It was late when Galin finally came to bed. Luthene hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but after days of hard marching, it came anyway. She heard him come in, however, and got up to embrace him. By his silence, she thought he might prefer to be left alone, so she kissed his cheek and said, “Wake me if you need me.” He did not, save when he was getting out of bed a few hours before dawn. “I love you,” she murmured. “We’ll be there.”

For the next half hour or so, sleep came in short bursts, and Luthene threw back the blankets and got up. She considered breakfast, but the thought made her feel nauseous, and it was all she could do to choke back her tea. Rain was falling outside as she pulled her hauberk over a heavy tunic, and strapped on her sword belt. Colum pounded on the door then, and she smiled when she saw the long Highland fighting knife in his hand. She knew he would need one today, and was glad that Galin had been the one to give it to him. “I have a few more things for you,” she said, walking over to a chest at the foot of the bed. She pulled out a tunic in the Company’s colours. “No armour for you, I’m afraid, but you’ll look like one of the men in that, I think. Then we have a sheath for your knife, and a belt so you can wear it.” The lad put them on, grinning, and Luthene stood back to inspect him. Still something missing, she thought. Her eyes scanned the room, and she spotted Galin’s gear, things he didn’t need that day. She picked up a buckler— a good size for the boy, she thought, and easier for him to carry than one of the larger round shield most of the men used— and handed it to him. “Now that’s Galin’s, so take good care of it, because he’ll need it back.”

Colum took the buckler as though it was sacred. “A shield protects the man alongside you as well as yourself,” he said, as though reciting something from a holy book.

“Indeed it does. And if you’re going to be assembled with the rest of the men, then you will need one,” Luthene said. “Now come on, no time for breakfast, we need to find our places.”

Colum nodded, but before he turned to the door, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Luthene. For a moment she was surprised, then she returned the boy’s embrace. Then she picked up her shield, and they went outside.

Cooper ordered everyone into ranks, and Luthene kept Colum with her. When they assembled, Colum stood right in front of her, in the first rank, with an unobstructed view of the courtyard where Galin and Murtagh would be. She kept her face mute, but not hard, and when Galin stamped his foot and the men beat their shields together, she did as well, and made sure Colum was included in the acclaim.

It was no easy thing, to watch a man die, but Luthene did not look away or flinch. Colum did, a little, and she placed her hand on his shoulder, a reminder that he had to be strong. When Galin looked at them, this was how he saw them. He dismissed the company, and as men drifted away, they drew their weapons to salute Murtagh, Colum his knife, and Luthene her sword.

The honour of preparing Murtagh’s body and his pyre fell to his section. He was stripped of his armour and his sword, having decided that they ought to be sold to the benefit of the widows and orphans. A better use for them, Luthene thought, reminded of the way Southern knights might sometimes be buried in their armour, clutching their own swords, an extravagant waste the Company could not afford. Besides, if what the men believed was true, Murtagh was already a warrior in his Maker’s hall, and had no need of such dressings.

The men were assembled in the courtyard again to see the pyre lit. The man who had stood to Murtagh’s left, a younger man named Colum, had this honour. There was no formal dismissal this time, the men being permitted to stay as long as they wished. Luthene stood by Galin, in silence, until he was ready to leave the yard. Colum was less patient and grew hungry, leaving with the first group of men. The pyre had burned about an hour before Galin turned to go, Luthene beside him, leaving only a small group of men, those closest to Murtagh, still outside.

Maria had arranged a feast, and had outdone herself as she so often did. Luthene found her and Cooper and she and Galin sat down across from them. There were no drink rations that day; Murtagh’s sacrifice demanded no less. Still, Luthene restrained herself, and ate little.

“Ginger?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow, when she noticed Luthene’s disinterest in the meal.

“No, thank you,” Luthene said with a smile. “Just not that hungry.”

Maria sprinkled some grated ginger over Luthene’s plate anyway. “Just in case,” she said with a wink. ”By the way, did Galin tell you? Owen and I are getting married. Not right away, obviously. A month. I’ll be getting big by then, but we wanted to wait a little, you understand.”

“Congratulations!” Luthene said, taking her friend’s hand. “I look forward to it. And then I’ll have to ask Galin when ours will be!”

All through the afternoon and into the evening, men ate, drank, and shared stories about Murtagh. The day had been trying for Luthene, but she still had a good laugh when men who had served with Murtagh during the war spoke about how, on the way to the Valley, Murtagh had gotten drunk and started speaking to one of the horses as though it was his wife, and once he’d sobered up, refused to say if he actually thought he was talking to his woman. Still, Luthene was relieved when men started to leave the tavern. She reached for Galin’s hand, then whispered, “We should go.”

Ever since it happened, Luthene had been trying to comfort Galin in some way, but it was hard to know what he needed from her. Was there something he wanted her to say? To do? Now, she was done with wondering or worrying. When the door to their room was shut and bolted, Luthene did not hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him, embracing him fully, and pulled his mouth to hers before he had a chance to say anything, if he had a mind to. Then, she lead him to the bed.

Galin woke to the smell of fresh bread and fried pork the morning after the execution. Maria had seen to their meal and Galin was happy that she had because after the night he and Luthene had, there was little chance he would have had even half the energy needed to boil an egg, let alone make a proper breakfast. He rolled over in bed and kissed Luthene awake, taking his time and enjoying her warmth and closeness, but eventually he swung his legs out from under the covers and walked to the table where he had shared his last drink with Murtagh. It would be a reminder, he thought, like other little things, reminders of the burden he carried as a leader of men. But that sort of worry could wait, he decided, and poured himself a mug of watered wine. When Luthene joined him, he smiled at her bed-bedraggled appearance and pushed the platter toward her. “You barely ate yesterday and I don’t want you wasting away, especially after last night.” He winked and took one of the small manchet loaves, tearing it in half and dabbing it in the pot of butter.

