“Go on, then,” the Councilor said. “We must examine the merchant and the others; we may send for you later today, and perhaps you would care to dine with the Council this evening?”

Arcolin rode back to camp well pleased with the day’s business. The matter of the mules’ harness had been an afterthought when he was working out contract details in Tsaia; he had not thought of harness, but of saddles and bridles. Still, “all accouterments, tack and the like, attached to the bodies of said animals” certainly did include harness.

His quartermaster examined the supplies with the suspicion of one who had found pebbles in the bottom of a grain sack before. “Mixed grain, sir. This here is wheat, right enough, but this other is spelt, and this is some grain I don’t know. Not bread-quality grain, but should make mush of some kind.”

“Not poisonous, though?”

“No. I think I saw that red grain in the far south, when we was here before, but I never tried it.”

The salt meat and fish went to the cooks. The Duke’s Company had never developed a taste for salt fish, so that, Arcolin decreed, would be used first. “Start it soaking,” he said. “We have a river of water here, and it’s a market day. Fish stew.” There were groans, but only for effect.

To Burek, he said, “We need a good solid arms practice today. Basic drills, then file against file, then pairs of files. We’re about one-third novices, and they tend to sloppy shield-work.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If they call me back to talk to the Council, I’ll need a few for escort, but otherwise, make sure everyone cycles through. Those not drilling can work on camp chores. I’m going to be looking at those swords with our armorer.”

When they’d opened all the bundles, they found a mix of blades, some new-forged and some obviously hard-used. Most were heavy blades with a slight curve, the type Arcolin knew as falchion.

“Good for cutting a way through undergrowth,” the armorer said. “If we’re going into the forest, these might be useful, though I don’t like the lack of a guard.”

“Can you put crosshilts on them?”

“Yes, but not as fast as a city smith with a full-size forge and some boys. If we cut up some of the worst and sell the metal, it’d pay for the new guards, if they’re simple.”

“How long, do you think?”

“Half-glass to a glass for each—another day or two here, for all of them.”

“We can’t stay here that long—we’d need a trustworthy sword-smith and I’m not sure I trust any of them in Cortes Vonja unless we were here to supervise.”

The armorer grinned. “That’s a captain’s problem, that is. What about their militia armorer?”

“They’ll charge enough to get the cost of the swords out of us. I need someone honest and reasonable. Well, let’s look at the rest.”

“This one’s Halveric Company,” the armorer said. “Same design as ours, just about, with that extra little curl to the guard and the H stamp on the pommel. Haven’t found any of ours yet, and I’d better not. If Halverics were down this year, they’d pay us to get this back. They usually clean up a field better than that.”