Emma glanced at Nella appreciatively. She may be young, but she’s no fool.
They sat in the grass near a copse of trees and ate the bread and cheese that Nella had brought from the inn. Danica probed her mind. She found her thoughts flitting from one thing to another, rarely staying on one subject for long. But one image kept coming back to her. A burly young man with dark hair and eyes and a crooked smile.
After an hour on the Granger Road, they met a man and woman driving an ox pulling a cart and stopped to talk.
“Are you coming from Crown City?” Emma asked.
The man looked closely at her and decided she wasn’t a threat. “Aye, and glad to leave it!”
“Is there trouble there?”
“No more than the usual. The Count’s son hanged a woman early this morning.”
“On what charge?”
“There were rumors of the High Priestess hiding out in a convent, so he arrested some of the nuns. When he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he hanged one as an example. He’s a suspicious bastard.”
“Where is the High Priestess?”
“Ach, no one knows. If there is a High Priestess, she’s hidden well. The Count is nervous because it’s been seventeen years since the death of our Astrid. The prophecy says her daughter will return to us this year.”
“Where is her daughter?”
“She’s somewhere in the mist. That’s where she disappeared and that’s how she’ll come back.”
The old woman leaned over the back of the ox and looked around anxiously. “She’ll come. She’ll save us from the madman.”
“Where’re you from?” the old man asked.
“Up in the hills—we don’t get much news,” Emma said.
“You watch yourselves in the city. Don’t talk to folks you don’t know. Can’t trust no one,” the old woman said.
“Safe journey,” Emma said, and they parted company.
A couple hours later as they topped a rise, the city loomed ahead. The castle and the church dominated the town that was surrounded by a tall wall. A few armed soldiers were visible on the parapets. Tents and canopies huddled together a short distance away from the massive gate.
When they came to the gate, they filed in at the end of a line of people wanting to enter. Guards were checking each person and asking questions. Soon it was their turn.
“State your business,” an official asked them.
“We’re silk merchants, come to trade,” Emma said in the common tongue.
“The guard looked at each of them closely. “Let’s have a look.”
Emma, Danica, and Jimmu opened their knapsacks and the guard looked in each and reached inside to feel to the bottom.
“What about her?” he asked, pointing to Nella.
“I’m their servant. Foreigners always have maids. She doesn’t do a lick of work,” Nella said, nodding towards Danica. “She couldn’t boil you a pot of water.” She winked at the guard and smiled coquettishly.
“Izat so?” He seemed impervious to the flattery.
“What’s your job?” He asked Emma.
“I translate for them.”
“How long’re you staying?”
“At least a week, unless we sell everything sooner.”
“Awright, you can pass,” and he waved them in and looked to the person behind them.
“State your business,” they heard him say as they moved through the gate.
“Nella, do you know how to get to the Red Fox Inn?” Emma asked.
“Follow this lane here,” she pointed. “At the crossroads, turn left and then right. It’ll be about a mile. You’ll pass in front of the castle and then you should see the sign for the inn. I’m going to find a friend, and I’ll check in with you later.” She skipped off in the opposite direction, the image of the dark young man in her head.
In fact, they could see the turrets of the castle from where they stood. As they gazed up at the crenellated walls, Danica suddenly moved her left elbow up and sliced her hand sideways, catching a scruffy man in the neck. He collapsed to the street clutching his throat and groaning.
“Thief,” she said quietly to Jimmu and Emma. They stepped around him and walked in the direction Nella had pointed.
As they drew closer to the castle, the narrow streets became more crowded with people of all kinds vending and shopping at the various stalls and markets, dickering over prices, conversing, moving goods in wheelbarrows. Danica put a hand to her nose, affronted with the odors of unwashed bodies, molding thrushes, and animal and human waste. The Count’s guards were visible everywhere, their eyes alert to any suspicious behavior. Children ran around tables laden with fruits, vegetables, meat, and fish. Other tables held cloth and curios of every kind. Some children were playing, chasing others. A few were pick-pockets. A man with a flute entertained a small group gathered under an overhanging shutter.
The crowds pressed around them, and it was slow going until the lane widened into a courtyard at the front of the castle. Moving more quickly, they soon saw the sign hanging above a doorway ahead: a red fox.
“Here we are,” said Emma. A guard stood outside the inn. He watched them as they approached but he didn’t detain them when they stepped across the threshold.
Inside, men and women laughed and talked, and a youth played a concertina. The floor rushes smelled fresh, and they found a clean table tucked in a corner away from the revelers where they would have a little privacy. Soon a plump woman with red cheeks came to their table.
“I’m Muryl the alewife. What’s your pleasure?”
“If it please you, bring us bread and cheese and ale,” Emma said.
The woman smiled and nodded.
“And we’ll need a room for a few nights.”
“I have one room left,” she said. “It’s small, but it’s all I have. We’re celebrating our Autumn Bacchanal tomorrow so we’re filling up fast.”
“Autumn Bacchanal?”
“It brings people from the far-out areas into the city for the festivities. Folks have a chance to stock up on supplies before winter and catch up with friends and family.”
