Smoke from fires rose in the morning air as those gathered broke their own fasts, or cooked specialties to sell to others-
with hogs on spits and slabs of ribs and sides of beef roasting; with various fish and fowl turning and frying as well; with pots of beans and meats and soups dangling above the fires and bubbling; and breads and sweets and other such fare baking-all of them wafting their aromas across the way to entice the milling throng. A minstrel’s voice rose in distant song accompanied by a lute, and a piccolo ran a rising scale and then fell silent.
Midst the tents lay a large open arena with tiers of seats on one side for the king and his invited guests. Opposite the tiers and on a gentle rise a fence set the boundary for others to gather and watch and cheer for their favorites. In between lay the tourney field, where most of the events would be held: archery, dueling, the caber toss, the hammer throw, the discus, the foot races, and others. On the field as well stood the lists, where knights mounted on chargers would run-shields up, lances couched-in attempts to unseat one another.
And overlooking it all from their distant high terrace, King Valeray, Queen Saissa, Sieur Emile, and Lady Simone sat at breakfast.
“What about the Changelings?” asked Simone. “Because Roel slew their lord, and Celeste killed the witch, and they freed Laurent and Blaise and rescued Avelaine, wouldn’t the Changelings seek revenge?”
“Perhaps,” replied Valeray. “Mayhap some of them can make themselves invisible or change into something so small as to be overlooked-a fly, a flea, a gnat, or some such. But it would take more than one Changeling-in fact at least five altogether; one for each manor, that is-for at times some of these occurrences happen leagues upon leagues apart within but moments of one another.” He turned to Saissa. “Isn’t that correct, my dear?”
“Oui. Certainly within a candlemark of one another, or so my daughters and daughters-in-law and I do say.” Emile frowned. “And you know this how. .?”
“We fly the messenger falcons, and in the message we usually note when the feeling of malignancy occurred. At times it is ’round the mid of night. At other times it is just after dusk.
And at still other times it is in the moments ere dawn. Seldom does it occur when the sun is up. But even were these sensings to happen a candlemark or so apart, there is not enough time for a single spy to get from one manor to another. Perhaps, as Valeray says, if several Changelings worked in concert, we would all sense the malignancy nigh the same moment, yet I believe instead it is Hradian-and only Hradian-using some sort of magic to spy on us, for her motives are strongest.” Emile nodded and took another bite of jam-slathered toast.
“Well then, let us suppose it is Hradian,” said Simone, “is there ought we or anyone can do to counteract it?” Valeray shook his head. “For the moment, non. Yet mayhap one of magekind can suggest a way. Even so, the nearest mage of worth is days distant; it would take time to fetch him. But even then, if no occurrence happens in his presence, I think he would be as puzzled as are we.”
“But he might have a suggestion,” said Simone.
“Oui, he might,” replied Saissa. “Yet I believe that what we said yestereve still holds: after Rhensibe was slain, the Fates warned us that the remaining acolytes would seek revenge, and they certainly did so. And now there is but one acolyte left.
And so there seems to be nought for it but to do as the Fates have advised: stand ready, and be on guard.”
“On guard against what?” asked Avelaine, as she and Liaze and Celeste swept onto the balcony.
Valeray and Emile got to their feet, and Valeray said, “What else, my dear, but Hradian?”
“Oh, poo!” said Avelaine, making a moue. “Can’t we forget about the witch on this day?” She cast a wide gesture toward the arena. “I mean, it’s tourney day, a time for joy and not brooding.” She looked about the balcony and added, “And where are the bright chevaliers?”
“In the armory,” said Borel, as he and Alain stepped onto the terrace, Michelle on Borel’s arm, Camille on Alain’s.
“They choose their weaponry,” said Alain. He gave Saissa a kiss on the cheek, and then took up a plate for himself.
“You do not join them?” asked Emile.
“Non, Sieur Emile,” said Alain. “I’m afraid the Bear would take offense at someone thrusting a weapon at me.”
“The Bear?”
Alain smiled. “I’ll explain later.”
Emile then swung his gaze toward Borel, and the prince said,
“Likewise my Wolves,” as if that told all.
“Our combat this day will be in archery,” said Alain.
“Do not forget echecs,” said Camille.
“Oh, indeed, in echecs too,” said Borel.
“And what about you, Sieur Emile?” asked Celeste. “You do not joust this day?”
Emile sighed and looked at Simone. “Their mother will not let me take a run at my own sons nor lift a weapon ’gainst them. But I, too, will take up bow and arrow and stand on the field and compete.”
“And you, Papa?” asked Michelle.
Valeray shook his head. “No warrior am I. Ah, but if you have a lock to pick. .”
The balcony rang with laughter.
. .
After breaking fast, they all strolled toward the arena, passing jesters and jugglers, minstrels and stilt-walkers, bards and fortune-tellers, hawkers and merchants purveying their wares.
Booths of food-sellers tried to tempt them to partake of their fare, and various hucksters called out for good gentlemen and ladies to try their games: axe throwing, mad archery, toss the ball, and other such diversions.
“Why do they call it ‘mad archery’?” asked Simone, as they strolled by the bow-and-arrow booth.
“Ah. The arrows are bent and curved and crooked and the fletching twisted,” said Celeste. “The fun comes in watching their flight toward the many targets. Trying to strike the central bull’s eye and win a prize is quite challenging.”
“Are none of the shafts straight?” asked Emile.
“Straight as a sand viper,” said Borel, laughing.
On they went, pausing a moment before the puppet theater, where the crowd laughed as one of the puppets-a female with a skillet-beat upon a poor, hapless, masked burglar, driving him howling around the tiny stage. As the playlet ended, Borel dropped a coin or two into the passing hat. Then he and the family moved on.
And as they threaded among the throng, the citizens bowed and curtseyed in deference to the royalty, and the royalty acknowledged such with smiles and nods and hand gestures.
At last they reached the arena, and entered the central box.
Horns sounded and Valeray and Saissa took the thrones, while the others took seats alongside or down a tier or two before the royal couple. Across the field and beyond a stout fence running the width of the rise, spectators bowed and curtseyed. When the king and queen were seated and the horns sounded again, the citizenry straightened and waited in anticipation.
A herald rode to the ground before the king’s box and saluted and said, “My lord?”
And Valeray replied, “Let the games begin.” The herald blew a blast on his trump, and the crowd cheered.
. .
After the caber toss-won by a giant of a man, a crofter from the fields in the Summerwood-the herald rode out and about the floor of the arena and cried out, “Mon Roi, ma Reine, et Membres de la Famille Royale, et Sieurs, Mesdames, et Hommes et Femmes et Enfants, I warn you the hammer throw can be quite dangerous, with an errant toss occasionally known to maim or kill an onlooker. So be prepared to flee should one come your way.”
Simone turned to Avelaine. “Is that true? Have people been maimed, even killed?”
“Oh, Maman, worry not, for the hammer throwers are very good.”