"We've built the grange since then," put in the Marshal.

"Oh, yes. But then, it's not designed as a keep, though it is stone. You couldn't hold it against a.s.sault."

"No, you're right. Not against a trained force. It would hold against bandits, though-we've used it for that."

"Before my time, Marshal-and wasn't it before yours?"

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"Oh, yes. That was Deordtya's doing, not mine, years back. I suppose I shouldn't say 'we' when I mean Gird's grange; it's just habit."

The servant appeared at their side with a tray of tankards; each took one.

"This will be Ceddrin's private brew," commented the Marshal. "I doubt you've tasted as good, Paksenarrion."

Paks blew away the foam and sipped. It was rich and hearty. "It's very good," she said.

"Just what sort of training did Duke Phelan suggest you look for?" asked Sir Felis. "I'd have thought he could offer anything you or he might need."

"He thought, sir, that I might learn mounted warfare, and something of fortifications and defense-*'

"Huh. Sounds as if he were planning the education of a squire, not a man-at-arms. Had he suggested you work toward a knighthood, or something like that?" His voice hinted at the unlikeliness of this.

Paks nodded. "He said, sir, that nothing was certain, but that I might have the ability to become a cohort captain, or some such, years from now."

Sir Felis frowned. "The land's full of captains; I wonder that he'd risk losing a good soldier. Had he ever given you any command?"

"I was temporary corporal for awhile, sir, when one of ours was injured. And at the end of the campaign, when Siniava was trapped in-Cortes Immer, was it?-I led those who watched the bolthole."

"Did Siniava come that way?"

"Yes, sir." Paks offered no details. "He was captured and killed."

"I see. Phelan obviously thought well of you. I must tell you that there's not much chance my count would hire you, if you were hoping for that. He's done no recruiting this past year. You could, of course, go and ask him directly."

"I hadn't thought of it, sir. I know little of this country, or who holds which keep."

"Mmmm. I'll show you a map-can you read maps? Good. I've one of the kingdom, showing the princ.i.p.al [.

fiefs. It may give you some idea where you could hope to hire on. Marshal Cedfer can tell you of opportunities of the grange and Hall. The Fellowship of Gird, you know, maintains several training centers for fighting men at every level. For that matter, they have fighting orders, as do followers of Falk and Camwyn."

"Is that where paladins come from?" asked Paks. "We saw a paladin in Aarenis."

Sir Felis choked on his ale. "Is that what you-!? Sorry. No, not exactly. The Marshal can tell you more than I, if you're interested in that. There's an order of knights, the Knights of Gird, just as there are Knights of the Dragon's Breath, followers of Camwyn Dragonmaster."

Paks was confused. "I thought knights were-were knights, all the same. n.o.blemen born, or those knighted for service."

Sir Felis stared. "Oh, no. Whatever gave you that idea? Oh dear, no. Where did you say you were from? A small border village, wasn't it? Now let me try to explain."

His explanation was hardly enlightening to Paks, since she knew few of the places and none of the rulers he mentioned. He finished his lecture with a gesture to the small gold device on his collar, shaped like a peal of bells.

"Now," he went on, after wiping his mustache, "members of my order may be followers of any honorable G.o.d or hero. I myself am a Girdsman, but my father's brother is Falkian, and so are my cousins. Our loyalty is to the crown of Tsaia-or, more accurately, to the heir of the House of Mahierian. But Knights of Gird swear their loyalty to the Marshal-General of Gird, through their Knight Commander. The-er-rules governing admission to each order depends-er-on the order, and the circ.u.mstances." He looked her up and down, doubtfully, as if she were an unpedigreed horse at a sale.

"I see," said Paks, more to stop him than because she did. She was still confused. She was actually relieved when the mayor tapped her arm.

"Let's get back; we have yet a good bit of business to talk over." This time they asked her to sit down at the beginning of 174.

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the session, and the rest spread themselves around the table on all sides. Only the master mason seemed still faintly hostile.

"We appreciate your cooperation," began the mayor. "Now that we know something of your background, let me explain how things stand in Brewersbridge. We're on a major trade route from the west to the sea. We have a lot of traffic through, and want it- we depend on it. Nonetheless, I hope you won't be insulted when I say that the Council is opposed to having free blades hanging around town. Some of them, like you, are honorable folk, and cause no trouble intentionally. Others, like the fellow who died, pick quarrels everywhere. We've learned it's best to insist that soldiers and warriors either find a local lord or commander, to be responsible for their behavior, or move on." He smiled, as he said this. Paks wondered what was coming next.

"Now you," he said, "are perhaps a special case. While Master Senneth, even for the Council's peace of mind, won't divulge how much treasure you desposited with him, he has a.s.sured us that you will not need to rob anyone for the price of a meal before Midwinter Feast." A chuckle went around the table. Even the mason smiled. "So, since you've given honest account of yourself, we have one less thing to worry about. Nonetheless, our tradition is clear, and since Sir Felis has no employment for you, we would not willingly have you stay too long idling about. That would mean more than a few weeks, in your case: I understand that you've ordered goods from some of our local tradesmen. Certainly you may stay until they're completed, as long as nothing happens. On the other hand, we are prepared to offer you certain employment-the Council is, I mean. If you took it, we would not consider you in the same cla.s.s as an adventurer."