At Emma’s encouraging nod, Meryl continued. “The castle courtyard will be open to vendors and entertainers. It starts in the morning and goes on all day and into the night. There are dances, acrobats, minstrels, and roving amusers of all sorts. It’s a good time.”
“Roving amusers?”
“Some bring trained animals; others perform comedies or dramas or pantomimes. There are puppeteers. My favorites are the magic shows.”
“How can we get a table and space in the courtyard? My employers have silk to sell.”
Muryl looked Danica and Jimmu up and down. “I’ll rent you a table. The spaces are up for grabs. First come, first served. There are usually two rows of tables encircling the courtyard, and the castle steward and his men will make sure everything stays orderly.”
“We’ll rent a table and take the room.”
She nodded. “I’ll be back with your food and drink,” and she whisked through the door into the kitchen.
Emma leaned forward and said quietly, “Do you think it’s a good idea to sell our silk at a table? What if we sell out before the Countess has a chance to see it?”
“We’ll put a high price on it. And we won’t display all of it. If the Countess comes by and admires it, we’ll tell her we have more to show her. That way we’ll be sure to get an invitation into the castle,” Jimmu said softly.
“Exactly what are we hoping to discover inside the castle?”
“We need to know the comings and goings of Count Gurdyn and Dumone. Most importantly, we need to find out what Dumone’s weakness is. We’ll never be able to overpower him if we can’t discover where he’s vulnerable.”
“We know he’s unguarded when he turns himself into a firebird,” Danica said.
“Yes, but we can’t depend on him doing that or on us being around when he does. There’s something else, some shortcoming that w
ill be his downfall. I know he’s a powerful Magician, but often with power comes weakness of character. Maybe it’s greed or over-confidence. Maybe he feels invincible. He’s flawed like everyone else.”
Danica felt the truth of Jimmu’s words, and she let her breath out. I’ve been building Dumone up so much in my mind, he’s become a super being. Someone indestructible. He has strengths and weaknesses like everyone else, and I intend to discover just what they are. Since he is an Other, I’ll need to be on my guard.
Just then the alewife brought their food. She had two kinds of cheese, some dark rich bread, small, pickled fish, and sliced apples on the tray, along with three tankards of ale.
“I make the cheese myself. This one is spreadable,” she said, pointing to a soft white mound in a small crock. “You’ll like our ale. It’s the best in Crown City.”
“Thank you. Everything looks delicious, Muryl. Does the Royal Family eat here?” Emma asked innocently.
“Yes, indeed. That’s why we keep such a high standard. Everything is always fresh.” She leaned close in and whispered, “That’s the Count’s nephew, Wolksey, over there.” She pointed to a short, burly young man across the room, sitting at a table with three other men. Wolksey had a girl sitting on his lap and she was laughing at something he said. Her hair curled around a pretty face, and her eyes looked at him from beneath long lashes. She wore a tightly laced surcoat emphasizing large breasts peeking out from a loose kirtle.
“He looks friendly enough. I’ve heard stories about the rest of the family,” Emma said.
“Looks don’t mean nothing. And mind who you tell your stories to. You don’t want them to be heard by the wrong ears.”
Just then there was a shriek from the girl, and she jumped off Wolksey’s lap. He grabbed her wrist and twisted, and she cried out again. The alewife rushed over.
“Now then Master Wolksey, what is it you be wanting from Ansa here?”
Wolksey laughed and released the girl who fled to the kitchen. He reached into a pouch and handed the alewife a coin. “I would like her company for a short while in your back room. She’s feeling feisty today. I like that.”
The alewife looked at the coin. Danica saw a greedy look cross her features. “This is very generous, Master Wolksey. I’ll have her in the back room in five minutes.” She turned and started to walk away, and then she turned back. “Master Wolksey, mind what your uncle…”
“Yes, yes, I know what Count Gurdyn said. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just have a little fun with her.” He smiled at his companions and they laughed, sharing the joke.
“He’s definitely one of the family,” Danica muttered.
Thirty
The small and cramped upstairs room afforded little space for three people. The bed was a wooden frame with ropes stretched from side to side. A straw-filled mattress rested on top, and a couple of old ragged blankets were spread over it. Aside from that, there was a small table with a pitcher of water and a mug. A single window looked over the east side of the castle nearby and a narrow back alley below. Danica looked around distastefully.
“At least it’s fairly clean,” Emma offered.
“After the Bacchanal and people leave for their homes there should be other rooms available, and we can get a bigger one. Until then, this will have to do.” Jimmu set his pack on the table. “Tomorrow early morning we’ll get ourselves set up in the courtyard. I want to make sure we get a good spot where the Countess will be able to see us.”
Danica nodded. “I’m hoping I’ll see the blacksmith and the young girl I saw in Master Stefan’s cards. I know I can trust them, and they may be able to help us.”
Jimmu stood up. “I’m going to find a horse and scout around a bit. You two know what to do.”
“Be careful,” Emma said.
Jimmu walked to the door and turned back to them. “There are enough foreigners around that I shouldn’t stand out, and once I’m away from the castle I’ll be comfortable talking to people in the common tongue. I’ll be back before dark.” He left quietly.
