"Look there," Carina said, pointing into the crowd at a short, robed figure that ducked around a corner and disappeared from view.
"What?" Carroway asked, peering over the crowd. "I don't see anything."
"Come on," Carina said, grabbing him by the wrist. They pushed their way through the crowd, past a trio of puppeteers and their bawdy show to follow the robed figure. It was the old woman who had been with the burning cart. They caught up half way down the street, and Carina broke into a broad smile.
"It is you!" she cried, as the stranger glanced up.
The cowl fell back to reveal Alyzza. The old hedge witch smiled a wide, broken-toothed grin and clasped Carina into a hearty embrace.
"By the Lady, I knew you'd come!" Alyzza exclaimed, greeting Carroway with equal heartiness. "I knew if you were still alive, you'd be in Margolan for the Hawthorn Moon." Her eyes narrowed. "Will the deed be done tonight?"
Carina nodded, glancing around them. "We're to make sure there's enough of a ruckus in the village that the guards are distracted," she whispered. "There's not much time."
Alyzza clapped in glee. "Oh that's fine with me!" the old hedge witch exclaimed. "I haven't raised a real fuss since before you were born. Just tell me what you need, and I'll keep them hopping." Once Carroway told Alyzza about the plot to enlist the minstrels' help, she motioned for Carina and Carroway to follow her, leading them through the feast day crowds toward the Bristle Boar Inn where Macaria and the others waited.
Helki was waiting for them at the bar. When they entered, he rose and walked toward a private room in the back. Without a word of greeting, Carroway and the others followed him, remaining silent until the minstrel closed the door behind them.
"Are you sure we're safe here?" Carina asked.
Helki nodded. "The innkeeper's daughter disappeared when she went up to the palace after the coup. She'd been seeing your friend Soterius. When she went looking for him, she was never heard from again." Helki's expression made clear his distaste. "Our innkeeper bears no love for the crown."
Macaria and Paiva greeted both Carroway and Carina with embraces, and Carroway was heartened to see a dozen other bards and musicians packed into the small room. "This isn't all of us, not by half," Paiva said. "We've been recruiting since we left you at the Sparrow's Roost. There must be five score of us, or more. We've been playing all over town for the last few days." She grinned wickedly.
"Saving our best songs for this evening, naturally. But Lady True! What a reaction there's been, even to the ditties we've sung so far-mark my words, the crowd is angry. With enough ale, they'll be spoiling for a fight!"
"Our innkeeper enlisted a few of his friends around town," Macaria said. "Especially the ones near the guards' posts. The later the night gets, the more they'll fill the glasses, without extra charge. By the Crone! We should have the town drunk and fighting by tenth bells." Macaria laughed as Carroway pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek in glee.
"So it's true what they've told us? Prince Martris is returned to win the throne?" asked one of the minstrels, a dark haired boy who held a fiddle in one hand. Carina looked from the boy to Carroway, and then to the other musicians crowded into the small room.
Carroway stood and nodded. "It's true," he said, all mirth gone. "It's going to be a hard fight. Tris is a Summoner now-maybe the strongest spirit mage since Bava K'aa. But Arontala is powerful, and he'll be drawing on the power of the Obsidian King. It's going to be a battle."
The boy met Carroway's eyes defiantly. "I'd rather die a free man than live like we have been, under Jared's rule. We can't go on like this. If there's a chance to be rid of Jared, then I'm in, and Istra damn the consequences!"
"Istra aside, there are still the guards to contend with. We've been pretty successful at creating diversions so that we can draw off the guards, but it doesn't always work. Kason lost a couple of teeth when the guards roughed him up for the song he sang about Bricen. He was lucky it wasn't worse." Macaria gave a dangerous smile. "But I could feel how angry the crowd was when the guards broke them up. A little more ale, and I think we can turn this our way."
Carroway nodded. "Don't start anything unless you've got a clear exit. With luck, the crowd will figure out that there are more of them than there are of the soldiers, but the guards still have their clubs and dogs. Let's not get anyone hurt if we can help it."