Paks remembered Semminson's warning. "What sort of employment, sir, did you have in mind?"

'^Vork suitable for your abilities and training, I believe. And so says Marshal Cedfer. I think Sir Felis would now concur, would you not?" Sir Felis nodded. "We have been plagued, hereabouts, with brigands preying on caravans in .

the region. You can understand why that is critical for us; we depend on their trade. Sir Felis has swept the area several times, finding nothing. He has direct orders from the count to concentrate his time and men on the building of the keep north of town. We need someone to search out the brigands' hiding place, and lead a force against them. None of us have the training-or, to be frank, the time to take away from our trades. Would you be willing to take this commission?"

Paks could not suppress a grin. It sounded like fun, at least the part about finding the brigands' camp. But as for killing or catching them-"Sir, it is an interesting proposal. But, whatever Marshal Cedfer may think, I am hardly able to defeat a band of brigands on my own."

"Not at all," said the mayor. "Of course not. We would expect you to lead a force, including some of the local militia. And you could confer, perhaps, with the Marshal or Sir Felis, on the best method for defeating them, once you had found their camp. It is that we cannot do."

Put that way, it sounded even more attractive. Whenever Paks thought of brigands, she thought of those who had killed Saben and Canna. She nodded at the mayor. "I have no love for brigands," she said. "Ill be glad to hunt them for you."

"Good. What we propose is this: we will authorize you to call on members of the local militia who have free time, and they-or the town-will supply their weapons. We will not pay you, but we will grant you a share of any recovered goods, and a head-price for each robber killed or captured. If you need extraordinary aid, come to Marshal Cedfer, and he will arrange it as he sees fit. Is that satisfactory?"

Paks had no idea what such contracts were usually like, but it seemed reasonable. If many caravans had been robbed, surely the plunder would make a fair return. "Yes," she said. "That will do. But do you have any idea where they might be?"

The mayor leaned forward. "An idea, yes, but we aren't sure. Caravans have been attacked on all the roads around. But Eris-" he nodded to the farm woman, who nodded to 176.

Paks "-Eris tells us that farms have been robbed, too- and one or two wiped out-west of here. None close in, but those farther out have lost livestock. There are several ruins out that way which might be useful to brigands, though Sir Felis found no one there-"

"That's not to say they might not use them," Sir Felis broke in. "We've had no time for more than a fast sweep-^ they could have been hiding nearby, if they were clever."

"We think," the mayor went on, "that they must have some spy in town. More caravans are robbed on their way out-especially those that have come on a market day, and sold things in our market. I won't conceal the fact that these men-if it's humans-are dangerous. Typically they kill all the caravaners, merchants and guards alike. That s ten to twenty guards, and say five merchants or so, and the drivers. They've killed two farm families we know of-J suppose they surprised them robbing-"

"But, Sir Felis interrupted again, "it may be that some farmer out there is in league with them." Eris Arvidsdotter shook her head angrily, but Paks remembered the setup at "uncle's" in Aarenis. It would make sense. "Northwest of here," Sir Felis continued, "was Baron Anseg's land, but he died without a close heir years ago, and the t.i.tle of that land is still being argued in Ve"rella. Once you're away fiom the river, and well into the woods beyond Brewersbndge, there's no lord for two days' travel, until Baron Velis's outside Bingham."

"The merchants* guilds," put in the mayor, "naturally have an interest in the safety of the roads. We have no Guild League, as in Aarenis, with real authority, but the guilds will support any effort to keep the roads safe where no lord has the responsibility."

"I see," said Paks. She was becoming confused again, and clung to what she did understand. "So you want me to hunt around and find where the brigands are hiding, and get a small force to drive them out? Do you want them driven away, or killed, or captured, or what?"

"Killed or captured, definitely," said Marshal Cedfer. "Drive them out, and they'll return as soon as you're gone."

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"I say loll them," put in the mason. "What good are brigands anyway?"

Paks wondered if he'd ever killed anyone. Himself, "And if you find out who is-I mean, who may be giving information here in Brewersbridge-" added the mayor.

Paks grinned. "You expect a stranger to find out what's going on when you, who know everyone, can't? I might be able to find the brigands, sir, and I know I can fight, but I've no experience in finding out secrets like that.

"Well, but if you should happen to learn-"

"I would telL- Marshal Cedfer, you wished me to report to? Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right. Or me. But Marshal Cedfer is best."

Paks looked around the table. Everyone was watching her. The mage gave her a bright smile, as if to encourage her. The Marshal and Sir Felis looked impatient, as if she were a slightly stupid recruit. Master Oakhallow's level gaze held a challenge. She felt, suddenly, very tired. To fight brigands was well enough, and she'd be glad of an honest, above-ground battle again, but she had the feeling that they all expected something more. Something more.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'll do that-or try to. I suppose the first thing is to look for the places they might be. Do you have a map, perhaps, of the local-"

But at that they all began to talk.

