“Rich brigands,” Burek said. “Or they’ve been robbing rich men.”

“Rich men with exceptional taste in weapons,” Arcolin said. “And this one’s seen considerable use.” The carving had worn down almost to the inlay, just where a hand would put the most pressure. He wrapped the cloth around it again. A shout came from behind the wagons, in the direction of the village. Several shouts. Arcolin loosened the cord of his saddle roll, pushed the wrapped weapon into the center, and retied the cord.

“Try to look stupid,” Arcolin said to Burek. “Whatever you do, don’t smile. Mount up.” He mounted his own horse, and turned it out of the lane, where he could see what was coming.

The rest of the cohort, now in marching formation in front of the wagons, were doing their own best to look stupid. Hurrying up the lane toward them was yesterday’s village headman and two others, waving their arms. Arcolin knew the wagon guards would stop them.

“Stammel, a hand with us, and start the rest down the road.”

“Captain.” Stammel named five, who fell out and lined up beside Arcolin and Burek. The others filled in, Stammel gave the command in a voice that could probably be heard in Cortes Vonja, and the cohort marched off, in perfect step. Behind them, the first wagon’s driver slapped reins together and yelled at the mules; harness creaked and harness rings jingled as that wagon, and then the next, followed.

“With me,” Arcolin said, and nudged his horse forward, toward the approaching villagers.

Faced with two armed men on horseback and five armed soldiers afoot, the villagers straggled to a halt, breathing heavily.

“What’s amiss?” Arcolin asked.

“You—you can’t leave—I demand—you killed four men!” the headman said.

“We did not kill four men,” Arcolin said with perfect honesty. “And you are not authorized to place demands on me—my contract is with Cortes Vonja, in whose outbounds your village lies.”

“I will report you to the city as thieves and murderers,” the headman said, less breathless now.

“Then I will report you as an arrant liar,” Arcolin said. “We stole nothing and we did not kill four men. We camped away from your village, as you requested; we left our camp clean and ready for use again as pasture. We brought our own supplies; we had no need to steal.”

“Two men from the village came to see you last night. I know they did.”

“They did indeed. Did you send them? Did they tell you that I sent them away? I do not deal with such as they—men afraid of the light, who whisper in the dark.”

“They’re dead,” the headman said. “They never came back from your camp, and this morning they’re dead, over there—” He waved in the general direction Arcolin knew was right. “You must have killed them—we have no weapons to take off heads.”

“You said four were killed—who were the others? And why were four of your people wandering around at night?”