Chapter 7
With the evening’s entertainment in full swing, Four Corners held an energy and enticement not felt beyond its boundaries. Lights, colors, and sounds seemed to emanate from all around Kestrel. She sidestepped a collision with a street juggler and ducked as one of his clay bobbles came crashing down.
She glanced from one side of the street to the other, spotting the dragonkin’s swaying topknot disappear around the corner. With a mumbled apology to the irritated juggler, she hurried after her friend. Never was she allowed to visit the townships they traveled through without the eyes of an elder trained upon her. Certainly not after sunset on the first day of the Festival.
Kestrel would have stopped and gaped at the merchants, hawking their wares from small booths set before the storefronts, if she hadn’t been trying to win Jayf’s approval. She scooted between two of the vendors where the aroma of savory meat pies contended with the fragrance of sweet pastries from the stall beside it.
A boy, not much older than she, offered her a roll sticky with honey for a single copper. Kestrel smiled wistfully, shook her head and hurried after Jayf. She rounded the corner and came nose to topknot with the dragonkin. He backed up a skipping hop before she had another chance to make herself out to be an awkward dolt.
“So glad you decided to join me, mistress Thorn. The Three Lutes Inn is known for its friendliness, but it grows late and wine sometimes loosens the boundaries of proper friendliness... where a pretty face is concerned,” Jayf said, pointing at a sign, sticking out from a building, toward the end of the street.
Kestrel felt her face warming with the compliment. “Is that where we are headed?”
“Indeed, it is, my young friend. Stay close and we will be fine,” Jayf said as Kestrel shortened her steps to keep pace with the dragonkin’s gait.
She glanced around. This street did not seem as busy or intimidating. But from the corner of her vision, she noticed the same juggler slip along the walkway on the far side of the road.
Frowning, she turned back to Jayf. “I think someone is following,” she said, glancing once more across the street. “See the tall man with the shiny flash to his over-shirt? He was juggling on the last street and my carelessness made him break one of his bobbles.”
Jayf nodded but kept walking and when he spoke, it seemed to be a whisper in her ear. “Our friend has been noted. Scouting skills are unique when working in towns and groups of people.
As you can see, you must learn to blend with the rest of the festival-goers. Especially because we are obviously not from here.”
Kestrel followed close behind. It was easy for him to say, she thought, he who could disappear in the blink of an eye. She smiled to herself, wishing she had that ability, but then she didn’t know where he went when he disappeared. And chuckling to herself, she shook her head, not sure she wanted to know.
They stopped before a small cloak-pin stall and Kestrel looked down, meeting the gaze of her strange new friend. But she soon averted her eyes, looking instead at the various pins for sale on the counter. She had met no one with such mesmerizing eyes. The swirling blues and greens seemed to look into you.
Jayf broke into her thoughts, asking if she saw a pin she liked. She shook her head, and he started up the avenue, again, at a leisurely pace. “Never stay overlong at one booth,” he said, “unless you are haggling over a price for purchase. And keep an eye open for the detail. Look for the out of place or what is not in tune with the surroundings.”
They crossed the hard-packed road while Kestrel listened. He quietly advised her on what she should look for and things to keep in mind when going into an enclosed area. Drawing near the Inn, he pointed out the alley between it and the smithy next door.
“If circumstances separate us, check the stables at the end of the ally. If I am not there, do not dally, hightail it to the caravan. I can take care of myself,” Jayf admonished. “Now,” he said, opening the tavern door. “I have a thirst and a note to deliver.”
The clang and clamor of the inn swallowed their entrance and Jayf paused, glancing around. The customers were mostly locals, tired from the first day of the Kalayani Festival. A minstrel strummed a tune from a chair by the hearth, and the better part of the patrons seemed engrossed in their own conversations. Satisfied, Jayf signaled for Kestrel to follow and he headed for a table being cleared.
“Is this table available?” He asked the serving girl.
The girl straightened, empty mugs in one hand, bar rag in the other. “Jayf!,” Dismay flashed in her eyes and she glanced around the room. “Marley isn’t here, too? Is he?” she asked, turning back to him, her voice now a low whisper.
“No worries, Natalie. I am here to see you,” Jayf said with a wink, hoping to put her at ease. “Perhaps you have a more private table?”
Her color deepened to match her short auburn hair as she regained her composure. She dipped a little curtsy and spun about, leading them to a table nestled beneath the staircase.
“This table is called the beggar’s table, although it has many uses besides hiding the poor from their betters,” Natalie said with a wink. “It’s screened from view of the other custom and yet provides a view of both doors.”
Jayf approved of her choice and once more scanned the room. Still not finding anything amiss, he slid onto the bench seat against the wall.
“Be at peace, Natalie. We are safe for the time being. If you could arrange a moment or two and a couple of small tankards of mead, we will be in your debt.”
“I hope that is the worst you will incur.” She gave another little curtsy and a slight nod toward Kestrel before turning on her heel and retreating to the bar.
“I wonder what that was about,” Kestrel remarked, sitting in the chair across from Jayf.
Jayf shrugged, not willing to speculate, but wondering if it had been a mistake to bring the clan girl.
Natalie returned quickly with two full tankards in one hand and a bucket and rag in the other. “I only have a couple of moments,” she said, setting the drinks down. “I told the innkeeper a customer had a slight accident.”
Jayf took a swallow and pushed the other mug toward Kestrel. “A light, sweet taste I think you will like, Kestrel.”
The clan’s girl smiled her approval and Natalie sat on the edge of the bench next to Jayf. “Your pardon for my earlier abruptness. It is just that the Tavir Academy of Sedd took over all the rooms down at Garbie’s Inn. And aside from Marley being considered an outlaw in Sedd, they’re spreading rumors of a plague affecting those with ancient or elemental blood.”
She nodded her head toward Kestrel in recognition as she continued, “Especially those of the Al’far races.”
“Sounds like what Gambel and Taul reported will need to be updated. They also suspected the plague was a lie. Have you...”
“Taul! You’ve seen Taul?”
“I saw him, but it was Marley and Drogan who took the reports. I was otherwise occupied.” Jayf fished around in his pouch for a moment, pulling out a neatly folded parchment.
“Here it is,” he said, handing over the letter from Taul.
Natalie sighed, her eyes full of longing, and tucked the note into her bodice. Her hand softly tapping that place, she rose and said, “I will let our contacts know. He careful, I do not believe,” she glanced around the tavern and continued, “the influx of soldiers and weavers from Sedd are here for festival fun.” With one last swipe at the tabletop, she paused. “And no, we have seen no plague cases, nor any Al’far. Present company excluded. “She tossed her rag into the bucket and sauntered off.
The noise of the inn made conversation with Kestrel hard, and she soon moved her chair around the table. Jayf could tell she was bubbling with questions. But he worried about who else might be listening.
He nodded slightly toward the entrance. “Your juggler friend has not shown up. I think we sh…” he stopped mid-word, all of his dragon senses going off. Something was about to happen. He could feel it. But it was too far off to sense the intent... just the anticipation. He turned to Kestrel, ready to tell her they needed to leave, when the front door opened.
Three men strode in. Each draped with a heavy cloak against the chill of the early Kalayani night. The one in the lead wore an ebony cloak with purple trim, while the two that walked behind wore an intense blue wave pattern embroidered as a trim on the cloaks.
Kestrel started to speak, but Jayf quieted her with a quick shake of his head. A shiver of revulsion went through him. One of them carried a spirit stone.
“I need to leave. You have a better chance of getting out of here undetected without me. Remember, watch your timing and do not put yourself in danger,” he whispered in Kestrel’s ear and took to the Paths.