“Now love,” he said between bites, “I know Maria’s got a wee’un on the way but if she keeps putting bloody ginger in my food in case you’ve got one as well, I’ll bloody hang her, and you know I am not above it. A man’s particular about his breakfast, and me moreso. And if I wake up to ginger on things there ain’t a proper reason for there to be ginger on again, Cooper’ll need a new lady, mark my words.” He winked again, underlining the jest in his tone, and speared a piece of the pork and accompanying onions onto his plate. “But never let it be said I’m ungrateful for a cooked meal.” He scraped as much of the ginger as he could from the chop before he tucked into it and began to plan the day. “And be sure and eat hearty. Extra duty starts today and there’s a stable that needs mucking out so your section will have that honor.”

As he was halfway through his meal, Galin heard the hammering of Colum’s feet running down the hall. “Maker help up, here comes the wee terror you adopted for us.” The boy skidded to a halt outside the door, hauled it open, and rushed in with a letter for Galin. He took one look at the wax seal and groaned. “Looks like her majesty’s got more words for us. Grand. Now Col, you run out and get you down to the training ground. Singlestick at the post until I come for you, and I’ll know if you’re shirking. Remember what I said in the armory, yeah?” The boy nodded and shot away, running awkwardly as he kept one hand on his new fighting knife. “He’ll be the death of us, you know that, don’t you?”

Galin used his own knife and pried off the seal and opened the letter. He scanned it slowly, his letters still in need of great refinement, even with his poetry, but they served well enough to send him into a streak of cursing. He turned the parchment over to Luthene and continued to condemn every member of the royal entourage to an eternity of torture. “Taxes?! The bastards are having trouble with the taxes and we haven’t even been here more than a few weeks. Not as though we’ve had time to get on our feet, not like we were sent off on a thankless assignment that nearly bloody blew the company to pieces, and not like we have shite that needs attending. No, the buggers just want their damned silver and will make our lives a misery until they have it.” He found himself pacing around the room, his dagger still drawn, and with a grunt, returned it angrily to its sheath. “So we will have to take another trip, you and I, into the City. And we’ll have to get our ledgers and the like, all the rents, all of it, to make a case before some council bugger or other. Now, while I gather that, I think it’s time you get headed to those stables. Tell Cooper that he’s in charge while we’re gone and to be as inventive as he likes with the punishment details. You will have the worst of all, being stuck with me in a royal court.” He kissed her quickly then pushed Luthene to the door. “Run quickly, love. Can’t keep the Queen waiting now can we?” Grinning to himself, he landing a resounding slap on her behind, then swung the door shut before she could retaliate. In life, Galin thought, it was more about the simple pleasures and that was one he simply could not resist.

Given the choice, Luthene might have preferred to stay in bed a while longer. Alas, her section was among those doing hard labour for the next month at least, punishment for their role in the mutiny. As Luthene had suggested it— not that the men knew that— it would not do for her to spend the day with Galin while the others had to shovel shit. So, she got out of bed, her legs a bit unsteady, put on her tunic and trousers, and joined Galin at the table. While the food was left over from the meal the night before, Luthene found it significantly more appetizing now.

The smell of ginger on the food was strong, though Luthene didn’t mind the taste nearly as much as Galin did. “You’ll do no such thing!” she said with a laugh. “She is being a bit presumptuous, though. No tea, today.” Not that Luthene minded; she hated the stuff, and wanted a child. Galin, of course, offered to get her some hot water. “I’ll stop by the kitchen when I’m done mucking that stable,” she said with a sigh. If she had to have it, she preferred to have it cool enough to drink quickly.

“He’s been better since you took him on,” Luthene pointed out, just before the door opened and Colum stepped in with a letter for Galin. While he groaned at the seal, she smiled at the lad.

Colum seemed more interested in the pork still left on Luthene’s plate, and she offered it to him. He took an eager bite, then spite the piece out into his hand. “I hate ginger,” he said, and Luthene burst out laughing.

Luthene was still smiling when Galin dismissed him. “He’ll only be the death of us if you don’t teach him to use that knife properly. Otherwise, he’s a good boy, and you’re a good father to him.”

The letter was worse than Luthene thought. She read it quickly as Galin cursed, then a second time, more slowly, in case there was some detail one or both of them had missed. “Dammit,” she cursed. “I’ve been trying to stall them, or at least negotiate the amount. Dammit!” She stood up, walked over to the desk, and pulled the ledgers Galin asked for from a shelf. “Have a look, maybe you’ll see something I missed. I found a few places where money goes missing, but there doesn’t seem to be anything stating where it went.” She opened the door. “Bring Colum with us,” she said when he kissed her, then turned to leave. She jumped when she felt Galin’s hand on her, but the door shut before she could say anything. A pair of women standing within earshot giggled as Luthene walked past, and her cheeks coloured, but she smiled, too.

For the next few hours, Luthene was with her section, mucking the stables. The other men grumbled about the task, but at least held back on cursing Galin himself for making them do it. At least, until Harry Deepdale, who likely had already consumed his ration of ale for the day, fell into the stall he’d been mucking. He had several vulgar words for Galin at that point, while others tried— and usually failed— to hold back their laughter. Cooper heard them, probably meaning to put a stop to it, but opted to dismiss them instead. Had Deepdale not been covered in shit, Cooper might have cuffed the man.

Before leaving, Luthene approached Cooper, her posture stiff and formal. “Bad news, sir,” she said. “Galin has received a Royal summons. He has to go to the city, and you’ll be in charge while he’s gone.”