Emma turned to Danica. “I’m going to go out and talk to other vendors and townsfolk and let them know we have fine silk for sale. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to the streets to be invisible and learn what I can. See you later.” The young women left the room and parted company.
Narrow lanes crawled with people in high spirits anticipating the next day’s Bacchanal. Groups of men gathered sharing tobacco, spirits, and stories. Some had started celebrating early and were having a hard time staying upright. Small clusters of women stood together gossiping and laughing. A small boy chased an older girl through the crowds trying to catch the blue sash trailing behind her. Two armed guards rode on horseback through the middle of the street, the horses’ feet clacking on the cobblestones. People separated to avoid being trampled, and as soon as the guards passed, they came together again.
Danica walked slowly with her head down, watchful, and attentive to the bustle around her. She noticed she wasn’t the only foreign-looking person in the mass of people. In fact, people of all colors, shapes, and sizes filled the streets and made it hard to make forward progress. Many plied their trinkets to wealthy-looking passersby. She stepped aside allowing a burly reddish man pushing a wheeled cart to go by. He grunted and nodded to her as he passed. He wore a colorful turban on his head, and his mustache was waxed and groomed to spread underneath full cheeks, curving up to meet bushy sideburns. She was leaning against a wall near an open window of a tavern watching the crowd and prying into minds to discover what she could about where loyalties lay when she caught a few words of a conversation that made her come to attention. Nonchalantly she edged closer to the window. Two men were speaking in low tones from inside.
“I’d like to kick his pompous ass to hell and back.”
The other man grunted. “Maybe you’ll get your chance. There’s a lot of outsiders here for Bacchanal. We can get more support for our cause.”
“The Count has spies everywhere. If you talk to the wrong person, you’ll find yourself arrested and hung. What’s your plan?”
“We’ll meet with everyone tonight in the copse behind the mill and firm up the details—who’s going to do what, where everyone is supposed to be. People are promising to bring others who are sympathizers. Once we get organized, this thing will happen.”
“What time is the meeting?”
“Midnight.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Danica heard their chairs scraping the floor. Soon two men exited the tavern and walked in different directions. She startled when she saw the taller one. He had a hat pulled low on his forehead, but she was certain it was the blacksmith from Master Stefan’s cards.
When Danica returned to the room, the last light of the day was slanting through the window, softly lighting the interior. Her head was throbbing from the strain of all the probing she had done. She found Emma asleep on the bed and no sign of Jimmu. She shook Emma’s shoulder gently. “Emma, wake up.”
Emma stirred and opened her eyes. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Six o’clock maybe?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Have you seen Jimmu?”
“No. He’s not back yet?”
“No.” Danica felt uneasy. Soon it would be dark. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat. Maybe he’ll be back soon, and he can join us. If not, we can bring something back to the room for him to eat later.”
Emma didn’t need further encouragement. She put on her shoes and they descended to the pub below.
It was getting crowded, but they found an empty table. Ansa, the young server they had seen earlier with Wolksey, came up.
“What’s your pleasure this evening?”
“Ale and stew,” Emma said. Then, “I think we saw you earlier when we came in this afternoon.”
“Oh? I don’t remember you.”
“Well, you were busy with the Count’s nephew. Wolkse
y, isn’t it?”
The girl paled. “Yes, that was him. He comes in now and again for ale and a tumble.”
“Be careful of that one,” Emma said sympathetically.
Something in her tone must have engendered trust because Ansa leaned in closer. “He’s a brute and I’d stay clear of him if I could, but he fancies me and he pays Muryl well.”
“Muryl, the alewife?”
“Yes.”
“Does Wolksey hurt you?”
“Not that it shows. He’s careful of that now. He used to before. Once he beat me black and blue and Muryl was fit to be tied. She loses coin if men don’t want me, and who wants a girl with two black eyes?”
“What did she do?”
“She complained to the Count. He likes Muryl. She’s the best cook in Crown City, and she makes his favorite dishes when he comes in. Plus, she hears a lot, especially when men drink too much and their tongues get loose. She’s tipped him off to a few plots.”
“And did the Count stop Wolksey’s beatings?”
“He talked to Wolksey about it, and I haven’t got a beating like that since. But he’s got a hundred ways of being cruel, believe me.”
“Does any of the Count’s family come in here regularly?” Emma surreptitiously slid a coin across the table. The girl’s eyes lit up and she quickly picked it up and hid it in her clothing. Danica probed her mind and found she wasn’t as empty-headed as she had first appeared.
“Rone comes in every day with a few of his friends after sword practice. They’re guards, mostly. Usually around noon.”
“That’s the Count’s son?”
Ansa nodded. “Sometimes he wants a tumble.” She smirked. “Sometimes he can’t get it up. He has the smallest cock I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. Once I laughed and got his fist in my face for it. He’s no better’n Wolksey.”
“Ansa!” the alewife called loudly from the kitchen doorway.
She smiled at them and hurried off.
Danica spoke softly. “We need to be here at noon day after tomorrow, after Bacchanal. I need to get into Rone’s head and see what I can learn. What did you find out today?”
The Acolyte: Magicians of the Beyond Page 19
