“Here’s one for you, Pil,” said Likard, gesturing toward the sole bed set against the same wall as the door.

“Neh, not that one,” said Nallo. “It’s likely too noisy.”

Footsteps sounded on the floor, and a young woman in a hurry barged through the door, jerking to a halt before she slammed into Likard.

“Heya! Why be stopped like that in the middle of—Here, now. Who are these?”

“Novices from Argent Hall, sent to train here,” said Likard. “Greetings of the day to you, too, Kesta.”

“Fuck off, you turd.” Then she turned a bright smile on the others. “I’m Kesta. Sorry, not much of a greeting, is it? Welcome to Clan Hall. Always glad to see a new face.”

The words seemed sincere enough, and she had the grace not to stare at Pil. And she was cursed attractive, with her sleeveless vest laced tight over a muscular frame.

Nallo averted her eyes, trying for something safer, like the reeve’s chin. “I’m Nallo. This is Pil. He’s an outlander, as you may have noticed, and he doesn’t say much.”

“Eh, so you talk for him?” She grinned, and lifted her chin in a gesture almost flirtatious. “Fair enough. Anyway, I’m late for duty—”

“There’s a surprise,” muttered Likard.

“—so I can’t chat, but I’ll see you at hall this evening, if I get back. The hells! There it is.” She grabbed a baton off the bunk decorated with the embroidered pillow, and ran out.

Pil said, with his careful diction and heavy accent, “where lies the men’s hall?”

“Men’s hall?” Likard looked him up and down in an intrusive way that truly annoyed Nallo. “Can’t wait to get to the temple and be devoured, eh?”

Pil blushed.

“Leave him be! Among the Qin, men and women who aren’t kin or married don’t bunk down together. So he’d be uncomfortable bunking in these quarters.”

Likard scratched an eyebrow, as if this answer confounded him. “Why in the hells would we be wasting our time here with a men’s hall and a women’s hall? He want a private chamber, like a legate? Or his own cote, like the cursed commander?”

“He’s got no idea of our ways and customs, so don’t mock him. You know, Likard, it seems to me there are in general more male reeves than female. Maybe one of the bunk rooms has all men in it, or fewer women, anyway.”

“I never thought to count,” he said with an exaggerated and sarcastic smile. “Aui! Just throw your gear in the workroom. I’ll let Ofri sort it out.”

But Pil would not leave his weapons or his gear, so in a show of solidarity, Nallo lugged her gear as well. Likard led them through the compounds into a private garden court where a fountain spilled water into a series of stone basins carved to look like giant nai leaves, whose root feeds all people.

An old man sat on the porch, studying a half-finished game of kot. Seeing them, he rose. “What’s this, Likard?”