“Arñe,” Devlin said at once. “Because she was Paks’s good friend. It might help.”

“Good. Is she here?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll send her. We can’t afford to leave a whole tensquad: pick five. Range of ages, anyone with good stories to tell.”

In the main grange, five of his people were around Stammel, along with the surgeon, a different Marshal, a different yeoman-marshal, and the Captain of Tir. “Where’s Harak?” Arcolin asked, just as Harak appeared in the entrance, with a third Marshal.

“I’m glad you slept,” Harak said, before Arcolin could say anything. “If you’ll trust us, I swear by Gird and the High Lord we will care for him. Everything. He’s still fighting; the fever’s a little less, your surgeon says. I think we’ve convinced him we’ll keep up the cooling cloths. They do seem to help a little. The Councilors came by, wanting to talk to you, but I sent them away. You’d been in a fight yourself—”

“Nothing like his,” Arcolin said.

“If he recovers,” Harak said, “it will be several tendays—perhaps as long as Midsummer—before he’s fit to return to you—if he can. I will send word, if there’s anything—”

Arcolin went to the platform again. Seli was at Stammel’s head, whispering to him. When he saw Arcolin he moved aside; Arcolin laid his hands on Stammel’s head—would it be for the last time?—and said, “Stammel—old friend—hold that line! Hold it, until the enemy’s gone. I will be back; I swear it. Friends are with you.”

“I have Girdsmen enough for the chores,” Harak said. “Your people are needed elsewhere, but for four or five, if you can spare them, to keep talking to him, reminding him who he is.”

“Yes,” Arcolin said. “Sergeant Devlin—your choices?”

“Corporal Arñe, Little Tam, Bald Seli—he’s here, Doggal, Suli—she’s only a first-year but she was promoted in that fight—”

“I remember,” Arcolin said. “Good choice. So we have someone here to watch with him now, and we’ll send the rest back. Marshal, I thank you for your hospitality, but I cannot let it stretch to feeding and housing five of my soldiers without compensation.” He dug into his belt pouch and pulled out a handful of natas. “Here’s a start; I’ll stop by my banker on the way out and make sure he knows you can draw on the account as you need. Captain—” The Captain of Tir looked up. “My thanks, and Stammel’s, for your prayers.” To the rest of his people, Arcolin said, “All you Phelani but Bald Seli, come with me now. Time to go—”

“Sir …!” It was more protest than anything else. Arcolin shook his head at them. “Could he be in better hands? Can any of us pray like three Marshals of Gird and a Captain of Tir? Stammel will have our prayers as we do our duty; he will have five of the Company with him at all times. Sergeant Devlin has chosen them well. Form up!”

His horse, rested, fed, saddled, stamped outside; Vik held the rein while he mounted. “Devlin—take them back to camp; tell Burek to start out. Once more I must finish a few things in the city before I follow.”