“Novices brought from Argent Hall to train here. Volias brought them.”

“Where is Volias, then?”

“Trouble’s injured.”

“Eiya!” His expression darkened. “How bad is it?”

“It’s the leg. She had to fly while losing blood.”

Nallo faltered. “Will Trouble die?”

“No use courting worries, lass,” said the old man. “The fawkners will have all in hand.” He considered Pil with a frown, then gestured. “I’ll let Commander know you’re here.”

They heard voices engaged in discussion as they took off their boots. They waited on the porch until the old man came back out to beckon them into a spacious audience chamber where six older men and two women sat on pillows, with a ninth seated behind a low desk.

“Your names?” The woman behind the desk had years, and pain, etched in her face.

“I’m Nallo. This is Pil.”

“Can the outlander not speak for himself?”

“I am Pil,” he said, curtly enough that it might be taken for arrogance, but Nallo recognized the way he had of looking at people without quite having the nerve to look at them. She could not reconcile his shyness with his killing arrows.

The woman nodded, not one to take offense at trifles. “I’m the commander. These are my council.” She ran off names, pointing to each reeve, and ended with a middle-aged man called Ofri. “Why did Marshal Joss send you from Argent Hall? Why not keep you there?”

“I didn’t want to train at Argent Hall, verea. As for Pil, here—you’ll need to ask Volias—but I think it was determined he’d train better away from the other Qin soldiers.”

“Is that true?” asked the commander, tone like a whip. “Pil, you’ll answer me.”

“Captain Anji asked it be done, Commander,” he said in his soft voice. His mouth twisted as if he was in pain. “He said it is better I go away to train. I am no longer a proper Qin soldier.”

“Because you are chosen as a reeve?”

He parted his lips to reply, then closed them.

“We’ll sort it out later. At the moment, we can use you to ferry messages so more experienced reeves can patrol. Wait outside. When we’re finished, Ofri will take charge of you.”

Outside, they sat cross-legged on the porch. Pil had the knack of sitting perfectly still, hands at rest on his thighs, while he stared at the fountain and seemed, if anything, to be praying. Nallo could not find a comfortable seat. The raw burn on her hip smarted. Everything else itched, poked, ached. She listened to the reeve council discussing the approach of a vast and terrible army, the flight of refugees from burned villages, a spy recovered from the river, the death of two reeves and an eagle. What had happened to the Green Sun clan? They’d abandoned their warehouses and all left town, very odd, and the council wanted the reeves to search for traces of them. Should we use oil of naya, as they did at Olossi? How do we transport a lot of oil quickly, if we do, when river transport down the lesser Istri might be blocked?