High watchtowers stretched up as little more than scaffolding. She did not recognize the pair of very young men lounging on gate duty, but their bored faces and listless chatter irritated her. They did not bother to challenge her, and they ought to have; she was an unlikely sight, with her naked feet and calves and a cloak clutched tightly around her body, yet she walked through the gate unremarked. She would have words with Marshal Alard about their lackadaisical attitude.

It was difficult to remain annoyed in the familiar environs she loved: the wide-open land-side parade ground with its chalk-laced dusty earth; the low storehouses side by side in marching order; the barracks and eating hall sited where the high ground dipped, making a bit of a windbreak; the high lofts set back to either side, and beyond them the seaward parade ground that overlooked the cliff and the choppy bay.

Most reeves must be out on patrol, since she did not recognize the few faces she saw. Two very young fawkner’s assistants scurried toward the lofts with harness draped awkwardly over their backs. A youth shuffled past holding a cook’s ladle while sneezing and wiping his nose. A young woman seated on a bench was sniveling while Marit’s dear friend and fellow reeve Kedi spoke in the tone of a man who has said the same cursed words a hundred times:

“It’s done, Barda. When an eagle chooses you, you’ve got no choice in the matter.”

“But I don’t want this. I never wanted it.” She wasn’t a whiner. She was genuinely overwhelmed, her eyes rimmed red but hollow-dark beneath; her hands were trembling. “I was supposed to get married tomorrow. All the temples agreed it was an auspicious day for a wedding, Transcendent Ox, in the Month of the Deer, in the Year of the Blue Ox. Especially for a long and steady and calm alliance. That’s all I ever wanted, and I like Rigard, only now his clan has called off the wedding. They’ve broken the contract, because now I’m a reeve. I was just walking to market and the bird dropped down out of the sky and I screamed I was so scared. Don’t you see? My life is ruined!”

Kedi sighed in that weary way he had. His hair had been trimmed back tightly against the skull, almost shaven bare like a clerk of Sapanasu, and when he shifted to slap away a fly Marit realized he was leaning on a crutch. He wasn’t putting any weight on his left leg.

“Heya! Kedi!” she called.

But he was too intent on the young woman. “I know it’s not what you wanted. But let me tell you that every reeve in this hall envies you for the eagle who chose you.”

“Trouble? It’s a stupid name. She scares me.”

“She’s the most beautiful and best-tempered raptor in the Hundred.”

Trouble! Marit wanted to ask what had happened to Trouble’s reeve Sisha, a particularly good friend who besides could hold more ale than anyone, but Kedi had launched into an energetic description of Trouble that would make the hardest heart melt, so she walked down the alleyway between storehouse and fawkner’s barracks that led to the marshal’s garden.