Neri decided that Iven would come to the market after she finished the last wall inspection.
She told him this while he was trying to remove dried oil from the lance’s new collar with a piece of cloth too small for the job.
“You can bring a larger rag tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ve nearly got it.”
“You said that before supper.”
He looked up at the light outside. The yard lamps were being lit. Somewhere beyond the gate, a fiddle had found the beginning of a tune and was waiting for the rest of the musicians to agree with it.
Neri held out a clean shirt.
He put down the collar.
