“Crapaud, watch over the house,” commanded Hradian.
Crapaud emitted a croak, and in that same moment the thing escaped. But as it darted for the water-
Without waiting to see if the thing was swallowed or not, Hradian mounted her twiggy broom and flew away, the trim and danglers from her dress flowing out behind her like ragged shadows melting away.
As soon as she was above the drifting miasma of the swamp, Hradian took a quick glance at the morning sun. “Must hurry, must hurry,” she muttered, and she goaded her besom to greater speed. “They will be well started by the time I arrive. A simple glamour will do at first, but then. .” With the wind of her passage whipping through her black hair, Hradian broke into laughter as she sped toward her destination.
. .
Twilight bound after twilight bound she crossed, and the sun rose up the sky. And in the marks after the sun passed through the zenith, Hradian cast her first glamour and then crossed another bound. In the forest below were any observing, unless they had Fey sight, they would see nought but a crow winging starwise. And even had they Fey sight, still they might see nought but a tremulous aura about the dark bird.
. .
A candlemark or so and a twilight bound later, in midafternoon the crow spiralled down to come to rest in a leafy forest.
Moments later, with a second glamour cast, a small girl, bearing a bouquet of wildflowers, stepped out from the trees and onto the green grassy field.
Faire
As Emile shoveled eggs onto his plate to go with the rashers and toast and jam, he asked, “Valeray, is there anyone else, other than this Hradian witch, and perhaps her master Orbane, who might wish to see you and your get dead?” Valeray shrugged. “None I can think of.” Then he looked at Saissa and grinned. “Oh, there are some lords and ladies and mayors and such who might yet hold a grudge against me for deeds long past when I was yet a thief. But I would think those resentments not enough to send someone or something spying, especially someone or something unseen.”
They sat outside on a balcony overlooking the tournament field, with its many tents where jongleurs and merchants and participants and fest-goers had come to entertain, to sell their wares, to enter the contests, or to otherwise engage in the faire.
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.
