The man whose dinner had contained the bone hook swallowed a large lump in his throat and massaged his neck. "I guess we don't need any oracle to tell us what would have happened if I'd swallowed that." The rest of the onlookers were silent. Delbridge struggled to look appropriately smug.

The man whose life had been spared addressed the barkeep. "Shanus, I don't know whether you intend to offer this man a room, but I'd like to buy him supper. What'll you have, friend?"

Delbridge didn't hesitate. "Anything but fish," he replied, filling the room with good-hearted laughter.

Reclining in his free room after the meal, Delbridge finally had time to think. He was hardly a wise man, but he was far from stupid. That this was magic he was certain, just as he knew it had to be the work of the bracelet. It was also the biggest thing he had ever gotten his hands on.

He had no idea what the bracelet's limits or capabilities might be, but its potential for turning a profit was huge. Assembling a stage show would be simple, once he knew how to control the item.

Control was a problem, however. Delbridge knew next to nothing about magic. He did know that a reputable wizard would charge an exorbitant fee to analyze the bracelet, and taking it to a disreputable wizard was out of the question. That left experimenting with it himself, learning its uses through trial and error. That path seemed crowded with peril, but Delbridge could think of no other alternative.

In the meantime, word of what had happened that evening would spread through the town like a fire. Better yet, it was likely that the two soldiers who'd been in the taproom during his display would carry the tale to the garrison in the castle, where eventually even the knight-what was his name, Curston?-would hear it.

Delbridge sat upright. This could be much bigger than any traveling mystic show, he realized. The service of a legitimate seer would be invaluable to a ruler. That could mean appointment to a royal court, which would bring to Delbridge everything he'd always wanted: leisure, respect, dignity, and wealth.

Delbridge's mind flashed back to the note on the taproom door: tomorrow was court day! Delbridge resolved to seek an audience with the knight and offer his service. But that left very little time to master the bracelet.

I have a long night ahead, Delbridge realized.

Chapter 8

"Straight up this road," said Shanus, pointing with his thumb. "Take the first right, just after the milliner's shop, and then a sharp left. You can't miss it, Master Omardicar-"

"-Omardicar is sufficient."

"Yes, sir. It's the first drawbridge over the river."

Already, thought Delbridge, people acted differently toward him. In preparing for today, he had sent a page from the inn to purchase a new suit of clothes more suitable to an oracle: a long purple gown trimmed with white rabbit fur and decorated with abstract designs, topped by a tall rabbit fur hat. Shanus even offered to lend Delbridge the money to pay for it, to be repaid after his royal appointment.

Greatly encouraged, Delbridge hurried up the street to the right, and then to the river. A large stone bridge with a removable plank roadway spanned the water. Beyond it loomed the castle, towering in the midmorning sun. Delbridge's footsteps on the bridge were drowned out by the thunderous, swiftly flowing waters below.

Again, Delbridge straightened his outfit and extended his hand to a guard. "Omardicar the Omnipotent, prognosticator extraordinaire, at your service. Perhaps you've heard of me?" The grim-faced guard, of the Solamnic order, judging from his drooping mustache, said nothing. "Yes, well, I seek an audience with Lord Curston. Good sir, kindly direct me to the proper hall."

The guard gave Delbridge an appraising look and a dubious snort, then shook his head. "If you had gotten here earlier, you could have passed through with everyone else. Pay attention, because I won't repeat this. You are standing at the outer south gatehouse. Go straight past me, then pass through the outer bailey to the inner south gatehouse. Someone there will direct you through the antechamber to the Lesser Hall in the keep, next to the West Chamber."

Delbridge's head reeled at the complex directions. "Tantallon seems peaceful enough. Why the elaborate defenses?"

"Tantallon is at peace because the castle is well fortified and we are always vigilant," the guard explained with obvious pride. "Lord Curston believes in being prepared. He employs many local tradesmen to continually improve the castle's defenses. His most recent addition, requiring the full-time services of thirty artisans, are the stone soldiers on the battlements, placed there to trick enemy scouts into thinking our numbers are even greater than they are."

The lord-knight's expenditures on defenses explained the town's prosperity, thought Delbridge. Let's hope the fellow believes in spreading the wealth.

"You'd better hurry, though," said the mustached guard. "There is quite a line ahead of you."

Delbridge thanked the guard abruptly as he passed him. Quickly crossing the outer courtyard, he went directly to the inner gatehouse as instructed, but no one was there as promised.

With a shrug, Delbridge let himself into the inner courtyard of the castle. In the courtyard, which was extraordinarily spacious, were hundreds of neatly kept merchants' stalls, many of them permanent structures of wood or wattle complete with thatched roofs and shuttered windows. They faced military barracks and parade grounds on the opposite side of the area. The cooking fires in the massive kitchens that serviced the keep filled the area with mouth-watering aromas. Mingled with smells from the stables and small food stalls, the ambience was unlike anything Delbridge had encountered before. Shaggy dogs and children romped freely among the carts in the cobbled inner area, scattering flapping chickens, who squawked their disapproval.

Delbridge tried to recall the guard's directions. If he remembered correctly, the entrance to the keep was next to the west chamber. He looked to his left, above the merchant stalls shutting their doors and windows in preparation for their noontime breaks. Squinting in the bright sun glaring off distant walls that circled the courtyard, he gave the large, rectangular keep his first real appraising glance.

At least five stories high, the keep was flanked on all four corners by round towers, one line of windows in each. Merlons and crenels encircled the roof, as they did on the outer walls, surrounding a jumble of chimneys. An occasional balcony jutted from slightly longer windows on the third floor, suggesting the locations of bedchambers or meeting rooms.

Delbridge stepped through the arched portico to the carved teakwood door and gave it a shove. Although twice as tall as he and perhaps five times as heavy, it swung open easily on well-oiled black iron hinges.

Delbridge was instantly enveloped by a familiar scent he had not smelled since leaving Thelgaard Keep, a fragrance of wealth and someone else's sweat: it was lemon-oil wax, commonly used to polish the great quantities of expensive wood found in wealthy homes. Delbridge had spent hours rubbing the slick, pungent paste into the banisters at Thelgaard during his demeaning time spent as third assistant steward. Toward the end of his tenure, he could no longer even smell the beeswax polish.

When his eyes adjusted to the dim torchlight, he discovered that he stood in an antechamber two stories high. The base of the walls was lined with stands of polished armor of every description, from leather to chain mail to full suits of plate mail. Filling the walls up to the two-story ceiling were weapons, hung so closely together they almost touched (and did in the case of several rosettes formed by swords). Long swords, short swords, maces, spears, halberds, axes, bows, crossbows, daggers, flails, and a host of other weapons Delbridge didn't even recognize decorated the entire hall. Every one appeared made of steel and that alone, if true, meant that this knight held a fortune in precious metal. Not to mention that he could equip a sizable army with quality weapons from this room. Delbridge's envy of the man was growing.