Still Tangletoe hesitated. Gerard added one more incentive. "Here, I'll tell you what, you can even hold onto my sword for me. You won't have to use it, of course," he added hastily, "but just the fact that you're in possession of such a magnificent weapon will cow these villains."

Tangletoe's eyes went wide. "Wow! I can't believe what a good day I'm having so far."

"Wonderful! Then it's a done deal!" exclaimed Gerard, acting as though the matter were thoroughly decided. He clapped the kender on his bony shoulder. "You practice your music, watch over these two ruthless villains, and I'll be back to check on you a few times during the day."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me," Tangletoe said, stroking the sword lovingly. "I've tangled with villains before. Many, many villains. Why, as my Uncle Trapspringer used to say, 'When it comes to villains, Tangleknot'-he always used to call me Tangleknot, getting me confused with a distant cousin on my mother's side of the family whose name was Snarlknot. You see, if you take the 'Tangle' part of my name and the 'knot' part of my cousin's, you get-"

"That's great," Gerard said, ushering the council-men and Palin out the door and slamming it behind himself.

As soon as the door closed, the kender's flute started up, sounding loud and shrill even through the muffling effect of the stout jailhouse walls. Cardjaf Duhar shook his head irritably and strode quickly away, accompanied by the other councilmen, who whispered together out of earshot.

"Palin-" Gerard began.

Palin clapped Gerard on the shoulder, looked him in the eye, chuckled, and said, "Whatever you're up to, I don't want to know the details. I trust you. Good luck."

Then he, too, hurried beyond range of the kender's flute.

Inside the jailhouse, Gerard heard the two prisoners already calling for him to come back.

CHAPTER 21

The day was perfect for a town fair: hot, clear, and with the midsummer prospect of lasting just short of forever. Even before Gerard reached the field where the celebration was being held, he felt the town's collective air of feverish anticipation. Barrels were trundled down the cobbled streets of Solace toward the field, thundering their proclamation of wine and spirits to be dispensed at the fair. As Gerard got closer to the field itself, the dusty air grew thick with the aromas of a dozen different kinds of savory meats being baked, boiled, fried, and roasted, along with the lighter smells of fresh breads and creamy pastries hot from the ovens. Musicians could be heard warming up on pipes and tabors, trumpets and harps.

But if the smells and sounds promised much from afar, the actual fair, as Gerard saw when he arrived, exceeded even a child's most unrestrained expectations. Merchants and vendors had set up bunting-draped stalls all around the edges of the field in a rough circle. Already, the festive mood was leading to lowered sales resistance and open purses as revelers, many in masks and costumes, bought trinkets and baubles they might otherwise conclude they had little need for. Food and drink flowed in abundance from many of the stalls. Others offered beaded and feathered masks to anyone who regretted not having thought to come with their own. Here and there, jugglers and magicians, sword swallowers and tumblers passed through the crowd, receiving applause and coins for their efforts.

From somewhere on the field, the musicians began to play. Evidently, however, no one had informed them what tune they were to perform, or at any rate not all had paid attention when told, for they launched into enthusiastic renditions of at least half a dozen different melodies, with each person trying to bring his fellows round to his choice by sheer volume. Gerard grinned, finding even this cacophony preferable to Tangletoe Snakeweed's flute playing back at the jail.

He spotted Odila and Kaleen, arm in arm and looking for all the world like mother and daughter, coming through the crowd toward him.

"Hello there, Cornbread," Odila said with a smile.

"Lord Porridge," Kaleen said, blushing a little. Or maybe it was just the day's warmth, Gerard told himself.

He nodded, grinning unabashedly despite himself. "I would have thought you'd be busy at the temple until late into the night, getting ready for tomorrow," he said to Odila.

Odila and Kaleen exchanged a glance. "The day is young," Odila said. "Even hard-pressed clerics deserve a break once in a while. Meanwhile, Stonegate is there with his workmen even now, seeing to the finishing touches. There isn't much we can do now until they're done with the interior."

"Will it all be ready in time?" Gerard asked. For a moment Odila looked drawn. With effort, she brightened. "It had better be, or there will be an awful lot of disappointed people coming for the inaugural service tomorrow morning. But Stonegate assures us everything will be in order before then."

"He seems a good man," Gerard said. "I'm sure if he tells you everything will be all right, you can be assured it will be." He turned to Kaleen. "And what about you? What will you be doing later, while Odila's over at the temple?"

"Oh, I'll be busy as well," she said vaguely. "Lots to do."

Gerard shuffled for a moment, self-conscious because he didn't quite know where he was leading the conversation, or how to end it either. "Well, I suppose I'd better be…" he offered after a moment.

Odila smiled broadly, as if aware of his uncertainty. "Yes," she said, taking pity on his plight. "We had best be on our way as well."

Gerard nodded to each of them again, but before he could move away, Kaleen abruptly leaned forward on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then she and Odila strolled away, chattering conspiratorially, their heads together and laughing. Over her shoulder, Odila gave Gerard a teasing wink.

Gerard found himself suddenly warmer than the day alone could account for.

As Gerard walked on, he came upon Torren Soljack, away from his forge for once, standing in line to buy a skewer of meat from a vendor. Soljack reached the head of the line and pulled out his purse to count out the necessary coins. Before he could do so, however, Gerard stepped forward and pressed coins from his own purse into the vendor's hand. Soljack turned, surprised. "Thanks," he said gruffly upon seeing Gerard. His eyes flicked over the sheriff, taking his full measure. His expression, if possible, became more dour. "Still not wearing your sword, I see," he added. "You didn't happen to leave it with a deputy again, did you?"

"Yes, but only because doing so made him the best-armed man in Solace," Gerard said expansively, trying to stoke the smith's pride.

Soljack said nothing but went off chewing his meat, apparently satisfied.

One booth was attracting particular attention as Gerard drew near. A small target, hardly bigger than the bottom of an ale mug, had been mounted about heart-high on a post. The target was connected, by means of a system of levers and pulleys any gnome would envy, to a seat mounted above a large tub brimming with water. Cardjaf Duhar occupied the target seat in all his usual finery, looking a little embarrassed at being found in such an undignified situation.

For a modest sum, onlookers received three small bags filled with sand to hurl at the target. A long line of people eager to test their skill wound from the booth and out into the field. So far, no one had been able to hit the target. Cardjaf Duhar sat secure and dry, for all his chagrin.

"Excuse me," someone was saying as Gerard approached. "Excuse me, please."

The people waiting their turn parted to allow a very determined-looking Gatrice Duhar to step the front of the line. She smiled her apologies at those she had displaced, who appeared to accept her right to preeminence in this matter, and paid her sum to the man working the booth. When she had received her bags of sand, she hefted one, considering its weight.