Cooper groaned. “Lucky bastard, leaving me to enforce his punishment.”

“He’ll be dealing with magistrates,” Luthene pointed out. “The lord who used to live here didn’t pay his taxes, and the Crown says we’re responsible for that debt. I imagine he’ll say you’ve got the easier task.”

“We’ll see,” Cooper said with a grunt. He dismissed Luthene, and she left first for the kitchen for a cup of hot water, then back to her room for the tea, and for Galin.

Packing did not take Galin particularly long, as he was usually prepared to march at a moment’s notice. However, with an appearance before part of the Royal Court, he opted to at least fold his better tunic so they there was a chance that he would look like more than a rumpled northern savage in the palace halls. It was a slim chance, he decided, as he much preferred the comfortable clothing he wore when he fought and trained, but all the same it was worth making the effort. More likely than not he would look about as comfortable as a cornered boar, but he knew that if he did not make the effort, Luthene would not let him hear the end of it. He was not about to risk another talking to about what was expected of him as a commander, be it his appearance, his sigil, his reading, or any of the other small projects Luthene had taken on to improve him like a man would rebuild a dilapidated croft. Since he would travel by way of his hated nemesis, the horse, Galin decided that he could take the ceremonial armor from the company’s stocks to at least give him a chance of looking the part with the grandees of the court. Before he left his quarters for the stables and armory, he pushed the ledgers that Luthene had taken over keeping, both of the company’s finances and of the rents and tithes on the land around the fortress to plead their case. There would be time to look them over in the evening, he decided, and shoved them into his bag, then left for the armory.

In the yard in front of the stone building, Colum was wailing away at a large post driven into the ground, practicing the rudimentary strokes of the sword. Galin stood back a while to watch, judging his form and the direction of his attacks. He was rash, the soldier observed, and did not think to defend from a counterattack. That was a dangerous habit to form so early and Galin grinned as he decided that now was the perfect time to reinforce the lesson that while a training pole would not strike back, an enemy surely would. Whistling, Galin sauntered over to the edge of the training ground and dropped his satchel before vaulting over the split rail fence enclosing the ground. “Col, you’ve got to learn that you ain’t always going to be chopping at trees, boy-o. You can’t defend worth shite.” The boy sputtered indignantly and flushed bright red.

“Oh you think I can’t?! I know I can, I am just not because it’s a tree, not a man.”

“That’s the trouble, lad. It ain’t a tree. Every time you train, it’s creating habits for when you face a man. The post’s got to be treated as much like a man as I am. Otherwise when you fight a man proper, you’ll only know how to react if he ain’t got arms nor legs and just sits there and lets you chop him to bits.” Galin picked up one of the wasters meant to approximate a two handed war sword and cut it through the air. “This wouldn’t be fair,” he said, on seeing the worry in Colum’s eyes, and exchanged the great sword for a shorter ash sword about the length of his dwarven falchion. “So, show me, little man, how you fight, if you’re still so eager!”

Colum leapt forward before the last of Galin’s words was out of his mouth and the soldier had to take a step back to parry the wicked jab. “Interesting, interesting,” Galin said evenly, holding his blade low and inviting Colum to attack again. The boy, recovered from the strong parry, swung again for Galin’s unprotected left side. When he attacked, Colum did not think beyond the strike and Galin easily stepped back beyond the hissing arc of the wooden sword and prodded the blunt tip of his own sword into Colum’s chest. “You’re dead, boy. Try again.” Colum gritted his teeth and swung again, looking to sweep his blade into Galin’s ankles in a strike Galin himself taught him. But mid-strike, he switched directions and swung the blade higher, toward Galin’s abdomen. It was met with Galin’s waster, one of his hands on the hilt and the other on the flat of the blade like a quarterstaff. The impact jarred Colum’s arm and deflected his blade into the dirt. Before he could recover, Galin pivoted and rapped the pommel of the waster against Colum’s head, not strongly enough to harm him but a sharp enough blow to make a point. “You’re senseless on the ground and I’ve just slit your throat. You aren’t thinking, boy. A man’s best weapon isn’t here,” he said patiently, tapping the blade of the waster against Colum’s arm, “but here,” and tapped the blade on the crown of his head. “Any idiot can slash about like he’s reaping wheat. A soldier survives because he’s smarter than that, knows how to turn a blade away and strike on the counter rather than trying to beat a man down like a blacksmith. Now once more, and if I kill you again, you’re mucking the stables with Luthene’s section all month instead of training. Now, go!”

Galin stepped back to let Colum develop the attack on his own and he smiled as he saw the look of concentration on the boy’s face. He was quick, quick as Galin could remember being, and now attacked more cautiously. Colum held his blade high ahead of him, weaving a little when the tip of Galin’s sword moved. He was paying attention to defense, Galin thought, but could he still attack? The boy answered a second later and slashed quickly at Galin’s left knee. Almost automatically, Galin closed the gap between them and swung down to crack Colum across the head, but the boy had learned. Using both hands as Galin had, he deflected the blow down and made Galin step to the side to avoid a counterstroke. The boy’s face was suffused with delight as Galin seemed to retreat, but the warrior recovered and pivoted on his back foot, his blade stopping at the edge of the boy’s neck. “Lesson number two: until your enemy is dead, you never drop your guard.” Galin’s voice was harsh and he stared hard into Colum’s eyes, then laughed and let the blade fall. “You’re learning quick, Col. Got to watch the defense, but the end there was good. Quick thinking, adapted what you saw work. Proud of you lad, so proud you get to skip the stables and come with me and Luthene to the city.” Before the boy could reply, Galin leaned down and picked him up under his arm while the boy giggled with delight. “Now run along, wash your face and hands, and see that my horse and Luthene’s are saddled, yeah? And take this bag with you.” He put the boy down, ruffled his hair, and sent him speeding on his way. “Nice lad,” he thought out loud. “A bit impetuous, but a good lad overall. May even make a good soldier someday.”

