“They were bold to stay on the road,” Arcolin said, as softly.

“Oh, they’re bold enough. But I told my people to do as they said, and it would be as well if my people thought I had done the same.”

“If you need to berate me all the way out of the village—” Arcolin said.

“I will,” Maenthar said. “But this time it will be an act.” His smile was rueful but genuine. “Two things: They talk of the old kings coming back, and their leader—of this group at least—has a tattoo on his heart-arm he touches when he speaks of someone called Ibbirun.”

“Thank you,” Arcolin said. Ibbirun … the Sandlord of Old Aare. By repute, the Sandlord was evil, either akin to, or another name for, Gitres the Undoer. He raised his voice, then, for any villagers who’d crept to the backs of the houses to hear. “Well, Maenthar, I’m sorry you feel that way. We were friends once, and I hope will be friends again. We never did you injury, and we intend no injury now.”

“Just go away, that’s the best thing you can do for all of us,” Maenthar said just as loudly; his voice once more edged like a scythe. “Stay out of the fields; give the grain a chance. And keep your men from stealing, if you can.”

“My men don’t steal,” Arcolin said coldly. “As you should remember.” He took the reins back from Burek and mounted, nudged his mount into motion, and the cohort followed.

Once they were well out of the village, Burek said, “That was instructive.”

“Did you hear all of it?”

“Should I have?”

“It depends. I need to know—if you did, I needn’t repeat any of it.”

“Yes, sir, then I did.”

“Cortes Vonja politics,” Arcolin said. “Duke Phelan always thought someone high up there was in league with Siniava, but couldn’t prove it. What if that same person has transferred allegiance to Alured?”

“Would Alured believe it?”

“He might. Or he might let whoever it was believe he believed him.”

Burek rode in silence a few moments. “Field tactics are easier than politics.”

“With one cohort compared to a city, yes. But men are men, either way.”

“Do you think that … Maenthar … will tell the brigands about us?”

“I hope so,” Arcolin said. “It will be better for him and will not hurt us. Even if one of his people spied and saw him being friendly, our past friendship excuses it and we were never alone together.”

Burek blinked. “Did you think of that at the time?”

Arcolin laughed. “We both did, I’m sure. In past years, Maenthar would’ve invited me into his house for a cup of sib, at least. He had good reason not to, as I had good reason not to take him aside.”

“You … think of more things than I do,” Burek said. “I thought I knew what a cohort captain’s job was.”

“In twenty or thirty years you’ll know more,” Arcolin said. “Sooner if you’re the fast learner I expect you are.”