"Except for the guards," Paiva supplied.
Carroway grinned. "Yeah. Except for the guards."
Chapter Thirty-five
After Carroway and Carina left their basement hiding place, the candlemarks passed at a crawl. Tris paced, too tense to rest. They waited out the remainder of the day until evening gave them cover to move. There was no way of knowing whether Carroway and Carina had worked their plan in safety, or whether they had been captured and the venture betrayed. Tris could see the same tension in his companions' faces, though none of them spoke their thoughts. Dusk on the night of the Hawthorn Moon finally approached, leaving only a few candlemarks until midnight. Tris checked his weapons again. Gabriel joined them at sundown.
"It's time," Gabriel said, stepping to the door as the ninth bells rang in the city below. The summer night was windless and unseasonably cool. High above, clouds obscured the moon.
Good, Tris thought. The darker it is, the more likely we can drop in unnoticed.
Hassad's ghost awaited them. "I can't take you the entire way, my liege, because of the banishing spell. But I can lead you to the best pathway up the mountain."
"I'll take them up the mountain," Gabriel said.
"I want Jared alive, to pay for what he's done," Tris said. "If any hand slays him, it should be mine."
Gabriel bowed his head in acknowledgment. "As you wish, my liege. You may find my... .talents... useful in reaching your goal." Even in near darkness, the pallor of his face was a noticeable contrast. "I hunger."
They fell silent, making their way in the shadows at the edge of the roadway. Twice they dodged into the bushes to escape patrols, narrowly evading a confrontation. As the path began a steep incline up the mountain behind the palace, the roadway became less traveled and more difficult. At the road's end, still a candlemark's climb from the peak, Hassad stopped.
"I can't go further," the spirit said. "May the blessing of the Goddess be with you, my liege." He dropped to one knee in fealty.
Tris gestured for the ghost to rise. "You've served this kingdom faithfully. If tonight's workings don't release you, I'll return, by the grace of the Lady, and set your spirit to rest."
Hassad inclined his head in gratitude. "What I served in life I serve willingly in death. Go, and may the hand of the Lady be upon you."
Tris led the others up the rocky slope where no road marked their way. Gabriel picked out safe passage when the moonlight failed them, guiding the party to the peak. Finally they stood overlooking the palace city. Below them, partially carved from the mountain itself, was Shekerishet.
"Here's where it gets interesting," Tris murmured as they unpacked the climbing gear. In silence, Tris, Kiara, and Vahanian secured themselves into their sturdy harnesses and anchored their climbing ropes. Then, with a glance among the three companions and nods to indicate completion, Tris lowered himself over the edge and began to carefully make his way down the cliff face. Below them in the mews Tris could hear the cry of Kait's falcons. Jae circled in kinship, hissing to the captive birds of prey.
Gabriel signaled silently to them, descending to a shadowed place out of sight of the guards. They watched as a small noise attracted the attention of the two guards beneath them. The doomed soldiers approach Gabriel's hiding place. The only sound that traveled up to them was a gasp of astonishment. Moments later, Gabriel appeared from the shadows and signaled them to descend.
"You're one hell of a scout," Vahanian muttered to Gabriel as they reached the stone walkway and rapidly detached themselves from the harnesses.
Kiara moved quickly to the mews and gently set Jae down n
ear the caged falcons. The gyregon hissed and the falcons responded with an answering cry. Carefully Kiara opened the cages and stood back as Jae flew into the air. Tris joined her. They each took up the gloves of the falconers that lay nearby, carefully removing each bird and its hood and launching the falcons into the air from their gloved forearms. The birds soared up to where Jae circled. Most fell in behind him. A few decided to challenge the newcomer, but the sparring was brief and decisive and the gyregon emerged dominant. Kiara and Tris removed the gloves, and Kiara smiled.
"I think we can be sure that the roof is secure," she murmured.