Looking back at the armory, he scratched his chin, considering bringing the ceremonial armor again, then he spat and thought better of it. There was no sense in trying to look like anything but what he was, he decided, and the lords could kiss his Highland arse if they objected. Instead, he headed toward the kitchens where the wives and a few of the widows that remained here making the mid-day meal. Galin saw Maria among them and headed for her directly. “Now Maria, love, you know I love you like my own blood, but so help me, if I find another scrap of ginger in anything I eat today, I’ll have Cooper flogged.” He grinned at her and leaned down to hug her about the waist and kiss both her cheeks. “Luthene is still using the tea, see? And I can’t fucking stand the taste of ginger. So be a dear and get us something in the fried, garlic spiced variety, preferably some pork since you ruined a poor man’s breakfast.” Maria swatted him away with an impish grin and bustled around the kitchen preparing a plate.

“Be careful with that, Galin, or else people will talk, and you about to be a married man and me a married woman! The scandal it would be!” She winked at him and slid an extra chop onto the wooden trencher. “Though I must say, there are far worse choices in camp than you, oh gallant captain.” Watching Galin blush at her suggestive tone, she handed him the trencher and sent him on his way with her laughter ringing in his ears. As if by magic, the moment the first breeze stirred and the smell of the food drifted across the courtyard, Colum was by his side, eyeing the platter like a starving hound.

“Yes, there’s enough for you, you greedy piglet,” Galin replied to the unasked question as they entered his chambers a few moments after Luthene. “And no love, I didn’t mean you. I meant our stray,” he said and patted Colum’s unruly head of hair. “Eat up, the both of you. Cold rations til we make the city, so this is the last proper meal. And what’s better, no damned ginger!” Galin sat heavily in his seat and speared a slice of the pork and pushed it onto Colum’s plate, along with a healthy helping of carrots and stewed black beans. “Now remember, Luthene love, half rations on the spirits, so I’ll be sure and drink the excess. May help me not kill some noble, stuffed-up bastard,” he chuckled as he poured sweet Ejgoran wine into their cups and, while Luthene was choking down her tea, splashed some into Colum’s with a knowing wink, before tucking into the meal himself.

Luthene was just stirring the herbs into her tea when she heard the door open, and Galin say something about there being enough food for everyone. She smiled at them both, then set her cup down to seep. “I need to wash, first,” she said. “I smell like the worst part of a horse. Make sure there’s still food left when I get back.” She wasn’t sure which of them would be more likely to eat her share. Maybe Colum would drink her tea before Galin could stop him, she thought, getting more water— cold this time, unfortunately— and taking as much time as she dared scrubbing her hands and arms, getting the muck out from under her fingernails, then washing her face. When she returned, her tea was cool enough to drink quickly, and there was still some food on the plate for her. Garlic, she noted, and no ginger. Galin and Colum might have left her more to eat if Maria had prepared it in her usual way.

“Got your good tunic packed?” Luthene asked Colum, noting that he was wearing his old one, which didn’t seem long enough for him anymore, and was a bit threadbare in places. “And my dress as well?” Galin assured her that he had taken care of everything, and Colum had saddled the horses.

“You’ll ride with me, Colum” Luthene said when they had finished their meal and were walking to the stables. She noticed that the lad was a bit unsteady on his feet, and shot a look at Galin for it. First, she helped Colum into the saddle, then had Galin help her so she could help keep the boy steady. Again, she glared at Galin, but said nothing; that would come later, once Colum was asleep. As a general rule, she did not berate Galin here others might hear it. Her resolve nearly broke after about an hour of riding, however. She had hoped to use the ride to drill Colum on his numbers and letters, but when he struggled to spell his own name, she knew it was a lost cause. Then the boy swayed a bit more, declared he felt sick, and threw up.

“Galin, help him down,” she said with a sigh. “I think there’s a stream just over there,” Luthene added, climbing down from the horse herself, the leg of her pants covered in vomit that smelled like Egjoran wine. Colum’s tunic was also covered in it. “Take him there to wash, and I’ll join you in a minute.” As discretely as possible, Luthene wiggled into her dress, then joined Galin and Colum at the stream, leading the horses. “We’ll have to make camp early,” she said, hiking up the hem of her skirt and wading into the cold stream to wash her pants. Colum threw up again, and she sighed. “He’s too sick to ride anymore. Might as well get a fire going, and I’ll wash his tunic.”

It took about an hour for Luthene to get things clean, and she kept being interrupted to ensure Colum kept drinking, but moved downstream of her when he felt sick again. When she was finished and Colum had nothing left in his stomach to bring up, they joined Galin at the fire, and she hung up their wet clothes to dry. After getting a blanket, and some hard bread for the boy to nibble on if he felt up to it, she sat down next to Galin with the ledgers. “You and I will need to talk about giving Colum so much wine later,” she whispered, then opened one of the books.

