“Where are you going?” the Qirsi asked as he drew near.
Tavis nodded toward the crowd, but said nothing. There were too many people close by and though he had been working to perfect his Aneiran accent, it remained less than convincing.
Halting just in front of him, Grinsa gave a quick glance toward the mass of people, his brow wrinkling for just a moment. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Tavis said quietly. “I thought I’d take a look.”
“Another time perhaps. We need to find a room and talk.” Grinsa faced him again, an avid look in his fire yellow eyes. “He’s here, in the castle.”
“All right, we’ll go shortly. But I want to see what’s happening over there.”
Grinsa frowned. “Excuse me!” he called to a man hurrying past them. “What is it you’re all rushing to see?”
The man looked at them over his shoulder, barely slowing down. “The musicians, of course.”
“Musicians?”
The stranger gave an exasperated sigh and stopped, though clearly he would have preferred to leave it to someone else to answer their questions. “The ones from the Swallow’s Nest.” When neither Tavis nor Grinsa gave any sign that they understood, he went on, his tone growing more impatient by the moment. “They’ve played in the marketplace the past several days. I guess they hope to draw people to the tavern.” He started away again. “They’re better than any festival players I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you,” Grinsa called after him. “There,” he said, turning to Tavis again. “It’s just musicians. Seems you’ll be able to hear them tomorrow if you like. For now, we need to talk.”
Reluctantly, Tavis followed the gleaner away from the crowd and toward one of the many narrow lanes leading off the marketplace. It took them some time to find an inn that would rent them a room, and more time still to haggle over the price. By the time they began to climb the steps to their room in yet another Qirsi inn, it was well past midday. Once they were alone, Grinsa told Tavis all that he had learned from the guards at Mertesse Castle.
Shurik had returned with the duke and hadn’t left the safety of the castle since. He spent most of his time caring for the first minister, who was still recovering from the poisoning in Solkara. The new duke, though honoring his father’s pledge to protect the man, despised him and had no intention of ever making him a minister.
“How did you get a soldier of Mertesse to tell you all this?” the young lord asked, when Grinsa had finished.
“You remember the peddler we met in the Great Forest?”
Tavis felt the blood drain from his face.
“With all the guard told me,” the Qirsi went on a moment later, “I still have no idea how I can get close enough to Shurik to-” He fell silent, glancing uneasily at Tavis.
“To what?”
Grinsa stared at him briefly, his mouth twitching. Then he looked away. “To kill him.”
“I thought you wanted to question him, to learn what you could about the conspiracy.”
“I did. But with Keziah trying to join the movement, he’s too great a threat, to her as well as to me. I don’t have a choice anymore.”
Tavis considered this for several moments before starting to nod. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
Grinsa smiled, looking relieved. “Nothing for now. Rest. Walk the marketplace. Enjoy the musicians. I still have a great deal to learn. It’s been several years since I last visited Mertesse, and I don’t remember much about the castle.”
“You think we’ll have to do it there?”
“I doubt very much that Shurik will give us the opportunity to do it anywhere else.”
They spoke a while longer, Grinsa relating to Tavis those details he did remember about the castle and actually asking the young lord questions about the design of Curgh Castle, which apparently had been constructed at about the same time as Mertesse. Eventually they returned to the main room of the tavern to have a small meal and continue their conversation. Tavis was pleased to find that much of what he told the gleaner about his family castle seemed to interest Grinsa. So often in their time together- most recently when they had spoken of Grinsa’s powers-Tavis had felt like a child learning from a master, or even a parent. He enjoyed speaking with the Qirsi as if, for once, they were peers.
When they finished eating, Grinsa walked back to the castle, though he remained vague as to what he planned to do there, and Tavis returned to the marketplace, hoping to find the musicians. They agreed to meet back at the tavern at sundown.
When the young lord reached the marketplace, there was no sign of the musicians or the crowd they had attracted. He did find some jugglers who were throwing knives back and forth with alarming speed, and he watched them for a while before wandering among the carts again. It had been some time since he last heard a performance by worthy musicians, and he briefly considered going to the tavern where they were said to play. What had the man called it? The Swallow’s Nest. He knew, though, that Grinsa would think it a bad idea. With Shurik so close, Tavis sensed that the gleaner would have liked to lock Tavis in their room the entire day, just to keep him from being noticed. He couldn’t, of course, but he had made it clear that the boy was to limit himself to their room at the tavern and the marketplace. In any other city, Tavis would have chafed at such constraints. But Mertesse, located only a league from the Tarbin and the border with Eibithar, was different. In his kingdom it was said that no Aneirans hated his people more than those in Mertesse. If someone here recognized his accent they might very well kill him where he stood. He would wait until tomorrow, when he could hear the musicians in the marketplace.
When Tavis and Grinsa met at the end of the day, the gleaner seemed weary and discouraged. He explained that he had spoken to six or seven more guards, using his mind-bending magic on several of them, but had learned nothing more about the castle, or where Shurik’s quarters could be found. They ate their dinner in silence, then climbed the stairs to their room and slept.
The following morning, Tavis dressed quickly and was ready to leave the room before Grinsa was even out of bed.
“I want to find a good place to sit to hear the players,” he said, as he pulled the door open.
“All right. Be careful. I’ll be at the castle much of the morning, but I’ll try to find you in the marketplace around midday. If you don’t see me, come back here.”
Tavis nodded and left. So eager was he to reach the marketplace that he didn’t even stop to eat in the tavern. Instead he bought a round of bread from a baker and hurried on to where the musicians had played the day before. Even so, he wasn’t the first to get there and within an hour of his arrival, he was surrounded by a mass of people. He could only hope that the musicians were as good as these Aneirans seemed to think.
“It looks like everyone in the city is here.”
Tavis turned toward the voice, only to find a young, attractive red-haired woman looking at him. A frown flitted across her features as she traced his scars with her green eyes. But then she met his gaze and smiled. He gave a small smile in return and nodded, not wanting to risk a conversation.
“Did you hear them yesterday?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I did. They were wonderful, of course. When was the first time you saw them?”
“Actually, I haven’t seen them at all,” he told her, trying his best to sound Aneiran.
Judging from the puzzled look she gave him, he could tell that he had failed. “You’re not from Mertesse, are you?”
“No. I was born in Tounstrel, but I’ve… moved around a lot.”
The woman nodded seeming to accept this. “Well, you’re going to enjoy this. They’re the best musicians to perform here in years.”
“I’ve heard others say the same.”
“I’m Rissa.” She turned and surveyed the crowd, her frown returning. “My brother’s here somewhere, but I don’t see him right now.”