front of the castle, and a slice of the great common green beyond. On that sward, where woolbeasts grazed most of the year, the annual fair had been for the past day or so taking shape.
'I should have ordered him some better food, perhaps. Some gruel at least, maybe a little meat.' Sir Andrew was obviously musing aloud about his prisoner, but his distracted tone made it equally obvious that his thoughts were ready to stray elsewhere. 'Crops were so poor this year, all round the edge of the Swamp, that I didn't know if we'd have much of a fair at all. But there it is. It appears to be turning out all right.'
Dame Yoldi joined him at the window, though it was so narrow that two people had trouble looking out at once. 'Your granaries have taken a lot of the shock out of poor years, ever since you built them. If only we don't have two bad years in a row.'
'That could be disastrous, yes. Is that what you wanted to see me about? Another village delegation? Is it crops, dragons, or both?'
'It's a delegation. But not from any of the villages this time.'
Sir Andrew turned from the window. 'What then?'
'They've come from the Duke, and I've already cast a sortilege, and the omens are not particularly good for you today. I thought you'd like to know that before you meet these people.'
'And meet them I must, I suppose. Yoldi, in matters of magic, as in so much else, your efforts are constantly appreciated.' Sir Andrew leaned toward his enchantress and kissed her gently on the forehead. 'All right, I am warned.'
He moved to the ascending stair, and again led the way up. He had rounded the next turn before he turned his head back to ask: 'What do they say they want?'
'They don't. They refuse to discuss their business with anyone else before they've seen you.'
'And they exhibit damned bad manners, I suppose, as usual.'
'Andrew?'
On his way up, the knight paused. 'Yes?'
'Last night that vision of swords came to me again. Stacked in a pyramid like soldiers' spears in the guardroom, points up. I don't know what it means yet. But as I said, today's omens are not good.'
'All right.' When the stair had brought him to a higher window, Sir Andrew paused again, to catch his breath and to look out once more and with a better view over the hectares of fairground that had sprung up before his castle almost as if by magic. Jumbled together were neat pavilions, cheap makeshift shelters, professional entertainers' tents of divers colors, all set up already or still in the process of erection. The present good weather, after some days of rain, was bringing out a bigger crowd than usual, mostly people from the nearby villages and towns. The lowering sun shone upon banners and signs advertising merchants of many kinds and of all degrees of honesty, all of them getting ready to do business now or already engaged in it. Sir Andrew's towers dominated a crossroad of highways leading to four important towns, and a considerable population was tributary to him. On fine evenings, such as this promised to be, the fair would likely run on by torchlight into the small hours. The harvest, such as it was, was mostly already in, and most of those who worked the land would be able to take time out for a holiday.
The master of the castle frowned from his window, noting the booths and tables of the operators of several games of chance. Their honesty, unlike that of the other merchants, tended to be of only one degree.
'Hoy, these gamblers, gamesters.' The knight's face expressed his disapproval. 'Remind me, Yoldi. I ought to warn them that if any of them are caught cheating again this year, they can expect severe treatment from me.'
'I'll remind you tomorrow. Though they will undoubtedly cheat anyway, as you ought to realize by this time. Now, may we get on with the important business?'
'All right, we'll get it over with.' And the knight looked almost sternly at his enchantress, as if it were her fault that the meeting with the Duke's people was being delayed. He motioned briskly toward the stair, and this time she led the way up. He asked: 'Who has the Duke sent to bully me this time?'
'He's sent two, one of which you'll probably remember. Hugh of Semur. He's one of the stewards of the Duke's territories adjoining…'
'Yes, yes, I do remember him, you don't have to tell me. Blustery little man. Fraktin always likes to send two, so they can spy and report on each other, I suppose. Who's the other this time?'
'Another one of the Duke's cousins. Lady Marat.'
'For a man without direct heirs, he has more cousins than anyway, I don't know her. What's she like?'
'Good-looking. Otherwise I'm not sure yet what she's like, except that she means you no good.'
The pair of them were leaving the stair now, on a high level of the castle that held Sir Andrew's favorite general-purpose meeting room. He caught up with Dame Yoldi and took her arm. 'I hardly supposed she would. Well, let's have them in here. Grapes of Bacchus, do you suppose there's any of that good ale left? No, don't call for it now, I didn't, mean that. Later, after the Duke's dear emissaries have departed.'
The emissaries were shortly being ushered in. The Lady Marat was tall and willowy and dark of hair and skin. Again, as in Dame Yoldi's case, what must once have been breathtaking beauty was still considerable in the case of Lady Marat, thought Sir Andrew, nature had almost certainly been fortified in recent years by a touch of enchantment here and there.
Hugh of Semur, a step lower than Her Ladyship in the formal social scale, was chunkilv built and much pore mundanelooking, though, as his clothes testified, he was something of a dandy too. Sir Andrew recalled Hugh as having more than a touch of self-importance, but he was probably trying to suppress this characteristic at the moment.
Formal greetings were quickly got out of the way, and refreshment perfunctorily offered and declined. Lady Marat wasted no time in beginning the real discussion, for which she adopted a somewhat patronizing tone: 'As you will have heard, cousin, the Duke's beloved kinsman, the Seneschal Ibn Gauthier, was assassinated some days ago.'
'Some word of that has reached us, yes,' Sir Andrew admitted. Having got that far he hesitated, trying to find some truthful comment that would not sound too impolite. He preferred not to be impolite without deliberate purpose and good cause.
Her Ladyship continued: 'We have good reason to believe that the assassin is here in your domain, or at least on his way. He is a commoner, his name is Mark, the son of Jord the miller of the village of Arin-on-Aldan. This Mark is twelve years old, and he is described as large for his age. His hair and general coloring are fair, his face round, his behavior treacherous in the extreme. He has with him a very valuable sword, stolen from the Duke. A reward of a hundred gold pieces is offered for the sword, and an equal amount for the assassin-thief.'
'A boy of twelve, you say?' The furrow of unhappiness that had marked Sir Andrew's brow since the commencement of the interview now deepened. 'How sad. Well, we'll do what we must. If this lad should appear before me for any reason, I'll certainly question him closely.'
The Lady Marat was somehow managing to look down her nose at Sir Andrew, though the chair in which he sat as host and ruler here was somewhat higher than her own. 'Good Cousin Andrew, I think that His Grace expects a rather more active co-operation on your part than that. It will be necessary for you to conduct an all-out search for this killer, throughout your territory. And when the assassin is found, to deliver him speedily to the Duke's justice. And, to find and return the stolen sword as well.'
Sir Andrew was frowning at her fixedly. 'Twice now you've called me that. Are we really cousins?' he wondered aloud. And his bass voice warbled over the suggestion in a way that implied he found it profoundly disturbing.
Dame Yoldi, seated at Sir Andrew's right hand, looked disturbed too, but also half amused. While Hugh of Semur, showing no signs but those of nervousness, hastened to offer an explanation. 'Sir Andrew, Her Ladyship meant only to speak in informal friendship.'
'Did she, hah? Had m'hopes up high there for a minute. Thought I was about to become a member of the Duke's extended family. Could count on his fierce vengeance to track down anyone, any child at least, who did me any harm. Tell me, will you two be staying to enjoy the fair?'
The Lady Marat's visage had turned to dark ice, and she was on the verge of rising from her chair. But Dame Yoldi had already risen; perhaps some faint noise from outside that had made no impression on the others had still caught her attention, for she had gone to the window and was looking out into the approaching sunset.
Now she turned back. 'Good news, Sir Andrew,' she announced in an almost formal voice. 'I believe that