“What we have are rows here, with dates on them. Then each column lists various incomes and expenditures. Here we have the rents, expected yields from crops, then the actual yields, usually with a reason. Now, here’s the first problem, all the yields are below what’s expected. The reasons are plausible enough: pests, drought, bandits, and so on, but it happens year after year, and when we surveyed the townsfolk when we arrived, they didn’t mention any of this. They also paid more in rent than what’s recorded here. Not much more, it only works out to a few crescents per person, but when everyone pays more, it adds up. The expenditures are odd, too. Here, for example, Arnholt said he was supporting a garrison of two hundred men, and needed wages and rations enough to support that many. We know that’s not right, there was only 150 men when we arrived, in Meti, and this last entry is two days before the attack. It’s unlikely that so many men would desert in two days, and for no reason. We’ve got staffing wages listed here, and various other expenditures— capturing fugitives, for example, and road repair— and with all the other figured off in some way, I’ve no reason to think any of these are accurate. There’s no way that road leading in was repaired in Satius, either, unless Timdedeath did a number on it.” Luthene pulled out another book, this time her own ledger. “Here are the incomes based on what the townsfolk told us, and I’ve adjusted the garrison expenditures. Those are the only figures I’m certain of, but… Well, you’re better with numbers than I am, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you just how much wealth Arnholt failed to mention to the Crown. Of course, his ledger reports that he paid his taxes, and paid them based on the figures he reported. Now, with the Crown claiming that we must pay those taxes… I’m not sure we should tell them about the errors. It will be tight, but I think we can afford it based on the amounts Arnholt wrote down, and if we can negotiate a bit, we won’t even have to increase rent. But the actual figures…” Luthene shook her head. ”That could be a disaster.”

Well, he is half southern, Galin thought as Colum began to show the effects of the wine Galin snuck him during their meal. He was swaying in the saddle and as the ride progressed his color changed to a greyish green and eventually he could not control himself any longer and vomited on himself and Luthene. Galin roared with laughter, much to Luthene’s annoyance, but he could not help himself. It was just too funny and he did not bother trying to restrain himself. He pulled up awkwardly on his horse’s reins and dismounted alongside the vomit-covered duo and lifted Colum bodily from the saddle. Carrying him well away from his own clothing, Galin brought him to the stream’s edge and deposited him there and then unceremoniously booted him into the water. The boy sputtered and flailed then threw up again, letting the fast rushing stream carry the remains of the wine away. “Now lad, you’re learning a valuable lesson. Never drink so much before you ride or you end up covered in your own sick, yeah? Now get your head under the water lad. I know it’s cold but it’ll sober you up faster. Trust me, I’ve had my arse kicked into my fair share of streams, and in the North too, mind.”

Shivering, Colum dragged himself out of the stream, the vomit washed away and his clothes clinging to him. Galin stripped him out of the drenched clothing and wrapped him in his heavy cloak while he gathered enough branches for a roaring fire. When he was content that the flames were well caught, he sat next to Colum, arm around his shoulders as the boy shivered. Luthene was busy in the stream trying to salvage his clothing and Galin just sat there, lending his warmth to a sick, freezing boy as he slowly recovered his senses. “Oh, there lad, don’t try to move so quick. Shhh, calm lad,” he said when Colum stirred, suddenly feeling the worst of his drunkenness passing and immediately tried to lurch to his feet. Instead, Galin passed him a water skin and had him drink, escorting him back to the stream’s edge when the urge to throw up overtook him again. “Poor lad, you’ve got to learn sometime,” he said and ruffled the boy’s drying hair. “Steady now lad, the worst is over…” When he was too tired to contemplate the walk back to the fire, Galin carried him in his arms, setting him back on the blanket and crumbling the hard bread for him to eat. Luthene sat next to him while he idly stroked the boy’s hair. “Oh come off it, he’s old enough to have a wee nip. I’d already had my first hangover and first kiss when I were a year younger than the wee’un here, so don’t be so harsh, eh?”

Colum looked up at him a moment, half asleep, and held out his arms for a hug. “Oh come here you scut,” Galin said and gathered the boy up in a bear hug, holding him and subtly rocking until sleep won out and the boy slumped, exhausted and dozing, against his shoulder. “Now to bed proper,” he whispered, wrapping the cloak and blanket around Colum as the boy snored softly by the fire. Leading Luthene to the other side, he sat next to her and reopened the leather-bound book. “Sorry love, you were saying about them ledgers?”

He listened to Luthene’s reading of the ledger and frowned. It was not surprising, he thought, as many officers in companies during the War would claim men in the company that did not exist and continue to draw pay for dead men. This was just on a more impressive, far-reaching scale. Galin began to run the numbers in his head, looking at the shortfall every year, something in the neighborhood of five or six hundred crescents. It was not a huge number, not to a lord like Arnholt, who could have paid the losses from other estates or simply ignored them, but for the company, the debt would be huge, considering, as far as the ledger seemed to show, the losses went back the better part of a decade. “Well, the bugger was skimming, seems like. But I figure, between the men on half pay and spirit rations and the proper harvest numbers, we ought to be able to start handling this debt, and I’ll throw most of what coin I’ve got in as a loan to the company. Pay myself back over time when we have a proper haul, I think. And half the company’s reserves as well. Should bring us from about five thousand to a little more than three and a half, maybe less if my numbers are wrong. And if we can get ‘em to agree, we pay the extra that Arholt skimmed every month, and we’re back in the good columns again before too long. Seems the only way to play it, don’t you think?”

It was hard to be mad at Galin when she saw him with Colum. Luthene still meant to talk to him about giving the boy so much wine, but some of the bite was gone.

“Most of your coin left with Mathuin,” she reminded him. “I don’t have a whole lot saved anymore, either, but you’re welcome to that.” Luthene started twisting her ring, thinking. She could sell it; she didn’t want to, of course, and it had far more value to her than they’d get for it, but she couldn’t completely discount the idea, either. “Maybe we can get a loan from Blas. Or Ranulf. We certainly give him enough business.”

