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"Ummph. A free blade, then: that's not any livery I know."

"Yes, sir."

"Humph. Were I you, young woman, I'd keep my blade sheathed here. We're not partial to troublemakers.

Paks flushed. "I've no wish to make trouble, sir, wherever I am."

"Maybe not, but free blades are trouble as often as not. What G.o.ds do you serve?"

Paks put both hands on her thighs and looked him steadily in the eyes. "The High Lord, sir, and the G.o.ds my father served, back where I came from."

His gaze flickered. "Well enough. But if you're planning to stay here long, you'd best find a master who can vouch for you. Before Paks could think of anything to say, he had pushed back his stool and gone, his cloak swirling. Her stomach clenched with anger. Why did they all think she was a brigand, trying to cause trouble? Then she thought of the wandering fighters in Aarenis-perhaps they had had trouble here, though she had not heard of such in the north. She took a deep breath to calm herself and settled to her meal.

Hebbinford, as he came back past her table, had a smile for her. "Did I hear Master Feddith growling at you? Don't take ofiense; he's on the Council here, and we've had some trouble. I hear you visited our Master Oakhallow and Marshal Cedfer this afternoon-no wonder you were late. Marshal Cedfer alone can take up half a day, with his drills and lectures."

"Does everyone here think fighters are bad?" asked Paks.

"Well-no. Not all fighters. But we've had those come through that were: got drunk, broke things, started fights with focal boys, even robbed. You've known some nice that, surely." Paks nodded.

"So, you see, we've got careful. As long as nothing happens, you're welcome, but we don't want the street full of idle blades looking for mischief." "I can see that."

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"Now, Sevri tells me you're quiet-spoken even to servants, and Master Oakhallow had nothing against you, so-" He broke off as someone yelled across the room, smiled again, and left. Paks finished eating. The food was good. It had been too long since she'd eaten well-cooked food. She finished with a slice of bread drenched in honey. The room was much emptier. Most of the men-at-arms were gone, and the rest were leaving, throwing down coppers and silvers as their boots sc.r.a.ped on the stone. Paks decided to check on Star before going to bed.

The bed was so soft that at first she could not sleep. Her room was far enough from the common loft that she heard nothing from it, but boots rang on the stone outside the inn from time to time. Even with the window open to the cold night air, it seemed strange to be sleeping inside again.

Chapter Eight.

She woke at first light, aware of the clatter of small hooves in the road below. Looking out, she saw a herd of goats skittering along the north road. She looked east, at a clear dawn lightening over the hills, and shivered in the cold. Minutes later she was downstairs. The innkeeper was poking in the fireplace, and she could smell fresh bread from the kitchen.

"You're an early one," he said, surprised. "Did you want breakfast now?"

Paks grinned. "Not yet. I want to check on Star."

"Sevri'll feed her-"

"Yes, but she's used to me. And I'm used to being up early." Paks went out the side door of the common room into the stable yard. The green-tailed rooster was racing after a hen, and a group of cats crouched near the cowbyre. Paks watched as a stream of milk shot out the door, neatly fielded by one of the cats. She went into the stable, and found Star looking over the top of the stall door. The pony looked well-rested, and Paks rubbed her behind the ears and under the jaw. When she checked her tack, the packbags were intact.

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"Is it all right?" asked Sevri, who had come into the pa.s.sage.

"Yes, fine. I didn't realize I'd gotten up too early for you."

"It's not. Most of fhe travelers sleep late, that's all. Some of them sleep through breakfast. Star doesn't get much grain, does she?"

"Not when she's not working. Let's see your measure -oh, half of that, and tell me where your hay is-I'll bring it."

"Over there-" Sevri nodded toward a ladder that rose to the loft. "You can just throw it down, if you want."

Paks was already up the ladder. "Why don't I throw down what you need for all of them?"

"You don t have to-but if you wish-" Sevri looked up as Paks tossed down an armload for Star.

"It's no trouble; I'm already up here."

Sevri peered up at her. "I didn't think soldiers knew how to care for animals."

"I grew up on a farm," said Paks shortly. "How much more hay?"

"Just pitch it down, and 111 tell you." Sevri disappeared from the hold, and Paks threw down several armloads. "That should do it. We have just the two big horses in." Paks climbed down, brushing off the hay.

"Who does your milking?" she asked, wondering if Sevri did everything but the inside work.

"My brother Cal," said Sevri. "He's got bigger hands; it takes me too long, and Brindle is a crabby cow." Paks laughed.

"We milked our sheep," she said.

"Sheep?"

"Yes. I've never milked a cow, but I've milked my last sheep. I hope." Paks watched as die girl dumped hay into each feeder. She noticed a blaze-faced black horse that laid its ears back when Sevri neared the stall: obviously one of the "big horses" she'd mentioned. "When can I ask for breakfast, without being rude?"

