Alos laughed and clapped his hands. "I know that one, Egil, m'lad, and a right bawdy tale it be."
Arin looked askance at Egil. He cleared his throat. "A sailor's song, love."
But the bard took up the "Lay of Jaangor," the horse made of black iron, and all joined in on the chorus, for this song was well-known too.
The third time the iron-collared serving maid brought three ales and a mug of honeyed, spiced tea to their table, Egil said, "You seem to have a good crowd tonight. Is it always this way?"
"Oh, no, sir. The festival it is."
"Festival?"
"Declared by Queen Gudrun all month to last. At a good time you have come."
"What does she celebrate?" asked Aiko.
The girl gasped as if taken aback, but they could not discern whether she was surprised by the question itself or by the fact that it had been asked by the yellow warrior woman. "Why she celebrates, milady, no one knows; as a complete surprise it came. Elwydd, enough it is that she does." With that, the serving girl scurried away.
Alos looked longingly at the mugs of ale and muttered when Aiko slid the tea his way, but what he said went unheard in the general babble.
They slept soundly that darktide, the only disturbances being 'round mid of night when Alos tried to slip past Aiko, the golden warrior meditating on her tatami before the latch-locked door. That and Egil's ill dreams.
The next day amid a scattering of visitors they walked up toward a citadel to have a look at the fortress. As they strolled through the city and toward the hill, they could see that bastion walls ran all the way 'round the crown of the tor, atop which stood an ornate castle of white stone, with turrets and towers jutting toward the sky, all set in manicured grounds. Topiary and hedges and gardens graced the enclosed estate, and here and there were scattered outbuildings, their purposes untold. All this they took in as they walked up the hill, though when they arrived at the base of the ramparts, all beyond was hidden.
The walls themselves were thirty feet high and made of granite blocks-huge, shaped, and grey. Crenellations capped the stonework, and warders bearing crossbows patrolled above. The main entrance was a wide archway with a twisting passage running under the barrier, and the leaves of the great iron outer gates stood open, the portal flanked by guards. Inside the tunnel a massive portcullis was grounded, and beyond the bars the corridor turned sharply, the route designed to slow invaders and prevent passage of great siege engines. No light shone through from beyond, and so they surmised that at the far end stood a pair of inner gates, closed. In the tunnel, machicolations gaped overhead-murder holes through which to rain destruction down upon an invading foe-and arrow slits lined the walls.
Both Egil and Aiko scrutinized these ramparts with a practiced eye, and Arin murmured, " 'Tis well warded."
Egil nodded. "Even so, love, at night a small band could slip over these walls undetected, given the spacing of the sentries."
"I would rather go in through the gate," she replied.
Alos blinked his good eye and nodded toward the portcullis. "Eh, the way is shut and it doesn't seem as if anyone's being admitted."
"It cannot always be closed," said Aiko, "for even a queen must eat."
"Stay here a moment," said Egil, "I'll see what I can learn."
They waited as Egil stepped up the roadway to one of the warders at the portcullis and engaged him in conversation. After a while, Egil turned and came back. "Only those with specific business are permitted in."
Alos frowned. "Specific business?"
"Aye," replied Egil. "Messengers, diplomats, invited guests, visiting nobles, queen's merchants, and the like."
"Oh my," said Arin, crestfallen. "And we have no recognized need."
Pondering, they turned and began the trek back toward the city.
"Perhaps we could pose as visiting nobles," said Alos, wiping his nose on a sodden handkerchief and then smiling a brown-stained, snag-toothed grin.
Aiko looked at the scraggly oldster and growled, but Arin said, "Nay, Alos. Too many townsfolk noted the manner of our arrival-coming as we did in a small sloop. Too, they know the quarters we took."
Alos shrugged. "So?"
Egil laughed. "What the Dara means, my friend, is that both our transport and lodging are well beneath the station of visiting royalty. Had we been of the nobility, we would have come in a great ship, been escorted by a retinue, and likely would have gone straight to the castle rather than taking quarters in a modest inn. But had we needed to stay atown, as nobles we would have selected the very best lodgings Koniginstadt has to offer."
"Oh," said Alos. "Then what about merchants? Mayhap we can drive a wine wagon onto the grounds."
"Ha!" barked Aiko. "If you were put aboard a wine wagon, old man, the kegs would be empty ere we got to the gate."
Alos stuck out his chin. "Oh, you think so?"
Aiko looked at him and shook her head in resignation and said, "Yopparai."
"Tispe," snarled Alos.
Arin held up a hand. "Enough!" she commanded. "If we are to succeed, we need a way in. Preferably by invitation."
Alos glared at Aiko, then looked at Arin. "I say again, why not as merchants?"
Arin shook her head. "Not just any merchant can go in. Each must bear the seal of the queen. Besides, I do not think we can pose as merchants; we are too…"
"Too uncommon," supplied Egil. "Just look at us, Alos-an Elf, a golden warrior woman, a scar-faced one-eyed raider and a-"
"A yopparai," interjected Aiko.
Egil shook his head. "No, Aiko. Not a yopparai, whatever that is"-he clapped a hand to Alos's shoulder- "but a worthy helmsman, instead."
Alos thrust out his chest and raised his chin and arched an eyebrow at Aiko… but said nothing as they came into the bustle of the city proper: hawkers, merchants, teamsters, patrons, street urchins and the like, all peddling wares, transporting goods, buying, selling, running errands.
Suddenly, Egil laughed and gestured at the hubbub and stir and ado. "I mean, even in disguise we couldn't pass ourselves off as common merchants. We look more like a strangely mixed band of traveling jongleurs. Nay, I say we go over the wall at night like the raiders we need to be."
Arin's eyes flew wide at Egil's words and she grasped his hand and said, "Thou hast hit upon it, chier."
Egil grinned and clenched his fist. "Ah, over the wall at night, eh?"
"Nay," replied Arin. "Through the gate as a band of jongleurs."
"I'll play the tambour," said Alos.
By the time they found their vendors of choice, their plans were nearly set. In a music shop they purchased a tambour and cruik for Alos. Then at a clothier's, they selected tasteful but colorful cloth-all but Aiko, who merely chose a handful of bright ribands-and a bevy of tailors took the measure of Arin and Egil and Alos. Arin paid the proprietor a small gemstone, and he promised to deliver the outfits the very next morning.
"In a suitable trunk, if you please," said Egil.
"Oh, ja," answered the proprietor. "And deliver it where, shall I?"
"Why, the very best hostel in Koniginstadt," replied Egil.
"Ja. The Queen's Crown."
"Indeed," replied Egil, glancing at the others.
Taking their leave of the Silver Helm, they moved all their goods to the Queen's Crown. And as Alos stood on the balcony and cruik-tapped his new arm-held drum, regaining his rhythm and skill, down below in the common room Egil approached the innkeeper and made him an offer.
The next night a colorfully dressed Dylvana sang Elven songs while Alos tapped the tambour, and the crowd sat rapt, weeping and laughing and joining in when asked. And they oohed and aahed as a golden warrior took center stage, bright, flowing ribands tied 'round her arms and legs and waist and brow. And they gasped in awe as she spun and twirled and leapt, her ribands streaming, her gleaming swords flashing in a dazzling dance of death.