Corbie laughed. The past was always more interesting than the present. For those who lived through the first great struggle it must have seemed deadly slow, too. Only in the final battle were the legends and legacies created. A few days out of decades.

He worked less now, now that he had a sound place to live and a little saved. He spent more time wandering, especially by night.

Case came calling one morning, before Corbie was fully wakened. He allowed the youth inside. "Tea?"

"All right."

"You're nervous. What is it?"

"Colonel Sweet wants you."

"Chess again? Or work?"

"Neither. He's worried about your wandering around at night. I told him I go with you and all you do is look at the stars and stuff. Guess he's getting paranoid."

Corbie smiled a smile he did not feel. "Just doing his job. Guess my life looks odd. Getting past it. Lost in my own mind. Do I act senile sometimes? Here. Sugar?"

"Please." Sugar was a treat. The Guard could not provide it.

"Any rush? I haven't eaten."

"He didn't put it that way."

"Good." More time to prepare. Fool. He should have guessed his walks would attract attention. The Guard was paranoid by design.

Corbie prepared oats and bacon, which he shared with Case. For all they were well paid, the Guard ate poorly. Because of ongoing foul weather the Oar road was all but impassable. The army quartermasters strove valiantly but often could not get through.

"Well, let's see the man," Corbie said. And: "That's the last bacon. The Colonel better think about farming here, just in case."

"They talked about it." Corbie had befriended Case partly because he served at headquarters. Colonel Sweet would play chess and talk old times, but he never revealed any plans.

"And?"

"Not enough land. Not enough fodder."

"Pigs. They get fat on acorns."

"Need herdsmen. Else the tribemen would get them."

"I guess so."

The Colonel ushered Corbie into his private quarters. Corbie joked, "Don't you ever work? Sir?"

"The operation runs itself. Been rolling four centuries, that's the way it goes. I have a problem. Corbie."

Corbie grimaced. "Sir?"

"Appearances, Corbie. This is a world that lives by perceptions. You aren't presenting a proper appearance."

"Sir?"

"We had a visitor last month. From Charm."

"I didn't know that."

"Neither did anyone else. Except me. What you might call a prolonged surprise inspection. They happen occasionally." Sweet settled behind his worktable, pushed aside the chess set over which they had contested so often. He drew a long sheet of southern paper from a cubby at his right knee. Corbie glimpsed printing in a crabbed hand.

"Taken? Sir?"

Corbie never sirred anyone except as an afterthought. The habit disturbed Sweet. "Yes. With the Lady's carte blanche. He did not abuse it. But he did make recommendations. And he did mention people whose behavior he found unacceptable. Your name was first on the list. What the hell are you doing, wandering around all night?"