Gabriel stepped forward, beckoning for them to follow him. Even by moonlight, Tris noted that the vayash moru's pallor had decreased, and his lips seemed more full and red.
"Come. The hunt is on," Gabriel said.
By the ninth bells on the day of the Hawthorn Moon, Carroway and Carina had made the rounds of the city, finding that word of the uprising had preceded them among the other minstrels, who had added ideas of their own.
Already, the mood of the revelers was beginning to shift. The minstrels' songs took on a harder edge, replacing the maudlin love songs with ballads of heroes who threw off tyrants' yokes, and the great warriors of Margolan's past. Groups of wandering actors played out their skits, but now the tales told of villagers defying corrupt soldiers and maidens rescued from defilement. Guards set their dogs on the crowd, but one of the cart vendors tossed his load of meat pies in the opposite direction, drawing off the snarling dogs, who ran like puppies to snatch up the fallen treats. Angered, the guards started to beat the vendor, but the crowd closed around them, and one man who was as broad as both guards together and a head taller than either of them hefted one of the guards in both hands and hurled him against a nearby wall. The other guard began to run, and the crowd pelted him with garbage as he fled.
By the tenth bells the crowd grew restless, then belligerent. Tales of hardship and oppression resonated within the audience. A dozen villagers climbed the bell tower and tore down the royal banner, setting it ablaze. Cries of outrage against the palace grew more strident.
"Now let's really get their attention," Carroway hissed. He headed toward the guardhouses just beyond the city gates, below the palace. A crowd milled there, mostly alesmen and whores tending to the needs of the guards. Positioning Carina and Alyzza for an easy escape, Carroway strolled among the crowd, ostentatiously juggling several flaming batons.
"You there, let's see you juggle!" called the captain at arms, leaning away from the strumpet beside him.
Carroway obligingly came closer, sending the fiery batons high into the night air. The soldiers gathered around, cheering and clapping. The whore withdrew a coin from her bodice and tossed it at Carroway's feet.
On the pretense of glancing at the coin, Carroway dropped one of his batons into the haystack nearest the guardhouse. The other two flaming batons went flying, one landing on the thatched roof of the outpost, the other landing so close to the drunken guardsman that he and his strumpet were obliged to jump out of its way.
"Stop him!" the captain cried.
"Now!" Carroway shouted. Alyzza flung a handful of pellets onto the ground between Carroway and his pursuers. The pellets exploded into puffs of colored smoke, startling the guards. With a touch of her own, Alyzza summoned a ball of magefire, giving the smoke an eerie glow and setting the guards back a pace. It was enough of a diversion for Carroway and Carina to lose themselves in the crowd as the fire raged and the guards' attention turned to salvaging their post.
The flames were the signal the rowdy crowd needed. Soldiers tried in vain to keep back the revelers as the mob surged forward. Wielding whatever came to hand, whether broken boards or broom handles, the surly crowd pressed toward the soldiers. The captain waved his sword in vain. More shouts sounded a few streets over. In the distance, another guard house went up in flames.
One of the guards sent an arrow flying. It struck a man at the front of the mob, taking him through the heart. Like a spark to tinder, the crowd's rage ignited. A wave of rioters swept forward. There was the sound of glass shattering as men smashed wine bottles to use as weapons. The night smelled of sweat and ale and of burning straw. To the soldiers' horror, the angry revelers advanced with a howl and did not stop, even when more men fell to the archers' arrows.
Alyzza's hand moved, hidden by the press of bodies around them. The stable doors flew open and a loud noise sent the guards' horses stampeding out the back, fleeing in panic down the streets. She chuckled as her hand traced a sigel in the air. "I've fused the blades together in the armory," she called to Carina. "Let them try to use those!"
Rocks crashed through the windows of the guard house. One of the guards fell with a hunting knife protruding from his chest. The panicked soldiers rushed the crowd, brandishing swords. The mob advanced, beating back the soldiers with staves and walking sticks. Two men came running with the spoils from a looted blacksmith's forge. The rioters took up a cry as metal bars replaced walking sticks and horseshoes flew with deadly aim at the soldiers. Three more guardsmen fell to the ground as the crowd rushed forward, dragging their own dead and wounded out of the way.
