Gail Martin - The Sworn

“We’ve got trouble at the festival,” Jonmarc said. “If you’ve got the stomach for a fight, it looks like there’s more bad news coming from across the Northern Sea. Help us, and I’ll ask the queen to find patrons who’ll take you out of Landis’s reach.”

Rigel was silent, looking from face to face, and Jonmarc wondered if he had the ability to mind speak with the other mages. Finally, he met Jonmarc’s eyes and nodded. “You have yourself some mages. There’re more coming. They couldn’t be here this morning, but they should arrive before the festival begins.” He smiled then, a look that seemed to anticipate the danger and accepted the risks. There was a glint in his eyes that told Jonmarc that Rigel knew what they were signing on for, knew before they set foot in Lienholt Palace.

“All right then,” Jonmarc said, setting his empty cup aside. “Let’s get started.”

Later that day, just before tenth bells in the evening, Berry’s procession left the palace to head for the festival. Despite all their preparations, Jonmarc still didn’t feel confident that the ceremony would finish without incident. Thanks to Hant and Valjan, Jonmarc knew that the number of soldiers who were visible in their uniforms was only a fraction of the number of their men who were dressed as festivalgoers throughout the crowd. Rigel and Tevin rode with the queen’s entourage. The others had dispersed into the crowd, without the robes that marked them as mages, indistinguishable from the celebrants. They, too, would watch for trouble, using their magic. Kolin and Laisren had agreed to meet them near the dais. Anton and Serg were already in position. Jonmarc hoped that the heightened senses of the vayash moru and vyrkin would pick up some clue before the Black Robes made their move.

Aidane also rode with the queen’s party. Unlike their entry into Principality City, when she hid her serroquette ’s outfit with a traveling cloak, Aidane seemed to flaunt her status. Whether it was bravado or Aidane knew that here at Haunts a serroquette would be welcome and not reviled, Jonmarc couldn’t say. She had a determined look, and if he watched, her expression changed so that he guessed that she was alternating with Thaine to scan the crowd as they passed.

“Smile,” Berry whispered as Jonmarc rode next to her. “This is supposed to be a celebration.”

“I don’t feel like smiling.”

Berry chuckled, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes. She patted the folds of her skirt. “I have both sets of knives Carroway gave me. Spent a candlemark last night practicing. It’s good for the nerves.”

“I wish we’d had more time. For all we know, the Durim have been planning whatever they’re going to do for months.” As he spoke, Jonmarc scanned the crowd, but all he saw were drunken revelers. He’d told the others to watch for people who didn’t seem intoxicated, who weren’t doing their best to get laid or score a free drink. If anything, this year’s Haunts seemed to be more out of control than Jonmarc remembered it to be, as if the news of plague and the rumors of war had convinced people to live it up while they still had time.

“You know, I’ve had more complaints from the constables this year than ever before,” Gellyr murmured, echoing Jonmarc’s thoughts. “It’s been like a weeklong drunken binge, and even by Haunts standards, ‘orgy’ seems too mild a word.”

“Back when we were mercs, Valjan’s motto was ‘Drink it, eat it, win it, and bed it, because tomorrow you die.’ In a business where most people didn’t live to see thirty seasons, I’d say it was taken to heart.”

“Indeed. Although I don’t think everyone here is a merc.”

Jonmarc shrugged. “If there were a year that would convince people to make the most of it while they’re still breathing, I’d say it’s the year we’ve just lived through. Or at least, it’s an excuse to get their minds off it.”

They reached the dais without incident. Soldiers in palace livery stood shoulder to shoulder along the pathway through the crowd and lined the edge of the raised platform. Behind the dais and creating a semicircle around the center of the crowd were the eight straw effigies of the Aspects of the Sacred Lady. Each effigy stood as broad as a tall man and four times as high, made of straw over a frame of wood.

At midnight on Haunts, the effigies would be lit and the revelry would reach its frenzied peak. A child conceived near midnight on Haunts was considered to be especially fortunate and said to be fated for wealth and happiness. Jonmarc noticed that more women in the crowd than usual appeared to be very near term, and he fought down a stab of loneliness, missing Carina. Beyond the dais, the white tents of the Temple Companions had long lines of both men and women, waiting to seal their good fortune for the next year by coupling with the Companions. They were going to have a busy night. Throughout the crowd, bead-draped revelers sang, hooted, and danced, and the smell of ale, wine, and stronger drink hung as heavy in the air as the incense of the Sacred Vessels. Local legend said that anyone too drunk to remember midnight on Haunts would be blessed by having their troubles erased like their memories of the evening. By the look of it, most of the crowd had a lot they wanted to forget.

Jonmarc turned his attention to the dais. Eight white pillars were draped with swags of fabric. In front of each pillar was a statue to one of the faces of the Lady, and at the foot of each statue, a brazier glowing with incense. Smaller braziers ringed the large common area, and the wood for a huge bonfire was stacked, ready to be lit at midnight. Prayers, requests, and thank-yous to the Lady could be written on scraps of wood or cloth and tossed into the braziers or into the central bonfire, and it was said that the sparks would carry the messages to the Lady Herself.

Eight women were already standing on the dais, and Jonmarc knew they were the Sacred Vessels, seers, oracles, and rune scryers who had dedicated themselves to the worship of the Lady, especially the favored Aspects of Principality: the Lover and Whore. At the moment, they wore loose white robes. Before the night was through, they would shed the robes to make their predictions sky-clad. Tonight, with the unusual circumstances of a feast night coronation, Berry would join them on the dais. Their predictions were expected to be focused more than usual on the fortunes of the new queen, and Jencin had told him that it was not unheard of for the spirit of the Lady to fall upon the newly crowned monarch with visions and prophecies. Such an occurrence was considered to be a very good omen. Jonmarc found the prospect unsettling.

Even with the guards, the crowd seemed too close, now that they knew the Durim were among them. Jonmarc scanned the crowd, but nothing seemed amiss. Still, his gut feeling warned him that something was very wrong.

When they reached the dais, Jonmarc helped Berry down from her horse, while Gellyr assisted Aidane. Jonmarc knew for a fact that Berry could have swung down on her own, but an unaided dismount would not convey the proper queenly reserve. As they had hurriedly arranged ahead of time, Berry held out her hand to Aidane, asking Aidane to accompany her to make the sacrifices that protocol demanded. Soldiers weren’t allowed on the dais, so having Jonmarc attend her wasn’t an option, and they had all agreed that Thaine would be in the best position to search for enemies, seeing through Aidane’s eyes if Aidane were on the dais with Berry.

The crowd murmured when they realized that Berry had chosen a serroquette as her attendant. Although there were plenty of whores, concubines, consorts, and plain old strumpets in Principality, real serroquette s were rare, and even more rarely seen in the company of a monarch. If the attention bothered Aidane, she didn’t show it, and then Jonmarc realized from her walk that it was Thaine in charge. He smiled despite himself. Thaine would have loved the show.