From the other side of the fire, Luthene could hear Colum’s soft snoring, and sighed. “I don’t know what he needs from me. I’m not Madeline, I know I can’t take her place, and I’m not trying to do that. But I would like to be more than just the woman who makes him study letters and sums, I just don’t know how. You make it seem easy, even when you’re giving the poor boy more wine than he can handle before riding.” She swatted Galin’s arm. “If you’re giving him wine, water it down so he can still walk straight, and watch how much he has. Even Deepdale can’t drink enough to vomit in the half hour… Galin, I’m serious—“ He cut her off, and she pulled away and listened. Colum was still snoring. “Don’t wake him,” she said, and kissed him.

They didn’t reach the city until sunset two days later. They got a room at the Mermaid, and discussed a strategy for meeting with the Crown while eating a late dinner. It was decided that Luthene would speak first and try to negotiate, and Galin would only intervene if her method failed. Colum, meanwhile, would stay at the Mermaid, and she would tell Gaston to at least water down any drinks he gives the boy, if he serves him any at all.

Breakfast was quick the next morning, with Luthene and Galin wanting to get the unfortunate business with the Crown over as soon as possible. The Crown, however, had other ideas. They were kept waiting over an hour before the magistrate’s clerk waved them into his office. There was a man-at-arms standing by the door; clearly, he wasn’t taking chances.

Luthene cleared her throat until the magistrate looked up. “We’re with the Company. Are you Maurice Verdene?”

“I am! Please, sit.” He gestured to a pair of chairs in front of his own desk, and Luthene took one. “That’s a lovely ring you have. I don’t recall seeing it the last time you were here. Are congratulations in order?”

Something about his tone bothered Luthene. His words were pleasant enough, but his tone reminded her of Ranulf. “Yes, thank you. Um. Shall we discuss the issue at hand?”

“Yes, yes.” Verdene shuffled through some papers at his desk. “The debt. I won’t sugarcoat this, it’s substantial. As the Company is now living on that land, you are essentially acting as the lord there, and thus you will be responsible for paying it. According to our records, the amount owed is five thousand crescents. That’s not including interest, of course.”

“As we explained in our letters,” Luthene replied, “it is not our debt. It’s a shame that Arnholt was so negligent in paying his taxes to the Crown, but surly the Crown does not expect us to pay another man’s debts?”

“Well, ordinarily we might have taken goods and coin from the manor after Arnholt’s death,” Verdene said, with a slight sneer, “but alas, the place had been looted, and anything of value had been taken. But there’s a misunderstanding here. You see, the debt belongs to the manor, not the man. You live there now, indeed you even asked to live there, so the debt falls to you. In the future, you should really look into these things better.”

Luthene put her hand on Galin’s leg to steady him. “Well, let’s be realistic about this. Surly you don’t expect the Company to pay such a large sum! I looked through Arnholt’s ledger, and the manor only brought in six thousand crescents last year.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on the full amount,” Verdene replied, with the same sneering tone. He wasn’t sorry at all. “In fact, if the amount is not paid, in full, within the month, your contract with the Crown will be terminated and we’ll send our own soldiers to the manor to collect what we can.” Her crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s really nothing more to say on the matter.”

Luthene sighed, then looked to Galin, and gave him a slight nod.

The man drove a hard bargain, Galin thought, as they left the chamber. Even when the captain said the company could only scrape together two thousand crescents on short notice, Maurice barely blinked, continuing to demand payment in full. Eventually, though, he relented a bit, demanding four thousand in the next two weeks, and then two months to come up with the remaining balance. It was not generous, not by any means, but it meant that Galin did not have to give up every last coin in the company’s coffers in a single go. And with the rents from the manor actually being collected and distributed properly, it would not be too arduous a burden in the following months. If he had done the sums right, Galin thought, there was even a chance that they debt could be paid early and then the company would begin to replenish its reserves of hard currency. Luthene had done well in the negotiation and Galin squeezed her hand as they left the magistrate’s offices in one of the Crown’s bureaucratic offices. “Tight fisted bugger,” Galin commented with a smile. “You’d think it was his own coin he was asking for and not the Crown’s. And he sure was quick to give us a chance to get out of the place. Doesn’t seem like him, do you think? Maybe he’s just got another bugger lined up to play the same scheme as Arnholt did and get his cut. Ach, no matter, we’ve got this thing settled well enough. Blas, then.”

Colum had been left with the serving girls at the Mermaid so Galin took the time to walk through the market square. It was a weekend’s market, so vendors arrived from farther afield, looking to turn a profit when the city’s laborers were paid off for the week. “We could do to get Col some new clothes. Poor fella looks like a scarecrow in those things, you’re right. If I remember correctly, there’s a nice fellow down the square a ways, a proper tailor, and not for this fancy southron shite, no offense of course, love.” He leaned over and kissed her on the tip of the nose and winked, strangely enjoying the domesticity of the moment they were sharing. Sadly, such moments were all too fleeting and Galin’s was no exception. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a throaty chuckle. “Your purse or your life,” the man whispered menacingly and Galin felt the prick of a dagger in the small of his back. He let go of Luthene’s hand, looking ahead of him where two more men had come through the crowd to herd them back to the dagger man. Galin held his arms out from his sides, calm and relaxed.