The hapless guards, faced with several hundred drunken and increasingly well-armed festival goers, abandoned their burning post and fled. The crowd cheered and pelted the fleeing soldiers with rocks.
"I thought this was just supposed to be a diversion," Carina said as they watched the fire from afar.
"I think there's more loose tonight in the crowd that some ale," Carroway said. "Looks like we touched a raw nerve."
"Aye, but can you control what you've started?" Alyzza cackled as the flames grew higher.
Chapter Thirty-six
Carefully, Tris, Kiara, Vahanian and Gabriel made their way into Shekerishet. Outside the tenth bells chimed, reminding Tris that within two candlemarks' time their quest must be successful or lose everything. Gabriel slipped ahead of them to clear their path and disappeared into the shadows. Tris felt for the pouch at his belt and took a wad of rope vine from it, holding the bit of dried leaves clenched in his teeth as a precaution against wormroot-tainted traps.
Tris stretched out his senses. The absence of castle ghosts left an uneasy void. In their place was a new, dark presence that chilled him.
Arontala, Tris thought, and the orb. The dark magic permeated the castle, although Tris could not pinpoint any single place as its locus. He headed for the throne room with every mortal and mageborn sense on high alert, his sword in hand, Kiara and Vahanian behind him.
Tris found his way through the corridors of Shekerishet easily, memories returning as he wound through the darkened hallways. Twice they pressed themselves into the shadows as a servant passed by. Around one corner, they found the still-warm bodies of half a dozen guards, the corpses unmarked except for the bloodless punctures on their necks. Three more guards happened upon them from the opposite direction. Vahanian's crossbow silenced one before he had time to realize he was under attack. Kiara made short work on the second, running him through. Tris swung into a clean Eastmark kick, sending his opponent sprawling, and finished the third with a single sword stroke. They did not bother to hide the bodies, but their pace increased. Tris hoped that Gabriel had made a clean sweep of the area in front of them.
Tris moved carefully, mindful of the traps he had encountered in his training at the citadel. Surely Jared has protections in place, Tris thought. There are enough of his subjects who want to kill him. Mortal guards could be easily removed by Gabriel without the sound of a scuffle. But the further into Shekerishet they got without springing any traps, the more concerned Tris became.
He's expecting me. He knows I'm coming for the orb. Like a spider with a web. All he has to do is wait.
"I don't like this," Vahanian muttered under his breath. "I don't trust anything that's this easy."
"Do you think we've been betrayed?" Kiara whispered.
Tris shook his head. "Jared doesn't ne
ed a spy to guess that we'd come for the Hawthorn Moon. Arontala probably thinks it's too far gone for us to turn it around. Jared figures he'll sit back and let Arontala do the fighting, and come in for his fun once we're beaten."
"It still means we're being set up," Vahanian said, his grip tight on his crossbow. "The question is-when does the trap spring?"
Just before they reached the throne room, Vahanian put up a hand for caution and moved ahead slowly, his attention drawn to a dark pile on the floor. He ventured ahead a step or two, and then waved for the others to follow. Four men in the livery of the king's personal guard lay dead in a heap.
"Gabriel's going to need a week to sleep this off." Vahanian shivered as he looked at the punctures in the dead men's throats.
A few more steps and the doors to the throne room stood before him. Tris paused, stretching out his senses once more. He felt the blood magic that wrapped itself around Shekerishet like a moist shroud, so strong that it seemed to come from everywhere at once. He focused his senses on Mageslayer, and felt the spelled blade thrum with power. The sword itself seemed to pulse, sensing their mission. Tris glanced at Kiara and Vahanian. They nodded, their weapons ready. Trap or not, the night's work would begin in earnest as soon as they found Jared.
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