“No soul?” the emperor.

The small man spoke at length.

Dvor shrugged. “He is Klugthai, a nomad from so far to the east that it is as far from his homeland to mine as it is from mine to . . . Lucrece.” He spread his hands and winked at Anne.

She flushed for no reason and was annoyed at herself.

Dvor waved at Klugthai. “He says when a warrior makes his own arrows, he gives them something of his soul. But he says he rides far, and eats the emperor’s salt, and kills his enemies, and he admits that the emperor’s sorcerers make arrows that kill.” Dvor met the emperor’s eyes. “I find him hard to understand, and I have ridden with him ten years.”

“Show me the other arrows,” the emperor commanded.

Klugthai held out a handful of arrows. “These five are for very long shots. He made them himself,” Dvor translated. “These two are signal arrows; they shriek. Every rider must have one. It happens that he is one of my squadron’s best men and has a spare.”

Morgon took the arrow. He moved his hand over it. “Is louder better?” he asked.

Dvor repeated the question.

The little man grinned. “Da,” he said.

Morgon released the working and handed back the shaft. “It will be very loud,” he said.

The small man bowed, clasping both hands and tapping them to his forehead.

“And these?” the emperor asked.

“One for killing horses. One for killing very big things; monsters.”

“Just one?” the emperor asked.

Dvor shrugged. “Most of us shot away all our monster killers facing the Umroth, Your Grace.”

“Got it,” Michael said. He made a note on his wax tablet.

“And that’s why you have inspections,” the emperor said to his squire.

She nodded, fascinated by the row of arrows left.

“And that one?” she asked, greatly daring.

Dvor smiled at her. “It holds a line. For shooting a rope, or starting a trap.”

“This one?” she asked.

The emperor looked at her.

Dvor smiled and the small easterner laughed. “Bird hunting. It is his own, for knocking down game. To eat.”

She smiled.

Gabriel reached over and took the easterner’s hand. “Tell him that I believe that of all the men who serve me, he has come the farthest, and I treasure his service,” Gabriel said.

Dvor spoke. The easterner’s heavily wrinkled face, windblown and bright-eyed, broke into a brilliant smile.

“Rose Leopard,” he said to Anne, and she fumbled in her purse and produced one—the most valuable imperial coin, solid gold, worth five Leopards. The easterner took it and dropped it inside his khaftan and nodded his head.

All of them remounted. The emperor noted that the easterner retied his quivers while he was mounting.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow to Michael, who caught the direction of his attention. “The value of veterans isn’t just that they understand war,” Gabriel said aloud. “It is that they know how to do everything.”