Mac blew out a long breath as he and Wyndham crested a snowy rise and gazed down at Carthway. It had been a long time since he’d seen the city with its maze of colorful tents surrounding the two permanent structures. Hundreds of men and women and children with their livestock and wares filled the plain, their voices a rumble of activity that trembled through the still vastness of the mountains.
“Ancient Father above.” Wyndham sat forward in the saddle. “This is amazing.”
“Biggest party this side of the Halyns,” said Mac. And he couldn’t deny that he’d had some great times here.
“How are we going to find Kaelyn in all this?”
Well, he had to give the boy credit–he was determined. And rightly so. The sooner they freed Kaelyn, the sooner he could relax. The sooner both of them could relax, he suspected.
“Come on.” He urged his horse forward. There was only one place Kaelyn and the Meriduinians would be kept and that was the Goddess’s Seat. It lay at the center of Carthway, one of the permanent wood and stone structures that towered about the tents.
They wove through the makeshift streets toward the wooden peak at the city’s heart. Built to resemble an enormous tent, the Goddess’s Seat was where the clan chiefs and shamans met to decide northern affairs. It was likely where they’d agreed to marry a Child of the Goddess to Prince Wyndham to solidify the treaty with Meriduin.
A wide square had been trampled in front of the building, the edges marked with white stone totems representing each of the major clans. In the middle lay a sacred circle, its matching white stones hidden by the snow.
Mac’s gut churned as they approached.
The massive oak doors at the front were open. Council was not in session.
He jumped from the saddle, staggered as he hit the ground but managed to keep his balance, and rushed in.
The vast, round Council chamber was empty. The Goddess’s Seat, a chair carved from a giant pine stump, glowed with sunlight pouring in from a hole cut in the center of the peak. The intricate vine carved on its arms, legs, and back were so delicate and detailed it looked as if they were growing before his eyes.
Wyndham jerked to a halt beside him. “Mac?”
There were other chambers, in the back and underground. If Kaelyn was being held here, that’s where she would be. But there would be guards, someone, on duty. The elders should be deliberating what to do with the Meriduinians. Surely he wasn’t too late.
“Mac?”
He pursed his lips. Wyndham wanted answers–he wanted answers as well–but it didn’t look like any would be found in the empty hall. He sucked in a quick breath. No point panicking until he knew for certain there was something to panic about.
Really.
And if kept thinking that, maybe it would work.
“New plan. I think I need to see a barkeep.”
“I don’t think now is the time for drinking.”
Mac snorted. That didn’t even deserve a reply.
“Well, it might be, but how–?”
“Youth has no patience,” said Mac.
With Wyndham close on his heels, Mac made arrangements with a groom at a makeshift stable-yard to house their mounts and equipment for an hour or two, and strode into the only other permanent building in Carthway, The Inn.
The building had a dozen additions, some two- and three- stories, that created a sense that the building was a life-sized collection of a child’s wooden blocks. Inside, the common room had doubled from its original size fifteen years ago and was still packed with clansmen celebrating the solstice.
“It’s a descriptive name, The Inn. But not overly original,” said Wyndham, leaning beside Mac against the bar, turning his back to the crowded room.
The portly barkeep wiped his hands down the front of his apron and smiled. “Doesn’t have to be. There’s only one in town.”
“And it’s gotten bigger since last I was here.” Mac placed a copper on the bar’s worn surface and slid it toward the barkeep, keeping his finger on top of it.
“A pitcher of the dark or pale ale?”
Tempting, given his sour mood, but not something he was going to succumb to since he’d obtained sobriety–something he owed Kaelyn for.
Mac’s stomach grumbled. Although food would be nice. Maybe later. “Information.”
The barkeep’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of information?”
“We’re looking for some southerners,” said Wyndham.
“Boy, there are a lot of people here. And as much as you lot stick out, unless they’ve wandered into my bar, I’ll not likely notice them until the solstice is over.”
Mac tapped the copper, drawing the barkeep’s attention back to him. “No, these ones are in trouble.”
“Unless you want a drink, keep your southern copper.” He wiped his hands down his apron again as if the thought of taking the money disgusted him. “I haven’t heard of any Meriduinians in trouble.”
“This would have been before the solstice festivities began,” said Wyndham.
“Sorry.” A clansman waved at the barkeep from the far end of the room. “Excuse me.”
Wyndham picked at the wood grain of the bar. “She’s not here.”
“So it would seem.” Of course, since they hadn’t asked a straight question of the barkeep they hadn’t received a straight answer. Which meant Kaelyn could still be incarcerated in Carthway.
“Did Talar lie?”
“I doubt it.”
“Which means?”
“We find a place to stay. Talar can only assume we received his message and traveled to Carthway. He was the one to hear of her last. If she isn’t here, we have to wait for him.”
“Why not head to Angwyn?”
Mac sighed. “We could. And we could also end up traveling in circles trying to find one another.”
“All right, then. A place to stay it is. Where do we find that?”
Mac caught the barkeep’s gaze and motioned him over. “The Inn is the only one in town.”
“That it is. Decided to stay?” asked the barkeep, his tone dark. “It’s a little late to get a room. All I’ve got left is that ridiculous suite my wife told me to add five years ago that no one can afford.”
Swell. There was probably floor space in the common room, but the barkeep obviously didn’t want them around since he hadn’t suggested it. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d camped in the Halyns without a tent.
He slid a glance at Wyndham. Guess he was going to really discover the young Prince’s determination. A few nights sleeping in the snow could weaken many a man’s resolve.
“So, what’ll it be?” asked the barkeep.
“You’re obviously not interested in our southern copper,” said Mac.
The barkeep’s lips drew into a hard line. It likely wasn’t the money he was against, it was the bribe coming from a southerner. Maybe they could work out a deal–labor for the room he couldn’t rent anyway.
“But will you take our gold?” asked Wyndham.
Mac grunted. He should travel with princes more often.
