”