:Good. Mind you, I’d feel better if you had more than one set of hands and eyes helping you—:
:But the more people there are in on a secret, the harder it becomes to keep it.: He felt Kantor’s sigh of resignation beneath his legs as they trotted out into the stable yard, under the arched gate that led to the street, and onto the thoroughfare itself. Kantor didn’t argue with him, though. The Companion knew just as well as anyone that if Alberich was going to do the covert part of his job effectively, it had to be kept secret. Heralds were humans—as witness Mirilin!—and humans talked, gossiped, let things slip by accident. That was one of the reasons why Alberich needed to do his job in the first place.
The ride up to the Collegium was uneventful, and now that substantial inroads had been made on clearing the snow, it was a bit faster than the ride down had been. And Alberich noted as they rode that it wasn’t only the Trainees that had been infected by a spirit of play—there were snow fights and sliding, the building of snow sculptures and castles, and he saw no few people going by with skates over their shoulders. As they came into the region of private houses, larger and representing more wealth, the closer they came to the Palace, there was even more sign of merrymaking in the snow.
:Well, it isn’t often that Haven sees a snowfall as heavy as this one has been.:
:Personally, I have never seen anything of the sort,: Alberich admitted. :There are snows in my hills, but they are thin and dry.:
:This is winter weather typical for the North of Valdemar, not so much here,: said Kantor. :I wonder—:
There was a long pause, as they wove their way among the houses of the highborn, and laughter and shrieks of pleasure and excitement echoed behind the walls and fences.
:You wonder—?: Alberich prompted his Companion.
:Well, it’s dreadfully soon . . . and the Court is technically still in mourning . . . but a snowfall like this doesn’t come very often, and there’s going to be a hard cold spell coming behind it.: Kantor gave the impression to Alberich that he was musing aloud, though Alberich wondered for a moment where he was getting his weather information. :The Terilee is going to freeze solid when that cold spell comes—that hasn’t happened in fifty years. I just wonder if it’s occurred to Selenay to decree a Snow Festivaclass="underline"
Although Alberich had never heard of a Snow Festival before, the name pretty much told him everything he needed to know. :If the river freezes solid, isn’t something like that bound to happen spontaneously anyway?: The very novelty of the frozen river would bring skaters—the skaters would draw vendors of food and drink, and those would attract musicians, skate sharpeners, skate vendors, and probably more merchants than that. On the whole—well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for an official Festival to take place, official mourning be damned. The Wars had dragged on for years. Sendar’s death had cast a pall over the entire country, but there was only so much grieving that you could do before you just wearied of it. Selenay’s coronation had been a triumph, but it had been a shadowed triumph.
:Well, you can hear it beginning for yourself,: Kantor agreed, tossing his head in the direction of yet more laughter. :And once the river freezes, people will come flocking down to the banks. If it were me, I’d go ahead and make the decree so that what is going to break out anyway gets some time limits to it. And while we’re at it, something like this would create a number of excellent opportunities for you to nose about and listen.: Kantor paused, perhaps to gather his thoughts. :If anyone is going to try and foment discontent, oddly enough, a Festival is a good place to do so. You can say things then that people will dismiss as the drink talking—but the words will still stick in the memory, and should Selenay or her Council do something that people don’t agree with—those words will be remembered.:
:We really do think too much alike,: Alberich agreed, as they turned in at the gate, with a friendly nod to the Guardsman on duty. :So, to whom should we drop hints, and when?:
:Leave that to us Companions,: said Kantor. :It’s what we’re good at.:
The area around the salle was extremely quiet without streams of Trainees coming and going. When Dethor had moved out, Alberich had gotten the carpenters to put in a good, stout, one-Companion “stable” up against that oven wall for Kantor to stay in when he chose. It was immensely more convenient not to have to go all the way up to the Companions’ stable in order to tack him up—and this way, he and Kantor could come and go without any fuss or anyone noticing. Kantor himself always went up to the main stable to eat and drink, and Companions being Companions and not horses, the interior of this secondary stable didn’t need to be cleaned. Alberich being Alberich, he saw to Kantor’s tack himself, except for the fancy “show” or “parade” tack, so it wasn’t really any inconvenience to the stablehands, either, for Kantor to have his everyday kit down here. Alberich dismounted at the door of the little lean-to addition, and Kantor followed him inside. It was pleasantly warm, thanks to that brick wall.
:I’m going up to the stable,: the Companion said, as Alberich took off his halter and he shook his head and neck vigorously. :I’m going to have some consultations.:
Alberich bent to unbuckle the girth. :I’ll probably be here for the next mark or two. I want to think a few things over myself.:
Kantor tossed his head, and when Alberich had a good grip on the saddle and blanket, walked out from underneath them. :I’ll let you know if anything gets started.:
And with that, the Companion trotted back out into the snow, leaving Alberich to wipe down the tack and hang it up to dry.
It was less quiet in the salle than Alberich had thought it would be. He’d forgotten that there was going to be a crew of cleaners making sure that there was not the tiniest bit of glass left behind, then setting the floor to rights again. The soft murmur of voices was rather pleasant. He slipped in without disturbing them and went back into his own quarters.
The glory of his window took him by surprise—a blaze of gold and blue, color in a room that had been pale and faded in winter light before the window had been put in.
It was going to be a while before he got used to the change, but the shock was one of pleasure, and he found that he liked it. He sat down where he got the best possible view of the glass, and was bathed in the golden light coming from the Sun-In-Glory.
Ah. . . . It felt good. It felt right, to have the light of Vkandis about him. It felt like a blessing, and perhaps it was. If that was so, well, this was a good place for him to be when he was thinking about important decisions.
Now, the question about Keren and Myste was, should he take one or both women into his confidence concerning his covert work? Myste had the better knowledge of Haven; Keren would fit into rougher places. As he weighed the abilities of one against the other, it became clear that if he was going to do this, it would, eventually, have to be both. Neither had the ability or the skills to move in all the places that he could. But he thought that he would approach Keren about this first. It was, after all, the rougher places of Haven where most of his prowling was done.