“My prince sends you greetings and news he considers urgent. I am called Faksutterk. Where is the hall of Arcolinfulk?”
Properly, the “hall” was that still being excavated by his tribe of gnomes, but Arcolin was of no mind to ride there today in the snow. As well, he knew that his tribe needed more time to make what they considered a proper hall. On the other hand, gnome protocol insisted that a gnome hall was the proper place to discuss business.
“It is that I must speak to the mayor of this vill today,” Arcolin said. “You are welcome in my stronghold as envoy of Aldonfulk, incurring no obligation.”
Faksutterk bowed. “It must ask: Stronghold is Arcolinfulk hall?”
“No,” Arcolin said. “Arcolinfulk hall is in hills to west.” He pointed. “Stronghold is for human troops in training.” He wondered how much Faksutterk understood of his situation.
“It is that all is aboveground?”
“No,” Arcolin said. “Stone below as well, chambers for kapristi visitors, where Arcolinfulk dwelt until they had excavated enough of the tribe’s stone right.”
Faksutterk bowed again. “I will go and await Prince Arcolin’s return if that please the prince.”
“It pleases the prince,” Arcolin said. “Go in Law, carrying Law.”
Faksutterk’s eyes gleamed. “Law is life.”
“Law is life.” Then, to the stablemaster, Arcolin said, “Go swiftly back to the stronghold and tell Captain Arneson to expect this gnome and be sure all is prepared for him in the best cellar. I must speak to Mayor Fontaine and will then return. I had hoped to make it to Duke’s West today as well, but courtesy for the guest must come first unless there is an emergency.”
The stablemaster saluted, turned the exercise string—now much more docile—and picked up a trot along the road back to the stronghold. With a last bow to Arcolin, Faksutterk followed the horses.
Mayor Fontaine wasn’t at his house but with a half dozen men at the mill, clearing the drifts from the mill lane. “My lord Duke!” Fontaine said. “How fares the stronghold?”
“Recruits are busy clearing the courtyard,” Arcolin said. “And my stepson is doing his best to clear a path to the well in the little court.”
Fontaine grinned. “My lord, you’re fortunate in that lad. And his mother, of course, but I must say … the lad should make a fine officer some day.”
“And a fine heir, perhaps?” Arcolin said. “I’m pleased with him, I admit. Started calling me ‘Da’ sooner than I expected, and he’s cheerful and active. Tries to be helpful, as today.”
“Village likes him,” Fontaine said. “He gets along with the childer when you bring him in, speaks polite to adults.” He chewed his mustache a moment. “If you chose, m’lord, to adopt him as your heir, wouldn’t anyone here mind, I’m thinking, assuming he grows as he started.” He yanked his shovel out of the snow. “Most do.”
“Anything in the vill I need to know about?”
“Savin’ that gnome passed through this morning? But you met him already—no, nothing once we get the mill going again. You might drop in on Kolya; she’s had a bit of fever. M’wife’s checked on her ‘most every day but not yet today.”
“I’ll do that.” Arcolin mounted again and rode over the bridge to Kolya’s house. Smoke rose straight into the sky, but he saw no marks in the snow from a visitor that day. He hitched his horse, took the shovel from its mount over the door, and cleared the doorstep and then the path to the gate. The latchstring hung outside, coated with snow; he brushed it free, knocked twice, then opened the door.
Kolya, bundled in blankets, halflay on a chair with a footstool placed near the fire. She turned her head, then threw back one blanket. “My lord—” A cough racked her.
“Don’t get up,” Arcolin said, closing the door behind him. “Fontaine said you had a fever.”
She nodded and lay back in the chair, her hand plucking at the blanket. Arcolin looked around the neat front room, then opened curtains to let in the sunlight before approaching her. She looked tired and sick, her lips more gray than pink. He spotted a copper can set near the fire—sib, probably—and an empty mug on the table at her side and poured a mug for her. She sipped it but put it down still more than half full.
“Fontaine said his wife checked on you daily—but Kolya, you need more care than that.”
A shrug; she looked away.
“Kolya … is it just the fever? What else is wrong?”