The next number also bore Carroway's mark, though it was a different set of minstrels who performed it. A suite of songs from Isen-croft, in honor of the king's betrothed, with dancers in the soft silk tunic and pants common in southern Isencroft. The entertainment was well-received, and Tris knew that Carroway had begun seeding Isencroft-themed songs and diversions into the entertainment of the palace months ago to ease the acceptance of a foreign queen.
After each course, as the kitchen prepared for the next indulgence, Zachar presented a dozen of the guests to the king. Soterius stood to Tris's left as the receiving line formed, close enough to draw his sword if trouble arose.
Tris looked out over the next group awaiting their moment of audience. Lord Acton was the first of many. There were rumors that he had turned away a legion of Jared's soldiers by his steady gaze and a curt word of dismissal. Acton bowed low as he approached the throne, slowed by his age.
"Rise, old friend."
"It's good to see you wear the crown, King Martris," Acton said in a voice as clear and strong as a young man's. "Some among us believe it was always the Lady's will that it be so."
"My father spoke often of his trust in you. I shall count on the same."
"The days are past when I can ride in battle, as I did with Bricen. But if I may yet serve, you need only give the word."
"Thank you."
"Good feast to you, my king," greeted the next noble in line. Tris steeled himself to show nothing on his face. Duke Guarov was as suspicious as Acton was trustworthy. Tris knew that Soterius had spies in Guarov's manor house. No links to Curane had been found— yet. Still, Guarov had managed to weather Jared's reign remarkably unscathed. While he had not openly collaborated, it was widely suspected that had had found less direct ways to keep the usurper king content. Rumor had it that Guarov had profited handsomely under Jared, aligning his blacksmiths, his farmers, and his craftsmen to turn out whatever the king demanded for a premium price. Tris accepted Guarov's professions of tribute with a stony face.
He brightened, however, when Lady Eadoin was presented. The elderly lady held the arm of a striking young woman. Eadoin and her companion curtsied low. Lady Eadoin's bloodlines were royal for as long as anyone with memory could count, far older even than Bricen's line-age. Eadoin was the last of a great noble family. Childless, she was Margolan's premier supporter of the bards.
"My king and lord," Eadoin said in a voice thick with the accent of Margolan's old nobility-
"My gracious lady," Tris replied, smiling.
"It will be good for Margolan to have a young queen once more. The royal nursery needs to be full once again."
"All things in due course, my lady."
A smile played at the corners of Eadoin's lips. "Of course, my king. My seer predicts that in the year to come, the year of your marriage, there will be ample harvest and fine wine. Such predictions are good for child bearing, you know."
"Your wish is gracious."
"Our kingdom prospers most when a good king has a healthy heir—or two," Eadoin said with a twinkle in her eye.
"We'll keep that in mind." Tris barely kept the laughter out of his voice.' He glanced back at Soterius to see him staring at the young woman who gently held Eadoin's arm.
"I don't know if you recall my niece, Alyssandra," Eadoin said with a hint of mischief in her voice. "Perhaps she and your friend have already met."
"Alle?" Soterius managed to stammer, looking completely at a loss.
Alyssandra tossed back her long blonde hair. "I told you no one was where they belonged or who they seemed, Ban Soterius!"
"I believe my niece may have met General Soterius during the insurrection," Eadoin said. "Alle helped some of the bards escape after the Usurper killed my brother's family. I thought Alle might make a good companion for the new queen. Help her navigate the court. Introduce her to the nobility." Eadoin leaned forward so that only Tris could hear her next words. "And watch her back. Alle slit two of the soldiers' throats the night she saved the minstrels."
"I think it would be lovely for Alle to meet Kiara. Her skills sound... perfect."
Eadoin patted him on the arm. "We'll talk later. Carroway can make arrangements." Eadoin allowed Alle to lead her back toward the tables, where a new course awaited.
The evening wore on, with course after course of food and a dizzying array of performers. Acrobats, magicians and a trained dog (whose abilities Tris sensed to be enhanced by magic) kept the crowd cheered. Finally, the bells tolled midnight, and Tris stood. He raised his glass in tribute.
"Good gentles," Tris said loudly. "Tonight, let both the living and the dead make merry!
As we are now, so once were they. And, by the Goddess, as they are now, so we shall someday be, so best we eat and drink while we may!" They were the same words his father had given a year before. Tris's mouth tasted of ash as he pronounced the blessing, knowing how ironic it had proven for his father.
The outer doors to the great room swung open and a black robed figure, its face shrouded by a deep cowl, stood in the doorway bearing a glittering chalice. The figure bowed in deference to Tris,.who bowed in return.
"Greetings, Grandmother Spirit. We are ready for the march." From behind the robed figure of the Crone emerged three costumed actors, each in one of the other three faces of the quartern Goddess: Mother, Childe, and Lover. Tris glanced at both Soterius and Har-rtuck who stood with him, and together they led the group assembled at the king's table down the aisle toward the waiting players, with the tables emptying as the other guests filed in behind them.
Carroway and the other musicians piped a haunting tune as the procession moved out of the dining hall, through the main corridor of the palace, and out of the main entrance. Tris's senses and his magic were on high alert in the throng, and he noted the number of guards. The night was cold enough that his breath misted as they headed toward the large bonfire at the far end of the bailey.
Some of the procession passed them by and continued into the town, costumed revelers in the guise of the four aspects of the Lady, drunk and ready to find entertainment this night. A smaller group carried single candles in a slow procession of dark, hooded figures. Those who sought special favors from the Lady often chose to spend the night of Haunts in silent reflection. Tris opened the king's private chapel to these penitents.
All around them, the smell and noise of the feast pressed close in the cold air. For those not invited to dine with the king, vendors sold roasted meat pies from carts and hawked watered ale. Others sold trinkets for lovers, good luck charms, divinations of dubious veracity, and shiny baubles.
"This year, no one gets his fortune told," Carroway said as he slipped up behind Tris. A parade of mourners carrying mannequins and puppets to resemble the dead wound their way through the crowd with song and the jangle of bells.
"You made a better-looking corpse than that," Soterius said, nodding at the figures held by several of the robed celebrants, "but damn you were heavy!"
Even now, Tris's memories of the escape were blurry, save for the piercing amber eyes of the Childe goddess whom he had glimpsed in the crowd, and whose murmured incantation had healed him.
The fire in the bailey burned high and bright, and revelers danced around it. The fire crackled with aromatic herbs to scent the smoke. Well-wishers threw bits of colored rags into the blaze, symbols of their hopes for the new year, counting on their petitions to be heard when the glowing cinders rose on the wind and swirled into the night sky. The castle ghosts, as prominent this night as the soldiers, seemed determined to make up for their absence last year. Tris's dogs ambled about the celebration, snatching up fallen sausages and accepting treats from indulgent party-goers. The mastiff and the wolfhounds trotted up to greet Tris and waited for a pat on the head and a treat.