Masques (Sianim #1)(14)

The most interesting thing that had happened here so far was when she heard that the daughter of the Headman of Kestral ran off with somebody named Harold the Rat. When the highwayman came in next time looking more miserable than usual accompanied by a female who was taller than him by a good six inches, Aralorn concluded that he was the mysterious Harold and offered him her silent condolences.

The worst part of this monotony was that she had more time than she wanted to think about the ae'Magi. She knew that she should do something, but for the life of her she couldn't think what.

Tonight was worse than usual; the innkeeper's wife was sick and the innkeeper was doing all of the cooking - rendering the food even less edible than it usually was. This led to more than the usual number of customers getting sick on the floor - because the only thing left to do at the inn was drink, and the alcohol that they served was none of the best and quite probably mildly poisonous, judging by the state of the poor fools who drank it.

As the newest barmaid, the task of cleaning up fell to Aralorn. She'd found that this consisted mostly of moving the mess around until it blended with the rest of the grime on the floor. The lye in the water ate at the skin on her hands almost as badly as the smell of the inn ate at her nose.

She dipped the foul-smelling mop into the fouler-smelling water and occupied herself with the thought of what she would do to Ren the next time she saw him. As she was scrubbing, humming a merry accompaniment to her thoughts, a sudden hush fell over the room.

Startled out of her reverie, Aralorn looked up to see the cause of the unusual quiet. Against the grime and darkness of the inn, the brilliant clothing of the two men in court attire was more than a little incongruous.

Not nobles surely, but pages or messengers from the royal court. They were usually used to run messages from the court to a noble's estate. What they were doing at this little, pedestrian inn was anyone's guess.

Unobtrusively, Aralorn worked her way to a better observation post and watched the proceedings carefully.

One of the pages stayed near the door. The other walked to the center of the room. He spoke slowly so that his strange court accent wouldn't keep the northerners from understanding his message. It was obvious to Aralorn from his stilted style that the speech had been memorized.

"Greetings, people. We bring you tragic news. Two weeks ago Myr, your king, overset by the deaths of his parents, attacked and killed several of his own palace guard. Overwrought by what he had done, his majesty seized a horse and left the royal castle. Geoffrey ae'Magi has consented to the request by the Assembly to accept the regency of Reth until such time as King Myr is found and restored to his senses. The ae'Magi has asked that the people of Reth look for their king so that a cure may be effected. As he is not right in his mind it may, regrettably, be necessary to restrain the king by force. As this is a crime punishable by death, the Regent has issued a pardon. If the king can be brought to the ae'Magi, there is every possibility that he can be cured. As loyal subjects, it is your duty to find Myr.

"It is understood that a journey to the royal castle will be a financial hardship, thus he will have just recompense for his service to his king. A thousand marks will be paid to the party that brings King Myr to the capitol. I have been authorized to repeat this message to the citizens of Reth by the Regent, Geoffrey ae'Magi." He repeated his message twice, word for word each time, then he bowed and left the inn with his companion.

"So," thought Aralorn, "the day isn't such a loss after all."

Wandering between tables, she caught bits and pieces of conversation and found that everyone thought that the ae'Magi had done them a great service by taking the throne. They didn't all agree on what ought to be done for the king. One man said that everything should be done to see that Myr was captured and taken to be cured. He was answered by agreeable muttering from his table.

Olin, the tanner from Torin, stood up, more than slightly drunk and spoke loudly. "Anyone who cares about Reth should kill Myr and ask for Geoffrey ae'Magi to take the kingship of us. Who needs a king what is going to attack his own folk out of the blue like that? Just think what'd be like havin' the Sorcerer for a king. We'd not worry 'bout those Darranians who're claiming our mines over in the east." He paused to belch. "'N with the most powerful magician in the world, we could even drive those Uriah spooks outta the wilds. Then we could be rich again."

Not to mention that a thousand marks was more than a man earned in a lifetime of farming or mining, thought Aralorn. The tanner's speech wasn't odd, but Aralorn was surprised how it was received. The patrons of the inn shifted uncomfortably, and chose another topic to speak on; but they didn't disagree with what he'd said. The whole nation had adored their young king, who was promising both as a warrior and a statesman. Two years ago Olin's words would have gotten him into a rough argument or even a fight.

Moving unobtrusively. Aralorn took the slop bucket outside to dump it. That done, she walked to the stables where Sheen was.

She received a lot of harassment from Ren when she took the warhorse with her on assignments because he was too valuable to go unremarked. Talor carried an old coin for luck when he went into battle: it must be much more convenient than a horse.

She did what she could to disguise his worth. He'd long ago learned to limp on command, which helped somewhat. She also left him ungroomed, but anyone with an eye for horses could see that he was no farmer's plug.