“My—my wife—my children.”

“You should have thought of them before,” Arcolin said. “You have put your whole village in peril.”

“They gave us half a ham once,” the man said, hanging his head.

“I just gave sacks of grain and six hams to a village that stayed true,” Arcolin said. The village hadn’t been true, exactly, but at least they hadn’t lied to him.

The villagers, creeping to the doors of their huts, hissed in wonder; the man groaned. Arcolin looked around; the whole village was probably complicit, but hearing of reward for good behavior, maybe they could find one honest man or woman.

“Truss him well and put him in the wagon,” he said to Burek, then remounted. They were moving again shortly, and in another two days had reached the outskirts of Cortes Vonja without incident. Arcolin left Burek in command of the camp outside the city, and with a small escort rode in to deliver the news to the Council.

When he came back, he found a troop of Cortes Vonja militia drawn up outside the camp, their commander arguing with Captain Burek.

“What’s this?” Arcolin said.

“We’re here to take charge of the merchants’ wagons and any prisoners,” their captain said. “Your junior officer is refusing to hand them over, on threat of force.”

“Quite right,” Arcolin said. “Captain Burek has done what he ought. It is for the Council to decide who takes charge—”

“It’s our duty,” said the Cortes Vonja captain.

“Not this time,” Arcolin said. “I’ve just been to the Council; their orders are that we escort the wagons into the city, to the Merchants’ Guild Hall, for the legitimate cargo to be recorded and readied for delivery or transshipment.”

“You don’t trust us?” The captain bristled, turning red and gripping the hilt of his sword.

“I have no opinion of your trustworthiness,” Arcolin said. “I but transmit the orders of the Council, as given to me but a half-glass since. Would you argue with your own Council?”

“I—no, but any levy on illegal cargo is ours, by right.”

“That is a matter between you and the Council,” Arcolin said. “As the contents of my contract with the Council is between the Council and me. Here—see the Council’s seal on this?” He nudged his horse up to the other captain’s mount and pulled out the freshly written and signed orders. The man scanned the page, scowling.

“It is most irregular!”

Arcolin shrugged. “I would not know. What I do know is that my orders came from the Council, as did my contract, and I am bound to follow them.” He looked at Burek. “Burek, I want two tensquads for escort into the city, all veterans, and Stammel for sergeant. You will command the camp. I will send the escort back as soon as the wagons have been unloaded at the Merchants’ Guild Hall—none of our men have leave to carouse. I should be back by nightfall, after reporting to the Council again.”

“Yes, sir,” Burek said. Stammel, close behind him, was already choosing his people.