The guard eyes them both, a long mistrustful glance that is only just barely not a glare.

"I think that could be arranged," he says. "If you'll both come with me."

He puts two fingers to his lips and gives a sharp whistle, then tilts his head to indicate that they should precede him out of the orchard and into the broader courtyard. As he steps aside to let them pass, two other guards (evidently summoned by the whistle) approach briskly from that direction.

This is starting to look less like an escort and more like an arrest.