Varñe knocked on the door; they heard footsteps approaching. A man with a long apron tied around his waist poked his head out from around the blanket and said, “I’m sorry, we have no rooms—oh! Sir King—come in—” He held the blanket aside.

Before Kieri could adjust his sight, the drum of boots on the floor told him what was happening. Sure enough, the cohort stood in perfect order, tables and stools in the inn’s common room shoved aside.

“Well,” he said. Their faces struck him to the heart. How many years he had led these soldiers up and down from his steading to Aarenis and back. How many years they had followed his orders, fought his campaigns and won them. And now … now he must hand them over to someone else.

But not just yet. Now was the time to do what they expected, to reassure them—after a night alone in a strange city—that they were safe, that he still cared. He walked along the lines, as at any inspection. Boots polished, brass bright. He knew without asking they had all had breakfast, all made their beds—whatever their beds were, here. The innkeeper looked calm; the servants—over there, watching—looked more curious than anything else.

The main thing, besides letting them see him, letting them absorb the differences—his gold and green clothes instead of maroon and white, the King’s Squires—the main thing was to keep them busy, until he must send them away home.

“Are the horses here, Captain?” he asked Dorrin as he moved to the end of the front rank, with a little nod for the corporal.

“Yes, Sir King,” she said. This time she did not stumble over it; he didn’t expect she ever would again. “This inn had enough stable room; I chose it for that reason.”

“Excellent,” Kieri said. “After inspection—Jamis, you missed a spot on your left boot—” Jamis turned red. “You’ll want to check your mounts and exercise them.” He glanced at Astil. “Where could a troop ride, and not cause a problem? The Royal Ride?”

“Sir King, the Royal Ride certainly, but closer to this inn are the river meadows. I’m sure one of the stableboys could show you the way.”

“It’s up to you, Captain,” Kieri said. “The horses will need light exercise today and some work every day the weather and ground conditions allow. We won’t want to turn the river meadows into a quagmire. Innkeeper—” The man came forward, face alight. “You have met Captain Dorrin, I know, but let me be clear about your fees—”

“You don’t need to worry, sir—sire,” the man said, flushing. “It’s an honor, it is, to have you in my inn—”

“I’m not worried,” Kieri said with a smile. “But I know how much my soldiers eat. Be sure that you will be paid, and regularly, for their board, as long as they stay here. And if there should be any problems, do not hesitate to tell Captain Dorrin.”

“I was scared at first, sire,” the man said. “Them being foreign soldiers, and mercenaries at that. But they’re less trouble than some merchants, I’d say. Why that’n—” He pointed at a man in the third rank; Kieri recognized Ulfin, a ten-year veteran. “—he already rehung a door on its hinges that a drunk had kicked out two nights agone and I’d had no time to fix. They can stay as long as you like, sire, so long as I can buy the food to feed them.”