“If they don’t already know the details of the contract, I’d be surprised,” Arcolin said. “They’ll have spies in the city, of course. And they’ll be trying to find out things from our men. That’s a game all sides can play. We have some very good players.”

The five Phelani soldiers who started their evening at the Flowing Jug brought a momentary lull to conversation and an anxious look to the owner’s face. Peering past them, he said, “Is that whole mercenary company coming into the city?”

“Just us,” Devlin said, grinning broadly. “Sergeant said we’d done so well, we could come in and fetch him back a jug. We’ll each have a mug, to start with.”

“Here’s a table,” Jenits said. “We could eat—”

“You don’t think of anything but food,” Tam said.

Devlin leaned on the counter, ignoring their familiar and well-rehearsed opening. He tapped a Cortes Vonja nata. “I’m buying this round,” he said and pushed it across.

“This round?” the owner said. “And shouldn’t you take that jug back to your sergeant?”

Devlin laid a finger along his nose. “He doesn’t know which tavern we went to, does he? Happen we’ll need to visit them all, to find one with ale good enough for our sergeant.”

Three rounds later, the little group left that tavern, had a noisy argument in the street, split up, and the pair swaggered into the Blue Pig demanding drink while the trio joined a circle of gamblers playing Leg and Hand at the Cat and Crow. Each complained bitterly about their former comrades and dropped carefully planned nubbins of gossip about the Company. The trio, accused of cheating by the other gamblers, were invited to leave by the tavern’s security, quarreled again on the doorstep, and staggered off in three different directions. The pair, meanwhile, had struck up a friendship with a young woman and after serenading the tavern with an off-key rendition of “Sweeter than the Honey-Bee” were thrown out. They had their quarrel four doors down and like the others sought further adventure on their own.

Torre’s Necklace shone far to the west when they returned to camp, sober and well supplied with gossip.

“I’d forgotten how much fun this is,” Tam said. “You’d think they’d learn.”

“We do it best,” Devlin said. As the most cat-eyed of them, he led the way. “Trade secrets passed down from generation to another.”

“If any of it was true,” Jenits said.

“The bits we all heard will either be true or what someone’s passing as truth,” Devlin said. “But wait until we get to camp.”

In the light of the lamps in Arcolin’s tent, Tam’s idea of fun showed up as bruised knuckles and a cut on his forearm.

“What happened?” Arcolin asked.

“It became necessary to show fight, Captain. For the honor of the cohort—”

“Specifically,” Arcolin said.

“Oh—it was after we separated. I was supposed to be staggering drunk, and someone believed it. If he hadn’t breathed so loud, he might’ve hit me with that billet, but that and his breath-stink revealed him—so I ducked and he hit the wall where my head had been. The cut’s from his friend.”