"There won't be anything cooked, yet," said Sevri doubt- .

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fully. "The bread's out, and you could have eggs and cold roast and bread, if that's enough."

"It's plenty." Paks felt her stomach churn in antic.i.p.ation.

"Just tell Father, then."

"Thanks." Paks returned to the common room to find the innkeeper waiting.

By the time she had finished breakfast, the other guests were stirring. First down was a man in dark tunic and trousers over soft boots. He gave Paks a look up and down that lingered on her sword-hilt, and sat down to his meal with no comment. Then came two heavily built men that Paks cla.s.sified as merchants, followed by a tall man in a stained leather tunic over patched trousers. He had a longsword at his hip, a dagger at his belt, and the hilts of two daggers sprouted from his boot tops. Paks noticed that he chose a seat against a wall, far from the others.

After breakfast, she managed a private word with Hebbinford. He was willing to tell her about the moneychangers in town, and described them for her.

"Well," he began slowly, "as you ask me, I'd say Senneth. He's a Guild member, but the northern guild's not the same as that in Aarenis, if that means anything to you."

"Which guild?" asked Paks.

"The moneylenders, of course. I've heard that down south they were mixed up in a lot of-well-all sorts of trouble, let's say. But Master Senneth is as honest as any of that sort, say what you will. He's given me honest weight, at least. Or there's Master Venion-some prefer him. He's not a Guild member, but some say his commission's less. But for myself, I'd see Senneth."

Paks did not know what he meant by commission, and asked.

"Well, if he takes your raw gold and gives coin, say, or changes southern coin for local, he's got to make something on the trade. Or if he arranges a transfer far away- you said you wanted your dowry to go home. If you don't want to take it yourself, he could arrange it for you. But it would cost you. Now Venion might charge you less, but- how would you know it got there? The Guild, now, it'll 128.

see things are done right. It's whether you want to pay for it, that's all."

Paks nodded. "Where is Master Senneth?"

"Just across from the Hall." Paks looked blank, and he explained. "When you went to the Grange last night, before you crossed the bridge: did you see the large building on your left with a fenced yard?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's the Hall. Master Senneth is right across from it. It's easy to find. He's got a guard at the door." Paks raised her eyebrows. "And you won't be able to take your weapons in, either. The guard stacks them for you."

Master Senneth was a brisk, trim man in a tight-sleeved gown of black wool. He smiled at Paks as she came through the door. "Yes? What may I do for you?"

Paks explained her needs.

"Hmmm. Valuation, yes. It would be better for you, actually, to take anything really valuable to a larger town, or to V&ella. For one thing, you can get several appraisals, and for another, they can offer more who have a market to hand. HI tell you frankly that I probably can't give you the best price you could get, except for southern coin. That's because we trade coin across the mountains each year. Some items I may not be able to take at all; those, of course, I'll note as we go along. Now transfer-if it's money alone, that's the easiest. If it's specific items, that can be quite expensive. Have you brought it all along?"

"Yes," said Paks. "But most of it's outside; your guard said he would watch the packs." She had tied Star to the railing outside.

"Well, let's bring it in and take a look, if you wish." Paks nodded and he came from behind his counter to the door. "Arvid, bring this lady's packs in, please." The guard unloaded Star, staggering a bit at the weight, and carried the packs inside. As he left, Master Senneth called after him. "And see that we're not disturbed until we're through, Arvid." Then to Paks. "I suppose you don't want half die .

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town wandering in as we're counting, and knowing just what you have."

"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Paks.

"Ah, they would," he said darkly. "They saw you come in yesterday, and watched you come here with a loaded pony. If they could look through walls-" He made a warding sign. "But they can't. Now, what's first?"

Paks began unstrapping the packs. "I don't know what- some of this is weapons, but fancier ones than I'd use." She pulled out the pair of jewelled daggers sheathed in silver. Senneth caught his breath.

"My-those are lovely. Where did you say-no. No matter. Only-" he looked at her sharply. "Were these stolen, somewhere in Aarenis?"

"No." Paks shook her head. "I didn't steal them. You can ask Marshal Cedfer or Master Oakhallow, if you like."

"You're not a Girdsman nor a kuakkgannir."

"No, I'm not. But they know where they are from, and how."

"I see." He returned to the daggers. "What lovely tracings. And these gems are valuable in themselves, not just in this design."

Paks pulled out the small battle-axe. She had forgotten the gold inlay tracing runes along the blade.

"That's dwarf-work!" Senneth shook his head. "A rare piece, though I don't know where I'd find a buyer. That's the sort of thing you'd get a better price for in V6rella." Looking at it again, Paks wished she could keep it. But she knew she had no use for a battleaxe, one weapon she'd never handled. She pulled out the ivory-handled dagger with a red stone set in the pommel, and the matching sheath with the dragon carved around it, and two red stones for eyes. Laying these aside, she pulled out one of the sacks of coins.

