Now, the streets were sparsely populated. Although Tris and the others stayed away from the heart of the city, the outskirts were bad enough. Residents avoided eye contact, and seemed to skitter for shelter like bugs in bright light. Guards roamed the streets in groups of twos and threes, some with snarling dogs on chains. Those without dogs carried quarterstaffs, bouncing them against their hands with casual malice. In less than a year the city's vibrant spirit had disappeared, and the people on the streets looked hard-worn, dressed in muted colors as if they feared to draw attention to themselves. Shops were boarded up. "Traitor to the crown" was scrawled on the door to one pillaged shop. In the green along the edge of town, where musicians once played and caravan tents used to flutter stood a huge gibbet. Ten fresh bodies still hung from their nooses, twisting in the summer breeze. Tris had to close his eyes, remembering the dark sending at the citadel. Hanging from posts along the green were other bodies, tarred and encased in a form-fitting wire cage to keep the vultures away. It was clear that in King Jared's Margolan, fear reigned with as strong a hand as the king.
Only a day remained before the Hawthorn Moon. Tris knew there would be no second chances. He brooded over strategy, considering every scenario. Kiara seemed to sense Tris's mood, riding alongside him in silence. She neither pressed him for conversation, nor avoided it when he sought her out as a respite from his own dark thoughts. She gave no hint to her own fears. Jae was restless, flying on ahead of them then doubling back, as if they could not travel quickly enough to suit the little gyregon. Carroway juggled obsessively any time they were not riding. Carina and Vahanian resumed their verbal sparring. Of them all, only Gabriel did not appear concerned.
"We shouldn't go further tonight," Gabriel announced. The roads had grown increasingly familiar. Tris recognized the rutted highway as the same route along which they had fled nearly a year ago.
"I can't wait to see today's accommodations," Carroway murmured under his breath.
"Our lodging is just around the corner," Gabriel said, nudging his horse onward. Gabriel was the first to clear the bend. When the others joined him, they reined in their horses to stare at the tumbledown building.
"It's the same bloody ghost inn we started at," Carroway said.
The burned-out remains of the Lamb's Head Inn hulked in the shadows. But unlike the night of their escape it now appeared to be no more than it was, the ruined shell of an old tavern, unfit for even beggars.
"My liege," a man's voice called in a hoarse whisper from the shadows of the ruins. From the shadows stepped Comar Hassad, the swordsman's ghost who had led them away from the city on the night of Jared's coup.
"Hello, old friend," Tris said, expending the small bit of power necessary to make the ghost visible to the others.
"We've been awaiting your return, my liege," Hassad's ghost said, bowing. "Much evil has been done."
"I know."
"Follow me," Hassad said, beckoning them to lead their horses to the back of the ruined inn. There, enough of a stable remained to both hide and shelter the horses. When the horses were tended, Hassad showed them to an opening in the inn's foundation that led down into the cellars. Tris longed in vain for a fire, but they ate a cold supper from the supply of dried meats and fruits, fresh cheese and wine that Lars had provided for their journey. Gabriel took his leave, returning a few can-dlemarks later with a satisfied smile, his pallor lessened.
"The spirits will watch over you," Hassad said. Other ghosts appeared from the mist to join him, standing silent and indistinct in the shadows. "The palace ghosts are still banished from Shekerishet," the slain soldier cautioned. "They've grown angry and impatient for vengeance. I don't know if even so strong a mage as yourself, my liege, can control their fury once Arontala's spell is broken."
Tris could feel the ghosts that swirled unseen around them. They were familiar, ghosts he had known since childhood, the ghosts of Shekerishet. This time the spirits did not come to him seeking intercession. These were the ghosts of his ancestors, of loyal family retainers, and of oath-bound guards who had died long ago in the line of duty. The ghosts came to him offering their support and condolences. If he was able to break the spell that banished the ghosts from the palace, Tris knew they would swarm back on their own accord to seek vengeance against Jared and Arontala. If so, they might help to turn the odds. Just knowing that the spirits supported his quest and pledged their fealty was enough to lift his mood from the fears and nightmares that had troubled his sleep.
"I'll stand guard," Gabriel said.
"I'll leave you now," Hassad said, his form growing less distinct. "The castle ghosts are watching over you. You'll be safe tonight." In the blink of an eye, the spirit was gone.
"Somehow, knowing that many ghosts are hovering over me just doesn't make me feel any better," Vahanian muttered as they picked their way through the littered cellar. Gabriel took up a post near the entrance, just beyond where the moonlight turned to shadow.
"How can it still be this cold in Margolan and it's nearly the Hawthorn Moon?" Carina muttered, wrapping her cloak around her. "I thought only Isencroft was cold this late in the year."
"Let's go over things again," Kiara suggested. "Having a plan makes me feel better." Tris conjured faint hand fire in the windowless basement, enough for them to see each other's faces.
Carroway leaned back against one of the thick foundation timbers and took a bite of his dried meat before he replied. "All right. Once we get some rest, Carina and I leave for the city, using the festival crowd for cover. I don't think we'll have any trouble finding help from the hedge witches. We'll meet up with Helki and the others, and see who they've recruited. That gives us most of the day to look for Alyzza and get the crowd going. We'll be in position before you head for Shekerishet."
"Once we're in the city, we raise as many diversions as we can," Carina chimed in. "If we do our job, the city garrison will be so busy they won't have time to worry about what's going on up at the castle."
"While we drop in on them from above." Tris double-checked the climbing ropes they had brought with them and Vahanian made a final inspection of their cuirasses. Kiara honed their weapons. Vahanian carefully counted the arrows for his crossbow, adjusted the bow's string, and assured himself that each arrow was sharp and straight.
"Let's hope they're not watching the moon when we scale the cliffs," Kiara added edgily.
"Gabriel and Jae can help with a diversion there," Tris replied. "Assuming Arontala doesn't sense me coming before we set foot inside the castle."
Kiara stopped what she was doing to rummage in her pack. She withdrew the spelled cloak and offered it to Tris.
"Take this," she said. "Maybe it will hide your magic just long enough to slip by Arontala."
When they were certain that their preparations were complete, they settled down to rest. Carroway stretched out on a board that gave him some protection from the damp dirt of the cellar floor. Vahanian offered to share a stone slab and his cloak with Carina. Kiara slipped close to Tris on a ruined door that kept them off the hard ground, nestling in his cloak while Jae slept at her feet.
Before long, Tris could hear the measured breathing that told him his companions were soundly asleep.
Gabriel left them at dawn for the deeper reaches of the cellar. When Tris was certain he would not wake Kiara he slipped away, covering her carefully with his cloak. He walked to the wall, where a chink in the foundation permitted the sun to send a weak shaft of light into the basement.
You have done well, Tris, a voice sounded in his mind. Tris recognized his grandmother's voice and wheeled. In the shadows of the cellar he could see the robed woman's outline, one hand upraised in greeting.