The priest rose in a swish of fabric and stalked toward them, one arm extended, the other clutching his rising-sun pendant like a wizard might grip an amulet. “Repent, northerners!” he said. “Repent and accept the holy church and ye shall be saved.”

Han stood and nodded toward the stairs. Perhaps if they just retired upstairs, as Dancer had suggested, it would calm the man.

“Leave off, Father Fossnaught,” the gifted soldier said, grinning. “If you drove out the sinners, this place would lose all its patrons.”

Two other soldiers rose and gathered up Father Fossnaught’s books and papers, handing them to the priest. “You go on home and pray for them, all right?” one said.

The priest departed, flinging black looks over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Han said to the gifted soldier. “Does he do this very often?”

“Father Fossnaught is harmless—just a bit overzealous in sharing the good news of the Church of Malthus,” the soldier said. “No harm done, I hope.” He stuck out his hand, and Han took it, wondering if the soldier would notice the sting of wizardry.

In addition to leaking power, the stranger’s hand was heavily calloused from weapons. “Name’s Marin Karn,” he said. “I’ll buy another round to make up for your trouble.” He gestured toward the bar. “Cider, was it?”

Han nodded, seeing no way out. He wanted to decline, and he knew Dancer did too. If they’d gone upstairs to begin with, the incident would never have happened. But it seemed smart not to offend those who had intervened on their behalf. Particularly since they were soldiers. Particularly since this Karn might know they were gifted.

Karn fetched two mugs of cider from the bar.

“So, seems you two are northerners, from your speech,” Karn said, pulling a chair over to their table. “What brings you to Arden?”

“We’re traders,” Han said, following their established story. He took a swig of cider, which tasted more bitter than sweet. Must be the dregs at the bottom of the barrel. “We’ve got the finest fabrics, beads, and trimwork you’ll see in all the Seven Realms. Do you have a special lady friend? We got fancies that would win any lady’s heart.”

Karn shook his head. “No, no lady friend.” He eyed Han speculatively, then leaned close and said, “You wouldn’t have any magical pieces, would you?”

Han shook his head. “That an’t allowed here in the flatlands.”

Karn laughed. “Just checking, my lad. Have to ask. No harm meant.”

“You and your comrades,” Dancer said. “Are you king’s men?” Likely, Dancer wondered if Karn was inquiring after magical pieces in any official capacity.

“Us?” Karn shrugged noncommittally. “We’re sell-swords, between assignments, I guess you’d say. We’re waiting to see how it all comes out.”