“Perfect,” they said in unison.

Ser Alison turned to Kronmir. “Ride back to Daniel and tell him the battlefield is at San Bastide. You know it?”

“No,” Kronmir said. “But I will, and I see where it must be.”

Giselle glanced at him.

“Where we crossed the river, and took our doses,” she said. “You’ll know it.”

Kronmir nodded.

Giselle vouchsafed a smile. “Where’s your friend?”

Kronmir actually had to think. “Ah,” he said with a bow. “I would hope he is on his way to us by now. He was paying a visit to . . . Mitla.”

The duchess laughed. “Of course he was. Well, that would simplify matters, would it not? You know that the Duke of Mitla has a brother . . .”

“Who hates him . . .” Kronmir said.

Giselle laughed. “Perfect,” she said. “He was really a fine neighbour until last year. Now he rapes choir boys and burns people for entertainment.”

“So I understand,” Kronmir said.

Sauce watched the two of them with ill-concealed impatience. “Are you two done?” she said. “You taking my orders forward, or not?”

“I am,” Kronmir said.

“You have it all?” Ser Alison asked. She really didn’t like him, he could tell. Many employers did not.

“San Batiste is the battlefield. Move forward, no contact.” He nodded.

“I didn’t say no contact,” she snapped. “But you are right; I want surprise. He’s got to cross the river?”

“Yes,” Giselle said.

“It really is perfect. Let’s get him. Just before dark tomorrow.” She snapped her fingers to avert ill-luck. “Dammmmn this is fun.”

Kronmir bowed and went for his horse. He defied himself and glanced at the duchess, but Giselle was talking to the captain of the marines.

He changed horses, left his second riding horse in the hands of Ser Milus’s squire, and rode off with his best horse on a lead.

His horse was fresh, and he felt well enough. It was curiously relaxing to have no responsibility beyond that of courier; he had time to think. He thought about how much Ser Alison disliked him, and he had to assume it was her extreme loyalty to the emperor, whom he had, it was true, attempted to kill on several occasions.

He hadn’t thought about Brown in a week; now he was seized with worry. Brown was as close to a friend as he counted; Kronmir had sent him to Mitla without a qualm.

Examining Giselle, he had to assume that, now that she no longer needed him, his friendship was inconvenient. The thought depressed him, but there it was. Or perhaps her new friendship with Ser Alison precluded him. He knew the duchess’s tastes; he didn’t imagine, as some men did, that he’d change them.

He avoided examining himself. It was as if the knight’s belt had unleashed a torrent of emotions, each more irrational than the last.