“Sir, with all due respect … put your helmet on this time.”

Arcolin unhooked it from the saddle and put it on, fastening the chin strap. “Thank you, Sergeant,” he said, torn between grief and pride. “You’re absolutely right.” At the end of the street, he turned toward the street of moneychangers, and heard his men marching away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

It was noon before Arcolin made it out of Cortes Vonja. In addition to visiting Kostin the banker, where courtesy demanded he accept a glass of cordial and nibble a few of the seed-crusted cakes while ensuring the Marshal would have access to Company funds, he had to visit the Council chambers once more. They insisted on having one of their clerks take down his story of the previous day’s events and were inclined to blame him for not warning them of Korryn’s magical abilities. He set them straight, and they finally agreed that he could not be blamed for not knowing what they and their guards had also not seen.

Now, in the heat of midday, with the sun beating down on his helmet, Arcolin set his slower mount off at a steady amble. He had left the speedier chestnut in the city, for his people to use if they needed to contact him. The cohort was long out of sight; they would be—if Burek had them moving as briskly as he hoped—between the first two villages.

Away from the city, the countryside was just as hot but smelled better. Fat cattle grazed in the water meadows near the river; beyond that, a patchwork of grain fields in brilliant greens, orchards in darker colors now the flowers had fallen. In a few, early cherries were turning color, red as blood. Along the hedgerows, brambleberries flowered in shades of pink and rose; boneset and heal-all raised their white and blue clusters; myriad other flowers—yellow, pink, red, blue—made the hedgerows a ribbon of color. Arcolin noticed the beauty, but his mind was fixed ahead on the cohort and behind on Stammel.

Within a half-glass, dust showed where the cohort might be, just beyond the village he could see. His horse pricked its ears and quickened its pace a little. Arcolin squinted, but could not make out the details under the dust. He heard nothing; the wind blew across the road, not along it.

As he came to the village, no one fled. A woman hanging washing on the bushes outside her cottage barely looked at him; children ran beside him a short way, then went back to whatever they’d been doing. It was too hot for the two dogs he saw to give chase; each barked from its own resting place under a berry bush, but without getting up.

Now he could see a little better … wagons, with horses tied behind. Burek had mounted scouts out on the flanks, as he should; at that distance, he could not see the colors, but the formation was enough. In spite of his worry about Stammel, his heart lifted. This was his place; these were his people; of course he had to be here. He nudged his mount out of the amble into a canter. The guards on the rear wagon raised a shout … and then he was within easy hail.