“We have candied plums in our supplies,” Arcolin said, as they walked back to the common room. “Be sure to take a sack. I’ll be up at dawn; see me before you and Versin leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Arneson turned to the stairs and went up them with a spring in his stride.

Arcolin watched him go. If he managed only one thing right, he had given that man back hope. He could do this—it was easier every day to talk to people as if he, not Kieri, were this Company’s commander. Kieri would be pleased if he did it well. No … he would be pleased with himself if he did it well.

Arcolin woke before dawn and came downstairs to find Arneson and Versin both before him—a good sign, though he had planned to be waiting for them.

“Breakfast together?” he said.

“The horses are ready, sir,” Arneson said. Versin looked hungry.

“Breakfast,” Arcolin said. “Better here than up the pass.”

“Thank you, sir,” Versin said.

The innkeeper, warned last night of early departures, had porridge ready, bread almost out of the oven, he said, and eggs. He set out bowls of porridge and a pitcher of cream.

“The good thing about the south,” Arcolin said, having ordered everything offered, “is how early milk and eggs come in. We leave home with the cows all dry and the hens not laying, and arrive in Valdaire to the full bounty of spring.” He poured cream into his porridge; the others did the same.

Burek came into the room, carrying a bowl of porridge with a spoon stuck in it like a flagpole. “The men are up,” he said. “Moving their tackle downstairs.” He sat down and reached for the cream pitcher. Arcolin made a note to remind him that Phelani were not all men, and the preferred term was “troops.”

“Summer, more like,” Versin said, as the innkeeper brought a basket of bread still steaming from the oven. Versin broke one open then blew on his fingers. “It’ll be sweaty already, down on the plains.” He scooped a lump of butter onto the torn side of the chunk, and it melted instantly. He bit into it. “Not that I don’t like butter and eggs.”

“And here they are,” the innkeeper said, setting a platter of stirred eggs and fried ham on the table, along with a bottle of a red southern sauce. “And your plates, gentlemen.” He dealt those out, and then hurried off, as Stammel told Arcolin the troops were starting their breakfast line.

Sun gilded the mountains behind Valdaire when they came out into the yard. Arcolin handed over the packet of letters. Arneson and Versin checked their girths, then mounted and rode away. Arcolin turned to Stammel, supervising the cohort’s breakfast.

“All good so far?”

“Yes, Captain. That Captain Burek—” He nodded across the yard to the corner where Burek was checking off boxes the first soldiers to finish breakfast were loading in a wagon. “—he’s a good choice, sir. Young, but energetic and seems to know his business. Should be a big help to you.”