left outside, not wanting to chance the stir he'd cause if they brought him in with them. He would sneak in after dark, and take up residence with their horses in the stable, or with them, if they got a room on the ground floor with a window. Taking directions from the gate-guard, they found an inn. It was plain, but clean enough to satisfy both of them, and didn't smell too strongly of bacon and stale beer.
'When's feeding time for the monster?' Tarma asked the innkeeper.
'Today -- if ye get yerselves t' the main gate, ye'll see the procession--'
The procession had the feeling of a macabre carnival. It was headed by the daughter of Lord Havirn, mounted on a white pony, her hands shackled by a thin gold chain. Her face bore a mingling of petulance at having to undergo the ceremony, and peevish pride at being the center of attention. Her white garments and hair all braided with flowers and pearls showed the careful attentions of at least two servants. Those maidservants walked beside her, strewing herbs; behind them came a procession of priests with censors. The air was full of incense smoke battling with the ubiquitous dust.
'What's all that about?' Kethry asked a sunburned farmwoman, nodding at the pony and its sullen rider.
'Show; nothing but show. M'lord likes to pretend it's his daughter up for sacrifice -- but there is the real monster fodder,' she pointed toward a sturdy farm cart, that contained a heavily-bound, scurvy-looking man, whose eyes drooped in spite of his fate. 'They've drugged 'im, poor sot, so's the monster knows it'll get an easy meal. They'll take milady up the hill, with a lot of weepin' and wailin', and they'll give each of the heroes a little gold key that unlocks her chain. But it's the thief they'll be tying to the stake, not her. Reckonn you that if some one of the heroes ever does slay the beast, that the tales will be sayin' he saved her from the stake shackles, 'stead of that poor bastard?'
'Probably.'
'Pity they haven't tried to feed her to the beast -- it'd probably die of indigestion, she's that spoiled.'
They watched the procession pass with a jaundiced eye, then retired to their inn.
'I think, all things considered,' Tarma said after some thought, as they sat together at a small table in the comfort and quiet of their room at the inn. 'That the best time to get at the thing is at the weekly feeding. But after it's eaten, not before.'
'Lady knows I'd hate being part of that disgusting parade, but you're right. And while it's in the open -- well, magics may bounce off its hide, but there are still things I could do to the area around it. Open up a pit under it, maybe.'
'We'd have to--' Tarma was interrupted by wild cheering. When peering out of their window brought no enlightenment, they descended to the street.
The streets were full of wildly rejoicing people, who caught up the two strangers, pressing food and drink on them. There was too much noise for them to ask questions, much less hear the answers.
An increase in the cheers signaled the arrival of the possible answer -- and by craning their necks, the two saw the clue to the puzzle ride by, carried on the shoulders of six merchants. It was one of the would -- be heroes they'd seen going out with the procession; he was blood-covered, battered, and bruised, but on the whole, in very good shape. Behind him came the cart that had held the thief -- now it held the head of something that must have been remarkably ugly and exceedingly large in life. The head just barely fit into the cart.
The crowd carried him to the same inn where the two women were staying, and deposited him inside. Tarma seized Kethry's elbow and gestured toward the stableyard; she nodded, and they wriggled their way through the mob to the deserted court.
'Well! Talk about a wasted trip!' Tarma wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.
'I hate to admit it--' Kethry was dearly chagrined.
'So Need's stopped nagging you?'
Kethry nodded.
'Figures. Look at it this way -- what good would Lord Havirn's daughter or his lands have done us?'
'We could have used the lands, I guess--' Tarma's snort cut Kethry's words off. 'Ah, I suppose it's just as well. I'm not all that unhappy about not having to face that beast down. We've paid for the room, we might as well stay the night.'
'The carnival they're building up ought to be worth the stay. Good thing Warrl can take care of himself -- I doubt he'll be able to sneak past that mob.'
