"What can you tell us about Shekerishet since we left?" Tris pressed.
"Nothing good, Your Highness." It was Macaria who spoke up. Tris suppressed a smile, knowing that the dark-haired musician caught Carroway's eye. She seemed to be completely unaware of Carroway's attention, even now, when the minstrel watched her with unabashed joy. "I don't know how far news travels, or what you've heard, but it's been terrible."
"Some of the bards have gone missing altogether," Macaria said. "Though whether dead or in hiding, I don't know. I've heard that Lady Eadoin is hiding some of the court musicians, the ones Jared particularly disliked. Eadoin's brother's family was killed for harboring fugitives. We managed to keep out of Jared's sights, but I've heard tell of minstrels who have been hanged for singing tales about King Bricen, or telling a story that raised Jared's ire. In the city, the king's guards are always prowling around, looking for someone to make an example of. They've beaten men in the street for telling jokes about the king, and dragged others out in the middle of the night for one 'crime' or another. No one ever sees the poor blokes again."
"How is it you're here?" Carroway asked, and Tris noted that Carroway never took his eyes off Macaria as he spoke. She didn't seem to notice.
"We left the city during the winter," Paiva said. "One step ahead of the guards. Since then, we've made what living we could singing for our keep in taverns, playing for our supper at the baker's and butcher's, and begging, if you want to know the truth of it." She sighed. "But there's been talk all Spring that something would be afoot at the Hawthorn Moon, and so we thought that with the crowds and all, we'd chance going back." Paiva grinned, and elbowed Carroway good-naturedly. "Looks like our pretty bird here has landed himself smack in the middle of a revolution!"
"You don't know the half of it!" Carroway said. "But if you're game, and you're tired of Jared on the throne, there's a part you could play."
"We're in," Helki said. "Anything to be rid of that bloody tyrant!"
The group huddled around the table. "While Tris and the others do what they need to do," Carroway said, "I thought that perhaps Carina and I—with your help—could stir up a little riot or two in the city. There's another friend of ours, a hedge witch named Alyzza, who's headed this way as well. What do you think—can we work up a mob?"
Macaria grinned wickedly. "Like that's a hard thing, with all the ale that'll be flowing?" The other bards laughed. '"Tis the Lady's truth—the only ones getting rich from Jared's rule are the barley growers and the rum smugglers, since any that haven't left the country drink to drown their sorrows."
"Out here in the country, the songs I get the most requests for are the ones they'll hang you for in the city—the stories of King Bricen's battles, and of King Hotten's victory, and about the sorceress Bava K'aa," said Helki. "I dare say that might get a crowd going."
Paiva snorted. "I can do you one better than that. Remember the songs we heard up in Ghorbal, the ballads about the maidens taken by the king's men, and the empty village with its ghosts? Had the biggest men in the room dabbing their eyes as they swilled their ale. I wager we could write a few more like that, to remind them what's been stolen from them and get them in an ugly mood." The girl's lip curled into a devious smile. "I'll get to work on it."
Helki looked at Tris. "My prince, you've got to be careful. King Jared's sorcerer is a demon. He's grown strong on blood these many months, like a big red spider. Even if you can take Shekerishet, how will you stop Arontala?"
"He's a Summoner, he is," said Toby. Tris and the others looked up to see the innkeeper's son, who had been watching wide-eyed from near the fireplace. "Saw it myself, I did. Talked to the ghost that was busting up the place, and made him plain for all to see. Had a conversation with him, he did. Got robbed, poor bloke, and so I took word to his family the next day, to help him to his rest. He's a Summoner, by the Lady, he is!"
"Really?" Macaria asked.
"Do you remember the ballad we used to sing, about the ghosts of the Ruune Videya?" Carroway asked.
Macaria gasped. "There were wild stories that the forest is no longer haunted. You mean they're true? How?"
"You wouldn't really want to know," Vahanian said from his post near the door. "Trust me on that."
"Tris did it—we were there. And that was before Tris trained with the Sisterhood," Carroway added. "He can handle Arontala."
"My prince," Helki said. "We're honored to help with your return. We'll do as Carroway bids, and help you raise your diversion. I'd rather die fighting than spend the rest of my life running away."
Macaria and Paiva murmured their agreement.
"You may help to win the night," Tris said with a tired smile. "Carroway taught me a long time ago never to underestimate a bard!"
"I don't mean to spoil the reunion," Kiara said, nudging Tris, "but it'll be daylight soon, and I think we might ride better with a little rest."
"By your leave, my prince, we'll keep watch in the outer room," Helki offered. With Tris's nod, the minstrels took their leave.
"I'll go with them," Carroway said, standing. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
Tris looked at the others after the bards were gone. "Every time I hear us say aloud what we intend to do, it sounds too far-fetched to be possible. The damndest thing is, I haven't come up with a better idea."
"That's what makes it brilliant," Kiara said. She found a chair with a back and drew it up near the fireplace, where the banked embers made a warm red heap in the center. "No one else will think we're crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that."
"I really wish you wouldn't put it quite that way," Vahanian objected. He gladly gave up his post for Gabriel to stand watch, and stretched out on one of the empty tables with his cloak over him. Carina and Tris found tables or benches of their own, and drew up close to the hearth.
"I've found that the Lady blesses the most unlikely of heroes," Gabriel observed from near the door. "Let's hope that Her blessing is on equally unlikely tactics."
Tris echoed that hope as he drifted off to sleep, resolutely determined to enjoy a last night of warmth and safety before they reached the outskirts of the palace city.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BY mid-morning, Tris and his friends left the Sparrow's Roost, with the innkeeper's pledge of secrecy and saddlebags full of wine and provisions. Helki and the minstrels promised to meet up with Carroway and Carina by the fourth bell on the night of the Hawthorn Moon in the Bristle Boar Inn, a favorite with local musicians. They set out, blending with the festival crowd, heading for Shekerishet. The rain was over, and the early summer days warmed considerably as the skies cleared. To avoid being conspicuous, Tris and the others split up the party as they rode. Tris and Carroway rode together ahead of the others. Kiara and Carina rode behind. Kiara bound up her long hair and secured it beneath a cap. She wore a man's tunic and pants that hid her figure well and made it unremarkable for her to carry a sword. Vahanian rode rear guard, on alert for trouble. They stuck to the back roads as much as they could. There were more travelers on the road than they had seen in other parts of Margolan, but not the crush of people Tris had expected so near the city just before a major festival.
Trouble found them a day's ride outside the palace city. "Look there," Carroway noted under his breath as they rode, and Tris froze in his saddle. Six Margolan guardsmen rode toward them in the livery of the king, boisterously taking up more than their half of the road and crowding other travelers into the ditch. Tris struggled to relax as the guardsmen rode closer, dropping his head and turning his face to the side as the soldiers passed without a second glance.