“I don’t want any trouble mate. Ain’t worth killing over, you know, so here, I’m going for my purse. Real slow. Tell your tame mountains over there that I’m going to,” he said, noting that the men ahead of him were coal-black, men of Mamlak, and he had no idea how conversant they were in the patios of Adeluna. Something about the man behind him seemed at odds with the pair of thugs ahead of him but Galin did not bother trying to make sense of the aberration. Instead, he slowly lowered his left hand and untied the thong that kept his purse tied to his war belt. “Ah shite,” he muttered as the purse seemed to fall from his grasp and hit the cobbled square. “It’s right there, mate. Now here, I’ll just get it back to you. And Luthene, love, remember the Valley, be steady love.” He risked a glance over to Luthene and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He hoped she understood his plan. In the Valley, when they faced each other during the Godslayer debacle, Galin’s company was known for its unconventional deployments, often employing subterfuge and misdirection to make up for their relatively small numbers when faced with the blocks of troops the New Order were able to muster against them. Galin pushed the coin purse back slowly with his right foot until he felt it nudge the foot of the thief behind him. “There it is, see. No trouble,” he said calmly, then jerked his leg up in a savage kick into the man’s groin. His heel struck hard and the man fell away with a whimper and shouted for his compatriots to finish the job.

The two men, each a head taller than Galin, came forward with real relish, drawing broad-bladed slashing knives native to their
Homeland and Galin drew his own fighting knife. He grinned and dropped low, holding his knife in his right hand and wrapping his cloak around his left as a makeshift shield. When the man in front of him swung his blade, Galin rushed forward and the man stumbled backward to avoid Galin’s knife. He could not get far enough away, as the crowded market had taken notice of the fight commencing and begun to ring the combatants in while the city watch was summoned. Galin’s knife gouged a deep cut in his leg and before the man could counter, Galin had brought his left arm up, catching his assailant’s forearm and stopping it mid-stroke. Galin growled and pushed up even as he felt a fist hammer into his ribs, and as the Mamlak’s arm lifted a fraction higher, Galin thrust his dagger deep into his armpit and severing the blood vessels in a single cut. The man gasped as he felt his strength ebbing and tried to attack again, but Galin drew out his knife with a vicious twist and kicked him to the ground. As he collapsed, Galin grabbed his tight, curly hair and held his head up then drew his dagger across the man’s throat, finishing him before he hit the bloody ground.

When Galin looked up, he saw that Luthene had beaten her man. “Go to Colum, go! I’ll get the other bastard.” Without waiting to see if she complied, Galin scooped up his purse and, knife blooded to the hilt, went screaming through the crowd, demanding they make way. “Where did he go,” he challenged a scared shopkeeper and was rewarded with a guilty glance down an alley off the market. Galin raced after the man and soon closed the distance with a cloaked figure that ran in a pained, awkward gait. As the man tried to turn a corner and escape the pounding feet behind him, Galin reached out and grabbed the trailing edge of his cloak and pulled hard. The man came up short and fell on his back, struggling to unfasten the cloak. Galin put a foot on the man’s scrabbling hand and ground down with his heel, shattering the small bones of the man’s fingers. He whimpered in pain and then fear as he saw the recognition in Galin’s eyes. He had been one of the company’s men, paid off before the disaster at the wheat field, and a loyal soldier in Cedric’s section. Galin grinned malevolently, and knelt over the chest of his one-time comrade.

“Who put you up to this?”

The man refused to answer and spat in Galin’s face, knowing that his fate had been sealed the moment Galin recognized him. “Fuck off, you and your bitch of a woman. He’ll get you before long, ruin you for what you’ve done, and there’s not a fucking thing you can do.” Before Galin could reply, the prostrate man grabbed Galin’s right arm and pulled the dagger toward his own chest, jamming the bloodied blade into his own heart with a sigh. Galin cursed and shook him, demanding to know who was trying to kill him but it was in vain. Within seconds the light left the man’s eyes and Galin snarled in frustration. He wiped his knife on the man’s cloak, cut his purse from his belt, then left the body in the alley for the watch. Using the same streets he had used to sneak to see Isabella months before, Galin made his way to the Mermaid and pushed through the kitchen and into the taproom, where he saw Luthene and Colum at a table. He sat heavily alongside them and squeezed their hands one at a time. “We are safe,” he said simply.

As food and drink were brought over, he took the man’s purse and pushed it to Luthene. “See what’s in there,” he said and poured wine for them both, and, with a wink, a small measure for Colum. “The bugger said someone wants us dead. Maybe something in there’ll tell us who the bastard trying to kill us is, eh?”

“I imagine he gets some coin out of it if we pay. You’re right, though, it was curious the way he suggested a way out. Even seemed to be pushing it, insisting we pay more than we could afford, at least as far as he knew.” Luthene looked to Galin and smiled. It had been a good idea of his, saying they had less coin than they really had, and he sold the lie more convincingly than she could. “He was baiting you, too. Even with the guard there, that could have gone badly for him.

Walking through the market, Galin suggested getting a new tunic for Colum, and she feigned offence when he mentioned ‘fancy southron shite’. “When have I ever gone for fancy?” Luthene said when he winked at her, and she smiled.

Her smile faded when Galin let go of her hand and she realized a man had a knife to his back. Galin was calm; Luthene, less so. She didn’t have a weapon; she didn’t think she would need one. She was wrong.

When Galin dropped his purse and told her to remember the Valley, she knew exactly what he was getting at. She chanced a slight nod back at him, tensing while he reached for his purse, then kicked the thief in the groin. The thief fell, dropping his knife in the process, and Luthene grabbed it. Right away, she noticed that it was long, in the style of the Highlanders. There wasn’t time to think much about it. She wrapped her cloak around her right arm, as she had seen Galin do, as the two Mamlak men drew their own blades. One came at Luthene, but she was able to step away, for once her smaller size working to her advantage. She used her blade to slash at her attacker’s sword-hand, and he dropped his weapon. Rushing in, she stabbed him in the gut, twisted the knife, and cut to the side. When she withdrew it, some of his bowels fell out as well.