Master Senneth looked at the treasure, then at Paks, with dawning respect. "Young lady, that's a remarkable amount of wealth you have there. Are you sure you're not an elf princess in disguise, checking to see if humans are still greedy? I a.s.sure you, my honest commission for handling all this will well repay my time."

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Paks sat back on her heels, grinning. "No, Master Senneth, I'm no princess, elf or human. A very lucky young warrior, yes. And my old sergeant said, if ever we got a chance to set some aside, to do it. If there's enough, after sending my dowry home, that's what I'll do."

"Not spend it all on new clothes and wine, eh? Wise head on young shoulders-and a fighter, at that. You're a new one on me. What was your name again?"

"Paksenarrion."

"Lady Paksenarrion, what other surprises have you?" He smiled over the coins, sorting them quickly into heaps of like kind, while Paks pulled out everything else. When all the coins had been counted, he turned to the jewels, rolling them out on a square of black velvet on his counter, and angling a mirror to catch sunlight from the window. His fingers moved among them deftly, turning them this way and that. At last he looked up.

"Unless your father was a very wealthy man, I'd say you have ample to repay any dowry, and my commission for the transfer, and enough over to live well for a long time. Let me start making notes. If you don't accept my value for anything, just retrieve it: as I said, you can get more for many of these things in a city. Now-" He opened a tall book, fetched a pen and a soft piece of chalk to mark the slate that topped one end of his counter. "Let me start with the coins. You realize that those are all quite old. I don't even know the issue on the ones where the imprint is visible. They have value only for the metal content; they 11 have to be melted and re-struck. So I use the weight to determine the value-" He pulled out a set of scales.

As Paks walked back toward the inn, leading Star, she tried to think how much money she actually had. She was hungry; by the sun it was long past time for lunch. How many hours, then, had she been closeted with the moneychanger? She had seen the spiky columns of figures climb up the pages of his account-book, as he added the value of coins, jewels, the small pieces of weaponry. But she couldn't make sense of it in terms of her salary in the Duke's .

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Company. He spoke of gold crowns and silver coronets and halflings instead of the natas and nitis she was used to. She couldn't manage to convert it, in her head. But it seemed she could send home twice what she thought her dowry had been and have plenty left. She need not take the first guard job that came along. She could buy a riding saddle for Star-perhaps even a full-sized horse. She had left most of her money on deposit with Master Senneth, but she had enough with her to order a few new clothes, and eat the best the Jolly Potboy offered for that night's dinner.

On the way back, she remembered Sevri's directions to die smithy, where Master Doggal shod all the horses for miles around. Now she turned from the main road, and led Star between two small stone buildings down an alley that led to the forge. In the paved courtyard before the blacksmith's shop, the tall, rough-looking man from the inn was haggling with the smith over the cost of shoes; his black warhorse, its ears twitching nervously, stamped and shifted, the shoes in question ringing on the stones. Paks recognized it by the blazed lace; it had tall white stockings on all four legs.

"I charges iair," the smith rumbled. "n.o.body says but what I charges fair. That beast of yours has feet so big, and stands so bad-aye, he come near tearing loose, that he did, and kicked me as near as maybe. It's not the shoes being set wrong has him t.i.trupy like that: he's a wrong 'un, and too handy with them white socks." The smith was a head shorter than the other, but his ma.s.sive arms and shoulders made his hammer look small.

The tall man put his hand to the hilt of his sword, but the smith hefted his hammer.

"You just pay me, now," the smith went on. "Pay as you ought, and we'll have no trouble."

"And if I don't?" The black horse shied at that harsh voice; die tall man jerked die bridle viciously. Neither man had noticed Paks, but the horse winded Star and stood still, head high and ears p.r.i.c.ked, snuffing.

"Well, if ye don't 111 have die law on ye-"

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"The law, is it?" The tall man laughed contemptuously. "In this town? What law here could touch me?"

"This," said the smith, and quick as a snake's tongue his hammer tapped the man's shoulder.

With an angry snarl, the big man dropped the reins, drew his sword, and swung at the smith. The black horse walked over to Star as Paks dropped the lead and whipped out her own blade. Only then did the smith see her.

"Another one of ye, eh?" He blocked one swipe of the big sword with his hammer; she noted that he handled it as if it were weightless. "Well, I can take two of ye, no doubt, but still- Aieeeh! By the Maker!" His bellow split the early afternoon stillness. Paks heard a startled outcry in the distance, as she ran forward.

"Not against you, Master Smith," she said as her sword rang against the other. "But you, you coward. I can see that horse has new shoes-and you owe the smith-and you've no business attacking an unarmed man with a sword!" The swordsman had turned, furious, with her first blow, and now concentrated on her.