“No, we’re here to deal with brigands, give you some value for that tax you paid.”

She spat sideways into the street. “Value! The only value them in Cortes Vonja cares about is what lines their pockets.”

“Tell you what,” Arcolin said. “I must take the contraband with me, but I think some of it might spoil by the time it would reach Cortes Vonja. It’s my choice, under my contract. Could you make use of some salt pork and a sack of grain?”

“We could make use of all of it,” she said, staring at the stack of grain sacks and meat.

“I’m sure you could,” Arcolin said, “but so could my men.”

“What you want for it?” she asked.

“Nothing more than you’ve done,” Arcolin said. “Maybe, some other day, some information on brigands in your area.”

“What’ll they do if they finds we tooken it?”

“I don’t know,” Arcolin said. “If you want, we can take it all with us.”

She looked around at her villagers, whose expressions made it clear what they thought.

“We’ll take it and thank you,” she said at last.

Arcolin put two sacks of grain and most of the meat aside. “If I were you,” he said, “none of this would look like what it is, by dark.”

“Trust me for that,” she said. Then, to his surprise, she bent and kissed his hand.

Soon the reloaded wagons were on their way north at the best pace the mules could manage on the soft road, the unhappy merchant perched on the driver’s seat of the second. For the time being, the five guards, disarmed and hands bound, walked behind the wagons, closely followed by the rear guard.

Four wagons, two of them heavily loaded, made a mess of the road, which here was scarce more than a lane. At every turn of the glass, they had to rest the mules and horses. By nightfall they were abreast of the previous night’s campsite. Arcolin shook his head and pushed on. That open field was too easy, when the brigands now knew its secrets. A few hours north, the road would firm again, even after the rain, and he hoped the brigands would be waiting, instead, at the place they usually got their supplies.

The jingling harness and grunts of the mules and horses, and the creak of wagon wheels made more noise than the soldiers afoot; Arcolin blessed the sharp breeze that came up just after sunset and blew the sound away west, where he hoped the main mass of brigands weren’t. Moving at night was risky, but it was as risky for the brigands, and every distance he made north improved their chances of reaching Cortes Vonja without an attack.

Before the middle of the night, he halted them on the road, now firmer, to rest until dawn. Stammel came to him after they halted.

“Captain, that tall caravan guard, Kory—”

“What about him?”

“I think I know him; I think he’s that bad recruit who poisoned Corporal Stephi, the one Captain Sejek had branded and whipped. That scar on his forehead could’ve been a brand. His name was Korryn then. Kory’s close enough.”