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expected to find you one of de Calior’s creditors.”
    “ Nor I you, sir,” Eslingen said.
    Coindarel’s smile widened, became mischievous. “Ah, but the young man wished to consider the profession of arms—did he never tell you? So I have a responsibility there.”
    Eslingen couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow at that. De Calior had never shown the slightest interest in soldiering as far as he had seen. Oh, the boy was happy enough to learn swor dplay, that was suitable for a gentleman and the brother of a soueraine, but even there, his interest had been more in technique than competition. Eslingen could think of few people less likely to take up arms.
    “ A very fine horse,” Coindarel went on. “He’d suit you, Philip.”
    Eslingen suppressed a sigh, and shook his head with what he hoped was creditable grace. “Beautiful indeed, sir, but I’ve no need for a horse in Astreiant.”
    Coindarel lifted an eyebrow in turn. He had never been a handsome man, his lean brown face more notable for intell igence than beauty, and years of hard living through a dozen or more campaigns in the queen’s service had left deep lines and the white fleck of a scar at the point of his chin: a good commander and loyal to his men, Eslingen thought, and tried not to remember just how he’d earned his first commission.
    “ Prince-Marshal.” That was a woman in the court’s severe livery, her black coat buttoned from hem to chin, and Coindarel turned to her with his best smile.
    “ Madame. You received my request, then.”
    “ We have.” The woman bent her head in a polite bow. “The apportionment is not yet complete, but I believe there will be at least some women who’ll listen to your offer.”
    “ I hope they’ll all listen,” Coindarel said, and Eslingen could see the woman warming to him in spite of her grave responsibilities.
    But that was Coindarel for you, charming to the last, and Eslin gen looked back at the makeshift stall. The groom had seized the chance to pull the big horse back into the shadows, where there was less chance of him snatching hats and feathers, and Eslingen allowed himself a sigh of regret. Coindarel was right, King of Thieves would have suited him very well indeed.
    “ Lieutenant.” Patric Estradere had fallen behind the rest of his party, and touched Eslingen’s sleeve in polite invitation. “Walk with me a bit.”
    “ Of course, sir,” Eslingen said, and let enough surprise show in his voice to stand for a question.
    Estradere gave a wry smile. “De Calior was no more interested in going for a solider than his sister is, as I’m sure you know from teaching him. But he kept a very fine stable, and we’re here to see what we can pick up from his leavings.”
    Eslingen murmured some agreement, wondering why the Major-Sergeant was telling him this.
    “You may have heard rumors of a new City Guard?” Estradere touched the ribbon in his buttonhole.
    Eslingen shook his head. “I hadn’t, sir.”
    “ It’s a proposal of the Metropolitan’s,” Estradere said. “A small, elite troop, to act as royal bodyguard when needed and supplement the points when they need extra muscle. The plan is to mount them and arm them dragon-style—wheellock carbine, pistol, and saber, plus back-and-breast. Astreiant’s idea is that the points’ writ only runs in the city—something we were all made aware of midsummer past when the children were stolen—and there have been times when a miscreant broke free of the walls and couldn’t be pursued. Astreiant wants to close that loophole, and she sees the City Guard as the answer. They will answer to the Queen, to her, and to the points, in that order, and they’ll have explicit authority to take pursuit outside the city and bring it back—authority to take the case to the points and through them to the judiciary.”
    Eslingen took a breath. At first glance, it looked well enough, but the points wouldn’t stand for it, at least not ha ppily: their