"How good of you-"

"No need for that tonight, now that you've-"

"Perhaps tomorrow you can meet with Marshal Cedfer-"

"-out to the keep, and I'll introduce you to my sergeants- "

The mayor banged his gavel once, and everyone quieted. "One last thing. The town, as I said, will supply the militia, their food and weapons. But do you have what you need for yourself? I see you have armor-" He waited for her answer. Paks thought about her gear. To move about the countryside, as far as he had mentioned-a day's ride away?-she would need a horse of some kind.

"I could use a horse or mule," she said. "My pony's not the right animal for prowling around."

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Sir Felis frowned. "I haven't any spares, right now. We've thrush in the stable, and horses lame."

The mayor shook his head. "It's so late in the season. The horses in town now are work horses-and in use every day. Marshal Cedfer?"

"No. Sorry, My own mount, and Ambros's, that's all I've got. If you wanted to buy one, perhaps Sir Felis could send to the count's stable-"

"There's one spare horse," said Hebbinford. "In my stable-that black horse."

Paks felt a surge of excitement. She had not thought of the black, but that was the sort of horse she had dreamed of in the past. A true warrior's horse. She looked at the mayor, and Hebbinford, and back again. "What about that one, then? No one else is using it."

"I suppose that's all right," said the mayor slowly. "I can see you need a horse, to go looking all over the country. If the rest of you agree-"

"What of the man's heirs?" asked Master Feddith. "He looked a friendless man, but if he had heirs, they'd have some right to the beast."

"What of the fines he'd have owed, for trying to rob the master smith, if he'd lived?" asked Senneth sharply. "I say the Council can claim his horse for damages, and sell it to Paksenarrion if we choose."

"Perhaps, sirs," said Paks, uncertain if she should speak. "I could but have the use of the horse at first-paying Master Hebbinford for his keep, of course. It may be that I have not the skill to master such an animal-" she paused as the smith snorted loudly, and all eyes went ^to him. "Even if I do, I will not need it after this, I think."

"That's well spoken," said the smith abruptly. " Twould do that beast good to be worked, that it would, and the trying of him out would be a reason for her to ride about the countryside. But as for skill-" He looked hard at Paks. "You've either skill of a horse-breaker, girl, or magic in your fingers, and that's a fact." Paks saw both the Kuakgan and the Marshal give her hands a quick glance. She was glad they were clasped to cover the ring.

"Well, then," said the mayor, "how think you? I see no .

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harm in that, and it saves Master Hebbinford risking his own neck to keep the beast exercised, for I doubt you'd let Sevri try it, would you Jos?"

"Never," said Hebbinford, with a ghost of a grin. "Nor is my la.s.s that crazy. I'm for it."

"And I," said the other Council members.

"And I hope you'll decide to buy that horse," said Senneth, as they rose. "If you go, and leave it here, the Council will be left with the care of it all winter until the spring fairs. We'll give you a good price, I swear."

"We can do better than that, Senneth," said the mayor, clapping him on the shoulder. "Should she succeed in routing all the brigands, we might call it a reward. Then she could not reiuse, and we need not worry about the feed."

The others laughed, and gathered around Paks for a few words each before leaving. When she had retrieved her sword from the guard at the door, she found Hebbinford and the Kuakgan waiting to walk with her. The night had turned even colder, and she looked forward to the new cloak the tailor would make.

Chapter Twelve.

After so late a night, Paks would have been glad to sleep later than usual, but antic.i.p.ation of the black horse woke her at dawn. She felt sure of the power of the ring, but once mounted she could not concentrate on her ring finger. She knew she should be thinking of the brigands, and less of the horse, but the black horse seemed far more important this day.

She had hoped to work with him in privacy first, but everyone in the inn seemed to have business in the stableyard, early as it was. Sevri had not groomed the beast, for he had nearly caught her with one of his powerful kicks on the first day, and his owner had done it after that. Paks kept her thumb firmly on the ring as she picked up a brush and eased into the stall by his head. The ears were alert but not flattened, and the great dark eye watched her calmly as the horse worked on its ration of grain.

"There now," crooned Paks, setting the brush to that ma.s.sive shoulder. "There, quiet, stay calm, black one." She began to brush, more gently than would do for a thorough grooming, and with a wary eye on the ears. The horse was taller and more heavily built than the Duke's 180.

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warhorses, as tall as Arcolin's favorite. She worked her way along the ribs, the croup, the rump, Dust and scurf flew; the horse had not been well groomed for some time. She brushed down the haunches, saw them tense, and concentrated on the ring for a moment. "Nothing's wrong, horse. I won't hurt you. Quiet, now, easy-" The bunched muscles relaxed; she saw the fetlock sink deeper in the straw. "You'd like to be out of here, wouldn't you? Go for a ride? Out in the open air-along the roads-good horse-" Soon she had brushed both sides, the belly (another pause for the ring's action there), brushed out the heavy tangled mane. She looked up and saw Sevri's awed face over the stall wall.

"I didn't think you could really do it," said Sevri.

Paks grinned at her, thumb firm on the ring. "I wasn't sure I could myself. Can you bring me a pick?"