“Sir Baramon,” Janel said, “help me with this trunk. Also, where does Captain Mithros keep his training camp?” She plucked at the red cloak resting on her shoulders. “It seems I have something to return.”

“Oh, smart thinking, foal. Some mercenary work would be just about what we need right now. Hired knights are always coming and going. Nobody pays them no mind.” Dorna put her hands to her hips and grinned. “’Sides, the captain’s an old friend.”

“The Markreev of Stavira’s your ‘old friend’ too,” Sir Baramon said. “Please note how Dorna’s old friends never seem to want to have anything to do with her.”

Dorna snorted. “The Markreev’s still sore about his wife, that’s all.”

Sir Baramon rolled his eyes as he picked up the case. “Really? That’s all, is it?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the count. “We do need to find you something else to wear. The Red Spears will take offense at you wearing that, even if you mean to return it.”

Janel hesitated before nodding her agreement. She’d been wearing the red cloak since Mereina, although Brother Qown wasn’t sure why. She ducked her head and pulled it off, folding the fabric over her arm. Dorna handed her a plain brown sallí—Brother Qown didn’t ask where she’d found it—and Janel wore that instead.

“This way.” Sir Baramon jerked his head back toward Khored’s Temple. Their destination veered from the temple itself as they headed to a roped-off area in the temple’s shadow. Red-hued azhocks adorned with bright pennants and crisp streamers populated the rear grounds. A second roped-off area, tourney combat yard–sized, provided an area where knights practiced. Other training grounds surrounded it, their purpose obtuse but with one common quality: they all catered to contests fought on horseback. Women trained as well as men, and almost everyone wore some variation of red cloak, or at least a red arm band. Only one figure didn’t wear red: a knight on horseback practicing to be the Black Knight. He wore the appropriate hue.

If they wanted to enter the grounds, they would either need to duck under the rope or deal with the guards at the solitary entrance.

“I’m here to speak with Captain—” Before she finished the sentence, the guard snatched the cloak from her grasp.

“Thanks for returning the cloak. Only Spears inside the practice yard. No exceptions. Have a nice day.” He went back to talking to the other guards, clearly expecting the count and her retinue to move on.

The count stared at him, open mouthed.

Brother Qown realized Janel didn’t resemble a noble or even a stallion. Her stained and patched clothing, combined with an unbrushed laevos and no jewelry, left little doubt as to her gender. Who would look at her and think her anything other than a mare?