Fairs' Point by Melissa Scott

Eslingen eyed him thoughtfully, but the dog seemed content, and he retreated to his own bed, sliding into the space against the wall.
    “After the fuss it made all the way back from the Western Reach, you wouldn’t think it would choose to settle there.”
    “ Well, they call them basket terriers for a reason,” Rathe said, stripping off coat and breeches, and slid between the sheets in nothing but his drawers and a shirt so thin as to be almost transparent.
    They had left the bedcurtains open and the shutters cracked to let in the night breeze; Eslingen could hear a tower clock in the di stance and the sound of a cart on the cobbles beyond the garden wall. Part of him wanted to postpone this conversation even if just for the night, but he knew Rathe would blame him if he delayed.
    “ Coindarel was at the Redistribution.”
    “ Oh?”
    “ I talked to him a bit,” Eslingen said. “Well, to Estradere, really, but—”
    “ Estradere?” In the dark, it was impossible to read Rathe’s expression, but his tone was utterly neutral.
    “ Coindarel’s leman.” Eslingen gave the most reassuring answer first. “And his Master-Sergeant, most days.”
    “ And what’s that when he’s at home?”
    “ Second in command, but of the entire regiment, not with a company of his own like a captain.” Eslingen paused, trying gauge the other’s response, but could make out nothing in the shadows. “He made me an interesting offer.”
    “ Did he.”
    “ There’s apparently some talk that the Metropolitan might raise a new mounted unit,” Eslingen said carefully. “The City Guard, or some such, to be a bodyguard to the Queen and her heir, and to supplement the points outside the city walls where the writ doesn’t run. He said if it happens, Coindarel will offer me a captaincy.”
    Rathe was silent, not even a shift of breath to give away his rea ction.
    “ It’s a promotion,” Eslingen said. “Well, obviously. And regular pay, better than I have now. And no chance—well, almost none—that I’d be sent elsewhere to fight.” He made himself stop then, and lie still in the dark.
    Rathe shifted uneasily, the rustle of the mattress and the whisper of skin against linen. “I’d heard that rumor, too,” he said. “I’d hoped it wasn’t true.”
    “ Estradere was very clear than any judicial work was meant to be entirely subordinate to the points,” Eslingen said.
    Rathe snorted. “How long would that last, I wonder?”
    “ I wouldn’t even consider if I didn’t believe he meant it,” Eslingen said, and felt Rathe relax just a little.
    “ No, I know that. It’s just—Astree’s tits, Fourie must be furious.”
    From all Eslingen had heard, the Surintendant of Points was fiercely jealous of his rights, and he nodded in spite of hi mself.
    “ We’ve been working for years to get the trust of the city,” Rathe said. “To prove that we stand for the law and none other—”
    “ That’s not the intent,” Eslingen said quickly, and didn’t quite dare reach for him under the sheet.
    “ That’s the effect,” Rathe answered.
    Eslingen lay still for a long moment. After a bit, he said, tentatively, “The way it was put to me—you don’t have jurisdiction outside the city, I learned that Midsummer past. It took Coindarel’s Dragons to back us up, rescuing the children, and apparently Coindarel’s taken the same lesson to heart. It’s not meant to take anything away from the points.”
    “ Unless there’s a riot,” Rathe said. “Mounted troops are good at stopping that.”
    “ I don’t think that’s the intent.”
    “ I daresay it isn’t,” Rathe said, with sudden anger, “but Coindarel—and Astreiant herself, if this really is her idea—they’re stepping into a quarrel that’s older than either of them that they don’t understand in the slightest. The Regents would love to see us muzzled—”
    “ The Queen wouldn’t,” Eslingen said. “Astreiant wouldn’t.”
    “ You really want