"Here, you greedy things!" Carroway laughed, tossing each a cracker from his pockets. Both dogs snapped up the treats in mid-air, then looked at their master for more.

Tris smiled. "Go beg," he said, patting the dogs affectionately. "When you're too full to move and your bellies hurt, don't look for sympathy!" The dogs wagged their tails and bounded off through the crowd.

Across the crowded courtyard was a young girl dressed in white. Tris met the girl's amber eyes and knew that she was the Childe.

Even with my blessing, your path is not certain. Sorrow and hardship lie on your journey. Guard well your soul.

Tris blinked and the girl was gone.

"Tris? Tris!" Carroway shook Tris by the arm. "Don't tell me. I'll sleep better if I don't know. But you saw Her again, didn't you. The Lady. Like the night of the coup."

"I don't think this time, good luck alone is going to be enough."

CHAPTER EIGHT

During most days at Sheketishet, the common room was empty. Between it and the kitchen was a smaller butler's pantry where Carroway and his musicians rehearsed. The room stayed warm due to the large kitchen fireplaces, and it was easy for the musicians to grab a pot of tea or a few hunks of bread and cheese during long rehearsals.

The smells of a rich venison stew and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen as Carroway struggled to tune an obstinate string on his lute.

"Need a fresh ear for that?" Macaria tossed her dark fringe out of her eyes as she slipped the lyre from over her shoulder and threw her cloak onto a chair.

"I'd love it."

Macaria took the lute. She hummed and plucked at the strings, concentrating. The tuning knobs began to turn, ever-so-slightly, on their own, until the pitch of the vibrating string matched Macaria's voice. With a grin, she handed it back.

"No matter how many times I see you do that, I never get over being jealous."

"Well, it's not much to be jealous of," Macaria cheeks reddened.'"It's the only magic I have."

Carroway smiled and met her eyes. "I wouldn't say that."

"As usual, apologies for being late," said Helki. His blond hair, mussed by the Fall winds, fell in a tangle around his face. He dropped his burdens in a pile: a heavy cloak, a pouch of music, a wineskin, and the cases for his flute and dulcimer. With a grin, he reached into the kitchen and availed himself of a biscuit from the nearby counter, deftly missing a good-natured swat by the cook. His mouth stuffed with biscuit, he plunked down in a chair and unwrapped his dulcimer from the layers of cloth that protected it from the cold.

Macaria rolled her eyes and reached over to take the dulcimer. "Give me that. You'll break a string." The instrument glowed a bright blue for a moment, and then she handed the instrument back to Helki.

"Thanks. I never tune well when I'm in a hurry."

"What's the rush?" Carroway set his lute aside as he rummaged through his pack.

"Couldn't help it. I was making fairly good time, actually, until I stopped to pick up a meat pie on the way here. I caught a snatch of a conversation, and it's got me worried."

Helki had an excellent sense for intrigue, as good perhaps.even as Carroway's own. "So... what did you hear?"

"I didn't know either of the two by name, although I've seen them at court. One of the men was dark-featured, like he might be from the border near Nargi. Had an outlands accent, too. The other one had red hair and looked like a Borderlander. Anyhow, the dark man wasn't comfortable at all with the vayash moru who've been at court lately."

Carroway frowned. "There've always been vayash moru in Margolan's court. That's not new."

"But there are more now. They come often. And they don't just stay toward the back anymore. Used some pretty ugly language. Blood-suckers, child-eaters, that kind of thing."

"We get the picture," Carroway said with distaste.

"Well, his companion, the redhead, said that it was just more of the other strange goings on since we got a mage for a king. The redhead seemed even more steamed up about getting a queen from Isencroft. Said we didn't need the burden of taking on Isencroft's troubles when we were hard-pressed to feed our own people."

"And whose fault is that?" Macaria chimed in. "No one but Jared's."

Helki raised his hands in truce. "Don't shoot the messenger! I'm just reporting, not taking sides."

"Go on," Carroway said. Macaria scowled and folded her arms.

"The redhead went on to say that if we weren't careful, next we'd be getting Isencroft's Oracles and the. rest of their Chenne-worshippers. He was going on about the Sisterhood, how with a Summoner on the throne they'd have their 'shadowy claws' on Margolan. The dark man said it was almost enough to make him think about heading for Principality. But the redhead said, 'It isn't settled yet. Don't count us out.'"

Carroway frowned. "I don't like the way that sounds."

"Neither did I. But just then, they got up and left."

"What do you think it means?" Macaria asked.

Carroway hesitated. "I doubt that we've caught up with everyone who benefited when Jared was in power. Jared couldn't have done as much damage as he did without help."

"What about something as simple as jealousy?" Helki ventured. "I mean, ambitious fathers like to marry their daughters as high as they can. Maybe a couple of them have their noses out of joint because a foreign queen means no royal in-law for them, and no clout."

"What worries me the most is the idea that 'it' isn't settled yet," Carroway said. "What do they mean by 'it'? Do they mean Tris being king, or the marriage to Kiara, or accepting Kiara as queen?"

"And do they mean that it just hasn't happened yet and sometimes life changes plans, or did they have something more hands-on in mind?" Macaria added.

"You're playing for Eadoin tonight, Carroway," said Helki. "You're clever enough to find out what she knows."

Carroway brushed back an errant lock of jet-black hair. "Don't underestimate her. No one ever gets free information out of Lady Eadoin."

Macaria gave him a wicked smile. "We expect you to come back with the story—even if you have to sacrifice your body to her advances."

It was Carroway's turn to roll his eyes. "Really, Lady Eadoin has always been the soul of propriety. You're going to start talk."

"There's been talk about you and the court ladies for years, my dear." Macaria dismissed his protest with a wave of her hand. "If even half of it is true, you've been a busy boy."

"I make it a rule never to talk about my patrons," said Carroway, "much, anyhow."

Helki laughed. "You don't have to. They talk. And while you're the most gifted musician in Margolan, those good looks of yours have gotten you some patronesses who weren't just interested in your music."

"And to think, I've been spurning advances like that for years." Macaria clearly enjoyed Carroway's discomfort. "Then again, you had no way of knowing you'd end up court bard. Some of those widowed noblewomen could have provided quite a comfortable home," she teased, placing exaggerated emphasis on the word "comfortable." ' .

"Enough," Carroway said. He did have a reputation. Older women appreciated the presence of a handsome young man, and without family or fortune to rely upon, he had played to the vanity of prospective wealthy patronesses. He'd meant to keep it as harmless flirtation. But he had underestimated one of them. It was an old scandal. Macaria and Helki were too new to court to know the whole story, and Carroway was not inclined to bring it up.

"More to the point," Carroway said, "we've got to keep an eye out for trouble. Tris and Harrtuck have enough to worry about—we might just hear something important."