“That’s right,” said Volias more soberly. “That we managed a victory here in the South and sent that second army into flight is by the mercy of the gods.”

“ ‘By the mercy of the gods, and the cunning of the outlander,’ ” added Askar. “As it says in the tale. After you’ve had a sip of tea and a swallow of soup, Marshal, there’s duty rosters to sort out. The fawkners would like to talk to you about the injured eagles. The senior reeves need to talk to you. The training master wants a word about how to sort out so many novices at one time. The hall steward needs your imprint to ask for a tithing increase since we’re feeding so many new novices and eagles, with more to come. And besides there are a hundred new young hopefuls still waiting in the western parade grounds, each one eager to try for an eagle.”

“Amazing how they will come,” said Volias in a thoughtful tone, spoken in a way that made even Joss want to know what had provoked those words. Then he laughed scornfully, ruining the effect. “Eh! So this morning when passing out rice balls among them, Darga and Medard got to talking in loud voices about how that cursed eagle—Tumna—slaughtered her very own reeve. They did go into detail of what the remains looked like. A puncture wound in the chest big enough to slither through, which eels were doing. His head half ripped off, dangling by a few tendons, and one arm clean gone. By the time they were through talking, a good twenty of those bright-eyed innocents had slunk out the gates heading for home.”

Joss grunted, feeling the headache reemerge. “Askar, have we a clerk who can read all these contracts and correspondence, and write replies?”

“Neh, Marshal. Marshal Alyon did have a good clerk on retainer from the temple of Sapanasu in Olossi, but when Yordenas came in he sent the man packing and kept that Devouring girl to read his letters for him.”

“And read more of him besides, I am sure,” said the Snake with his habitual sneer.

Joss felt his anger rising. Siras clattered up the steps, kicked off his sandals, and brought in a tray of tea and soup, which he set on the desk in the last cleared space.

“Well now, Volias,” said Askar in his same serious tone, “you might think so, and many did think so, but I’m not so certain. I doubt the Devouring girl danced to Yordenas’s melody.”

The Devouring girl.

All memories of the sweet night he had spent with Verena vanished like so much chaff blown away under a stiff wind. Hoping his hand’s tremor would be interpreted as exhaustion and wine-sickness, he sipped at the tea. The cook had kindly brewed thin medallions of ginger with a sprinkling of dried purple arrowroot flowers, good for hangovers.

“With your permission, Ruti will fly me into Olossi this morning so I can go to the temple of Sapanasu and see about them sending us a clerk for the work needs doing here,” continued Askar. He went into detail about what needed the marshal’s oversight and what usually ran well without his interference.