“They are the fathers of all living creatures,” Yarim said, “but Taarat’s power over life remainsparamount.”
“Is there a god of death?” Wellion asked curiously. “In Carliss, we have Tharam, the god who shepherds souls into theafterlife.”
Yarim opened his mouth to answer, but Tariel grabbed his arm. “Look,” she said urgently, pointing. “Upahead!”
Yarim followed the line of her finger to the main thoroughfare that passed directly in front of Salanis Palace. Soldiers were closing it off, and up ahead, the gates of the palace opened so the royal entourage couldpass.
“Let’s get closer,” Tariel said eagerly, pushing through the rapidly gathering crowd. Wellion tried to protest, but she grabbed his arm with her free hand and yanked them both forward. Yarim suspected a bit of magic was involved when the crowd parted almost effortlessly, and they quickly found themselves at thefront.
The soldiers finished cordoning off the thoroughfare, and a series of open carriages rolled past. Yarim counted eight in total, flanked by some fifty mounted guards. The carriages were mostly filled with courtiers, dressed to within an inch of their lives in fashionable outfits that sported colorful plumes and gemstones, but in the last one, which was far more ornate than the rest, the monarch and his familysat.
“That’s King Fornis the Second,” Yarim said, pointing out the man sitting up front. He wore a fine tunic with intricate red and gold embroidery, and looked healthy and regal, with a crown sitting atop his bald head and a thick, reddish-brown beard covering his strong jaw. “Next to him is Queen Cassia, and behind them are their children.” He reeled off the names of the two princes and princesses, who ranged in age from around twelve years old, all the way to twenty-two.
“The queen looks very good for her age,” Tariel remarked, staring at the woman as the carriage drew closer. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a series of intricate braids that had been piled atop her head, and she wore a splendid blue gown that brought out the color of hereyes.
To Yarim’s surprise, those eyes sharpened as the carriage passed in front of them. A flash of recognition lit within their depths as the queen looked directly at them, and the woman opened her mouth, looking startled. But then the carriage was gone, so quickly that Yarim wondered if he had imaginedit.
“I…did anyone else see that?” Tariel asked, sounding stunned. “The queen looked at me as though she knewme.”
“That man is looking at you as if he knows you,” Wellion said, jerking his chin toward the other side of the street. “Do you knowhim?”
Yarim looked to where Wellion stared, and his entire body went stiff. “That,” he said tightly, “is Sir Jerrold.” There was a new scar on the side of his head, visible through his close-cropped blond hair, and he wore a fancy cape with his armor, but there was no mistaking the zealous witch hunter who had killed his servants back in Fjordland and driven him out ofKalsing.
“He’s spotted us,” Tariel whispered, and Yarim could feel her fear through the bond. Indeed, Sir Jerrold was looking right at them with his penetrating blue eyes, and seemed to be pointing them out to the two noblemen he stoodbetween.
“We need to move.” Wellion grabbed Tariel’s arm and dragged her through the crowd. “Come, thisway!”
Yarim hurried after them into a side street, glancing over his shoulder to see if Jerrold had sent any of his men after them. Hearts pounding, they hurried through a warren of old crooked streets and lanes, taking a roundabout path back to the inn that carried them far away from thethoroughfare.
“It doesn’t seem as though anyone has followed us,” Tariel panted as they stopped in the square just outside the inn. Wellion was scanning the crowd, his frosted eyes sharp, but Yarim didn’t see any men bearing the sigil of Roisen on their clothing or armor. “We must have gotten away fastenough.”
“It would have taken a bit of time for them to open up the road again,” Yarim said. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Perhaps Calrain was right about being more cautious in thestreets.”
Wellion shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “The authorities won’t arrest Tariel simply because Sir Jerrold says she is a witch. Magic users are not as loved here as they are in the Empire, but they are still not consideredcriminals.”
“True, but Sir Jerrold has more than witchcraft on me,” Tariel said, her cheekscoloring.
“Oh?” Wellion raised an eyebrow. “Likewhat?”
Tariel ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. “We were forced to steal horses, which is a capital crime,” she said. “Sir Jerrold can get us on multiple counts of horse theft, enough to hang usall.”
“Which might be enough to extradite you to Fjordland,” Yarim said darkly. “And I would likely be sent back to the Empire in chains, which would mean certain death forme.”
Wellion snorted. “So your reputations are not as lily-white as you pretend after all.” Shaking his head, he pointed to a wig shop across the square. “I’d suggest we stop in there before we do any more digging around,” he said, looking pointedly at Yarim. “Clearly, I am not the only one in need of a permanent disguise aroundhere.”
