CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CARROWAY and Carina made their way into the palace city, hidden by the crowds that came to celebrate the Hawthorn Moon. Above them on the cliffside, the castle Shekerishet loomed dark and watchful. But today the city's attention was not on the palace and its king, but on the revelry that marked the coming of the solstice.

The streets were a solid press of people, crowding to see curbside shows or buy sweetmeats from the vendors that hawked their wares along the thoroughfares. It was obvious that this year, the festival-goers planned to spend as little time in the city with its guards as possible. They arrived in droves late in the day just before the festival's start, and Carroway bet that the crowds would clear out very quickly once the festivities were over. It was a stark contrast to the nearly empty streets just days before. The smells of roasting meat and hearty ale wafted from the makeshift booths, and pilgrim and villager alike eagerly pressed around the carts. The crowd was in a festival mood, despite the guards who lingered at the edge of the town square. Whether the guards expected trouble or merely meant to make their presence felt Carroway did not know, but the feeling of being watched made him anxious for the night's work to begin.

Carroway and Carina made their way through the crowded streets, toward the small tavern where they had arranged to meet Macaria, Helki, and Paiva. Carina hoped that Carroway's friends had been able to recruit more minstrels to their cause. She relaxed, just slightly, when they passed an unfamiliar bard whose song she recognized. It was one of the new songs Carroway and his friends at the inn had been practicing, songs designed to spread dissent. Quickly, Carina glanced over her shoulder, but the guards were on the other side of the square, breaking up a fight between two drunks. Before the guards returned, the dissident bard vanished into the crowd.

"I know them!" Carroway whispered to Carina.

"The guards?"

Carroway shook his head. "The 'drunks.'" They're bards. I'll bet ten skrivven the fight was staged to distract the guards."

Carina smiled. "Sounds like the party is starting without us."

They rounded a corner and found a storyteller surrounded by a small crowd. Two guards lingered at the edge of the group, waiting for the storyteller to say something out of line. But before he reached the climax of his tale, a burst of flame and a puff of smoke started from a merchant's cart at the far end of the block. The two guards sprinted toward the disturbance, where a hunched old woman in a tattered robe was muttering and wringing her hands, talking to herself. The guards tried to extinguish the fire, which seemed to grow larger the more the old woman tried to help. Finally, the guards shooed the woman away. Meanwhile, the storyteller's tale had veered into a dramatic recounting of a peasant uprising, a bloody tale of a corrupt king brought to justice. By the time the guards put out the fire, the storyteller was gone.

"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 city 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."