"I am Lady Areinh Beit-Sad'r, Keeper of the Fifth Sign, Red Lady of the Crane House," she intoned loudly. "May I present my escort. Rider Feareborne. Rider Savastian. Rider Bartha. Rider Tuoil. All knights of the White Riders."
Knights of the White Riders. Was that how they were seen, in this place or any other? Eragos had belonged to an order of knighthood before. While it was possible to linger in a tavern all through the day and become infuriatingly drunk in either order, the odds were far great in a true knighthood that you'd be thrown in the stockade and lashed twice daily for all to see. In the White Riders, your worst punishment was frequently a hangover and a cleaning of the stables. It was not to say that they had no discipline, but they were not makers of war. They were keepers of the peace.
It was acceptable to come as you were.
"You brought the gift of good meeting?" Orill seemed impatient.
"Before I-"
"This was not the arrangement," Orill informed them; his mouth thinned into a hard line. "The gift of good meeting was to be presented first, before you make any demands upon our time. You are an outsider, but not a fool, Areinh of the great crane. Do as you agreed to do."
Areinh's beautiful face, for an instant, was turned with anger. She was not used to being addressed without her title, Eragos assumed. She seemed furious. Yet one hand dipped into the heavy cloak which covered her. Orill was not watching her. He was watching her retinue. Waiting for any sign of unease or preparation. Everyone there was too skilled for such a display. And yet. Eragos himself was waiting for even the slightest flash of anger.
A creak of leather. Yet it did not come from Orill or his. At least, not the ones in front of Eragos.