Looking to Galin, she saw him finish off his own man, and they both had the same thought, though he said it first: Colum. Still holding the third thief’s knife, she ran ahead, back to the Mermaid, sitting at one of the tables. Luthene dropped the blade and ran to the boy, then hugged him close. Colum was confused. “You’ve got blood on you,” he said, wiggling free.

“I’m fine, I’m just glad you’re alright,” Luthene said, still holding on to the boy’s hands. She was blinking hard when Galin returned and said they were safe, and she hugged him as well. Before sitting down, she put her cloak around her to cover up the blood. She picked up the purse and looked inside. There was a piece of paper with Galin’s name written on it, which she handed to him. ”I don’t suppose you know the handwriting?” she asked, though she wasn’t optimistic. “I’ll have to count the coins later,” she added, not wanting to empty them on to the table in the taproom. Gold she mouthed to Galin.

Luthene set the purse down and picked up the cup of wine Galin had poured for her. Her hands were shaking as she brought it to her lips, and she spilled some of it. “Dammit,” she said, setting the cup down. She was suddenly very aware of the wet blood on her clothing, another man’s blood, and she needed to get it off her. “I need to change,” Luthene said, standing, and going up the stairs to their room. Her hands continued to shake as she shut the door, removed her cloak, and then peeled off her dress. The blood would never come out, she realized. There was so much of it. Her legs started to shake, and she slumped to the floor, weeping.

Luthene had been shaken by the events in the City and Galin could not blame her. When he found her in their chamber at the Mermaid after the attack, she had stripped off her ruined dress and was weeping, something that Galin could not remember seeing in all his years. He sat with her a while, letting her cry with his arm around her and once it had passed, he called for a basin of hot water and helped clean every trace of blood from her and then, exhausted from the fear and stress of the day, she crawled into bed. After gathering Colum and a small straw-filled mat for him to sleep on at the foot of the bed, Galin joined her, finally able to process the danger of the day and was relieved to have his woman in his bed, alive and well. Before he drifted to sleep, he looked back at Colum, curled up near the small brazier of coals and smiled. A strange family, he thought as he settled back to bed and touched the hilt of his fighting knife on the bedside table, but one he would protect it with his life.

The next day, before Luthene and Colum rose, Galin left the Mermaid for Blas’ shop. The Adelunan was just pulling open the heavy, iron-bound shutters when Galin arrived. “What’s got you here so early, Northman? Another ring for the woman? End up in bed with the wrong slattern and need something to placate your own?” Galin rolled his eyes and pushed in the door, heading back to the small kitchen in the back of the shop and poured himself a cup of wine. The goldsmith looked on in ill-disguised annoyance as Galin sank the cup and poured another. “Or are you just here to drink my good damned wine, you heathen?” Galin glared at him a moment then sighed through his nose and put the purse of coins on the man’s counter.

“Have a look. They the real thing, do you think?”

Blas poured the contents of the purse onto his cloth-covered counting table and whistled. “You got lucky at the dice, eh Northman?”

“Some bugger tried to kill me and Luthene. He had this. Now I do. You can figure out the rest, can’t you, mate?”

Blas nodded severely and examined the coins. They were all newly minted gold coins, stamped with the likeness of the Queen of Adeulna and worth twenty crescents a piece. Five hundred crescents was more than a man would expect to see in a decade of laboring, the Adelunan thought as he held the coin up under a glass, ensuring that it was in fact gold. Satisfied, he nodded to Galin and scooped the coins back into the purse and slid it back to Galin. “Never thought you were worth much. Apparently someone does. These were minted in the last few weeks, no sooner. Is that all,” he asked irritably, hoping to get his business open for the day with no more interruptions from the unkempt Highlander, but Galin took the purse and pressed it into the man’s hand.

“We will be needing a lot of the company’s coin. One of the magistrates is pinning us to the wall for the debt of the manor so we need to make sure there ain’t a host of queen’s men out there in three weeks’ time. I’ll send one of the lads by with a letter in Luthene’s hand looking for the cash. In the letter, there’ll be a phrase, so as you know it’s on the level, see? It’ll say ‘knife’s edge’ in the wording somewhere. If you ain’t seeing that, it ain’t me and don’t give ‘em a bent copper, yeah?” Galin extended his hand and Blas took it with a firm grip. “And that, the blood money there, I want you to hold it aside, personal-like. And see about buying into something that’ll make a fellow some money? Poor as bloody church mice we are, so anything you could put it toward that’ll see some silver back’d be appreciated. And don’t worry on scruples, just make cash, yeah?”

“Be safe, Northman. I would not want to think of what other brute they would pick after you were the best they could find. I will look after your silver. Travel with the gods.”

With the goldsmith’s words ringing in his ears, Galin headed back to the Mermaid to find Colum preparing the horses for the journey. For obvious reasons, Luthene wanted to be gone quickly and Galin could not blame her. When he returned to their rented room, he found her gathering his things and he eased them out of her hands and onto the bed then hugged her. “You are worrying too much, my love. I can see it on your face. We’re soldiers. We expect this sort of thing. And once we’re Hillsford, with our friends about us, we’ll be safe as anything.” Kissing her softly, he smiled. “After all, what sort of husband would I be if I let my bride get cut to pieces before we even get married, eh? Pretty poor one at that, that’s what. Now come on. A good clip’ll see us back in the fort by nightfall tomorrow. I’ll tell you about Blas on the way.” Taking her hand, he lead her down to the courtyard where Colum led their horses, mounting in front of Luthene again. “And if you get sick on her this time, boy-o, we aren’t stopping, you’d best be sober as a priest.” Hauling himself ungainly into the saddle, Galin turned his horse’s head toward the East gate and dug back his heels. He could not wait to put the problems of the city behind him.