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passes for a warrior in these parts. A couple of the farmers are strong, but none are trained to fight.
    “I only know what I know because my father formed a militia when I was a boy and we fought a lot of thugs in our day.” He pointed to the scars on his arms. “Make no mistake, these were honestly earned, Kaspar. But now I’m an old man. I would fight, but I know I wouldn’t win.”
    “Well, this Raj might not be the first bandit to found a dynasty. Where I come from—” He dropped the thought, then said instead, “If he can bring order and safety to people like Jojanna and Jorgen—women and children—that would be a good thing, no?”
    “I guess. Whatever is going to happen will happen. But I reserve the right to complain.”
    Kaspar chuckled. “Feel free.”
    “Are you staying with Jojanna?” he asked, and Kaspar took his meaning.
    “No. She’s a good woman who hopes that her husband is still alive.”
    “Slim chance. If he is, he’s toiling in a mine, working on some rich merchant’s farm to the south, or fighting in the arena down in the City of the Serpent River.”
    “I have my own plans, in any event,” said Kaspar. “They don’t include being a farmer.”
    “Didn’t take you for one. Soldier?”
    “For a time.”
    “Something else, too, I wager,” said Sagrin. Heaving himself out of the chair he added, “Well, I might as well get started; the sun will be up in an hour and I rarely fall back to sleep easily, especially if I must sleep with a sword in my hand.”
    Kaspar nodded. “I understand.”
    He now knew what his next step must be. He needed to head south. There was a man gathering an army there, no matter what he called himself, and he had horses.
    Kaspar needed a horse.

FIVE
SOLDIER
    Kaspar waited silently.
    He crouched behind some low brush while a patrol of cavalry rode by. He had encountered two other patrols over the last week since leaving Jojanna’s farm. Given what little he knew of these people, he had decided to avoid contact with them. Common soldiers had a decided tendency to use weapons before asking questions, and Kaspar had no desire to end up dead, a prisoner, or enlisted into any army at the point of a sword.
    Leaving the farm had proved more troubling than he had expected. Jorgen seemed especially disturbed by the prospect of being alone with his mother again. On the other hand, the mule would help with all the heavy work, and Kelpita had a son who would come and work with them during harvest so Jojanna wouldn’t lose her grain.
    Kaspar considered how they would have fared had he never arrived. They’d still be scrabbling to run the farm and wouldn’t have had enough wood or the mule.
    Still, it had been harder to say goodbye than he had anticipated.
    A couple of days before, he had skirted a village that appeared to be a staging post for the local patrols, and then had bartered a day’s work at a farm just off the road for a meal. The food had been meager and they had only offered him water to drink, but he had been glad for it. Kaspar remembered the lavish meals that had been the hallmark of his court, but quickly pushed the memory aside. He’d happily kill someone for a cut of hot rare beef, a bowl of his cook’s spiced vegetables, and a flagon of good Ravensberg wine.
    Certain the riders were now gone, Kaspar returned to trudging along the road. What had been a broken old highway appeared to be in better condition the farther south he moved. There were signs of relatively recent repair-work at various places he had passed over the last two days.
    As he rounded a bend in the road, he saw a large town in the distance. The land around him was getting progressively more verdant and abundant. Whatever else this Raj of Muboya had done, he had pacified the territory around his capital to the point at which farmers were prospering again; farms lined the road and orchards were visible up on the hillsides. Perhaps in time this more peaceful aspect would be