Warprize

city?”
    “My thanks, but no. The warprize knows the way.”
    The guard glanced at me, and his eyes bulged out. I looked away. We sat in silence for a moment as he stared.
    “The gate,” Keir growled.
    The guard started, then gave a shout for the gate to be opened and the portcullis raised. As soon as the way was clear, we headed into the city. The only crowds were the normal crowds of a market day. Keir brought his horse up short and looked over his shoulder at me with a question in his eyes. I moved my horse up next to his. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
    “Tell you?” I flushed slightly.
    He narrowed his eyes, and studied me. Finally he turned away. “Would there be time to see more of the city? I have only seen the main road.”
    I nodded and pointed off to our left. “That will take us along the west wall, and eventually to the palace.”
    Keir gave me a sly smile. “Where is the shop that sells the vanilla?”
    “Close to where the tinker’s cart was.”
    He nodded, looking around. “We will head that way. What is a ‘crier’?”
    I smiled. “Someone who walks in front of your horse, crying out your name and title. Usually used by someone who thinks he is of great importance and is afraid no one knows it.”
    Keir looked offended. He moved off in that direction, and I fell in behind, with our escort riding around us. That went against road custom in the city, to ride so far abreast. But I doubted any of the City Guard would fine us. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a guardsman running for the palace. I suspected that word would spread fairly quickly that we were in the city.
    The townspeople’s reactions were almost predictable. First there was outrage at the violation of road custom, then recognition of the Warlord. At that point, their faces were not welcoming. Then they’d spot me as the procession continued. My cloak was open, the dress visible, and it was causing quite a stir. Thank the Goddess that Keir had headed for the shops. The pleasure streets were on the other side of the city; I could only imagine how the denizens would have reacted. Our escort stayed close, and Rafe and Prest stayed right by my side, scanning the crowds. Some of the townspeople tried to approach me, but Keir’s glare and the presence of the guards discouraged them. I settled for a nod and a smile to any that I recognized. Most were content to wave and call out to me as we passed by.
    The streets were crowded with marketgoers scurrying about, their arms filled with baskets and bundles. One man went by with three chickens in his arms, squawking and flapping their wings. My horse shied a bit, which brought me dire looks from the men around me, but I brought it under control. I could tell that they hadn’t spent time in cities before, or at least cities the size of Water’s Fall. They were on alert, and on their guard, eyes taking in the crowds, the buildings crammed together, some leaning out over the streets. They were doing their best not to be overawed, but I could tell that they were impressed. Once in a while, one would wrinkle his nose at the smells, or start at a strange noise, but no one made a comment. We continued on without incident, moving past the army barracks by the Great South Gate. By now, word of our coming had spread, and there were folk lining the streets to see us. For the most part they were quiet, merely speaking among themselves as we passed. Needless to say, the dress drew its fair share of attention.
    Finally, we arrived at the market. I pointed out Estoval’s shop. Keir dismounted, and gestured for me to follow. The others took up positions, clearing an area in front of the shop. Keir opened the door, and I followed, curious.
    Thankfully, the fragrant shop was empty of customers. Es-toval turned to greet us and his mouth fell open.
    I felt the heat rise in my face. Keir stared at the man, then looked at me for a long moment, eyes narrow. He opened his mouth, and took a breath to speak.
    He grimaced then sneezed. Explosively.
    That snapped Estoval out of his trance. “Warlord! How may I serve you?”
    “Merchant, do you sell vanilla?” He pronounced the word slowly and carefully.
    “Yes, Warlord, in many forms, although it is quite expensive. Did you want ground, whole beans, the oil?
    ”
    “Yes.” Keir looked at me. “See to it.” He sneezed, then caught my eye with a flash of a grin that took my breath away. “Buy lots. Buy it all. And whatever else you