I nodded but I did not agree. My master and I have met many who are haunted by such actions of the blessed. Our blades have helped them sleep a little easier. I did not believe that this woman would look back fondly on her night with the king, and from the look on Heamus’s face, neither did he.
We walked through the keepyard gate and across the wide townyard in silence. Festival was already beginning to gather, and its vanguard was setting up, a growing caravan city in the centre of the ghostly one that only existed from above. The caravans were huge—drawn by draymounts, a small and squat breed of mount with curling horns rather than antlers and long hair that fell in matted ropes to trail along the ground. The draymounts were all muscle, and it took six of the powerful beasts to draw the gaudy two-storey caravans that were the homes of the Festival Lords. The Tired Lands may be home to kings, queens and blessed, but, second only to the high king and his Landsmen at Cealdon, the Festival Lords were the only other real power. Festival controlled the majority of trade across the Tired Lands, and the Festival Lords controlled Festival. They travelled in a constant circle, two and a half thousand miles around, stopping at towns and castles to trade and put on shows. The castles and towns relied on Festival as much, and probably more in most cases, as Festival relied on them. From Maniyadoc, which was the centre of the Tidal Flats, they would pick up dried fish, fruit, sweet alcoholic perry, livestock and stock up for crossing the western sourlands. Last time I had seen the Festival caravan it had been five miles long and strewn out in such a way it took two days to pass. It was not only traders and entertainers; Festival had its own guards, Riders, rules, and if you were running from someone it was said you could find sanctuary there and start again—if the Lords had some use for your skills. Festival made itself open to all—faces of every colour and the clothes of every tribe could be found here—but at the same time it was secretive; few saw past the outside of its gaudy tents and caravans. Many were distrustful of it and talked of it being a hiding place for hedgings. Their distrust was heightened as Festival was by far the biggest and richest town in the Tired Lands; it just happened to be one on wheels and mountback.
This distrust did not stretch to stopping anyone coming to it, of course.
We passed Tomas and his group of squires playing some game with a ball and stick. I wondered what the game was, if I would be good at it and if they would let me join them. Their laughter echoed around the townyard, coming closer then receding. It made me think of the story of Eyol who chased eternal happiness: he found it elusive, often within his reach but never staying still.
“Here we are,” said Heamus after we had passed the massive caravans. “I have seen your mount—Xus, he’s called?” I nodded. “A fine beast, a war beast.”
“Not my Xus, he is only for riding. Though he is a fine animal,” I said. “My father breeds mounts.”
“Strange to name a mount bred for pleasure after the god of death.”
He seemed to be reaching for something.
“Not so strange, Heamus. Xus is a contrary and evil-tempered animal on occasion. Most of our stablehands feared him like they feared death so we named him for Xus the unseen.” It was not so far from the truth, though his name was actually a joke. Xus was my master’s mount and brought death wherever he went.
“That makes sense, I suppose.” Did Heamus look a little disappointed? “Anyway, go to your mount—no doubt it will be glad to see you.” Shouting came from the stable block. “As will our stablehands, from the sound of it.”
The stable block ran along the townyard wall and was built of the same black stone as the rest of the castle and the kennels opposite, from which came the faint yapping of hounds. Snaking columns, scarred where stone faces had been excised from them, rose to the stables’ high roof. It was tall of necessity as mounts are far taller than a man, even taller when you take their antlers into consideration.
In the stable block I was surprised by how light it was. The roof had been built of crystal so the mounts could enjoy basking in light. On either side of a wide aisle were stalls, about thirty a side, though only the stalls on one side were occupied. In the centre of the building two stablehands were fighting to control Xus as he reared and hissed, striking out with his clawed feet. They used ropes around his antlers to stop him goring them but were failing to get him into a stall.
“Xus,” I said, using the Whisper-that-Flies-to-the-Ear. He stopped his struggling and pawed at the floor with a front foot. The taller of the two stablehands looked from Xus to me and then threw his rope to the ground and walked out in disgust.
“Don’t mind Leiss,” said the other stablehand, a girl. “He considers himself an expert when it comes to mounts, and this beast was defying him.” She shook her head. “Is he your mount?” I nodded. “How did you do that, make him quieten? You are upwind of him and their eyesight is not good—he would see you only as a blur from where you are—but he stopped struggling almost as soon as you entered.”
“Yes,” said Heamus, studying both me and the girl with an odd look in his eye. “That was a good trick, Girton, one I would like to learn myself.”
I had made a mistake, using assassin skills in full view of strangers when I was not even meant to use them around other assassins.
“There was no trick, I am afraid. It is simply that Xus is unusually perceptive for a mount.” I walked up to the huge animal, not looking at the girl or Heamus in case they could see the lie in my eye. I reached out to scratch the mount’s long muzzle. “Aren’t you, Xus?” He cooed gently through his long downward-pointing front tusks.
“Will you introduce me to him?” asked the girl.
“Sorry?” She was pretty, her red hair cut short in a way that showed off high cheekbones. Her slim face was a shade darker than the usual tan of one who habitually spent their days outside, something startling in a castle where so many people seemed like mirror images of each other. She must have come from far outside the castle, maybe even from outside Maniyadoc and the Long Tides.
“Introduce me to him.” She pointed at Xus while keeping a respectful distance. “Often when a mount has a strong connection with its owner it is best for them to introduce the animal to a new stablehand. You have stabled your mount with others before and done this, yes?” She smiled and took a step forward. Xus let out a distrustful snort and tossed his head.
“Of course,” I said, though I had not. My master was always the one to stable the mount. “What is your name?”
“Drusl,” she said.
“Xus,” I said, feeling foolish, “this is Drusl.” The girl laughed, clapping her hands and shaking her head. “You are funny, Blessed.”