Page 123 of Silverbow
“No one does anything about it?” She was appalled that there could be so many living in such squalor in plain view of the gilded palace. The hovels of the Foreshore made that leaning barn she slept in look sound.
“No.”
Enya’s incredulity only grew when they passed between the first ramshackle huts of the Foreshore. She had been wrong. They made that leaning barn she slept in look luxurious. They were little more than driftwood and sticks with gaps in the slats wide enough she could see through to single rooms with dirt floors.
Then she heard Arawelo’s hooves squelch in the mud and the smell threatened to knock her out of her saddle. Coughing, she bunched the dust scarf up around her nose. Slat ribbed children dressed in rags meandered untended and a dog stalked their shadows. Enya thought she might get fleas just from looking at it, and the mare swished her tail in agitation. She let out a yelp that had Colm reaching for his sword as a rat bigger than any cat she’d ever seen lumbered across the road in no particular hurry.
He leaned over and stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm when she reached for the coin purse at her belt. He jerked his chin toward the haunted faces that looked out at them as they passed.
“Your generosity is admirable, Ansel, but a few coppers in the Foreshore are enough to start a brawl. There are rarely winners. Especially not the children.”
Enya let her hand fall away as she looked at them, swallowing her disgust. It was dreadful. Estryia’s great cities weredreadful. All the places she and Liam had dreamed of were only gilded filth. It was just one more thing to lose, and it was strange how that loss of wonder and a dream seemed to sting as badly as the real losses.
She was relieved when the wall reared up in front of them, if only to escape the eyes that seemed to follow her through the Foreshore. Those eyes seemed to ask how much silver she had in her purse, how much Arawelo might be worth, how muchshewould be worth.
She tried not to think about that as she passed between the crimson clad king’s men and the pair of wielders peering down from the guard towers. Their badges were little more than white flecks from the height, and Enya didn’t dwell on what their gifts might be as they passed quietly through.
Misthol was much like Windcross Wells; too loud, foul smelling, and overly crowded. Much of the city seemed to be bricked in the same brown stone with matching roof tiles, but Enya spotted the occasional wood and thatch. At least all of the streets seemed to be paved in cobblestones, and people were not throwing chamber pots from their windows.
She studied the brightly colored banners and ribbons that were draped over balconies and across narrow alleys. They passed a troop of puppeteers carrying richly crafted beasts and knights to vanquish them with wooden swords. She watched them disappear around a corner, only to see a group of tumblers coming up the street, followed by a man on stilts.
Colm followed her gaze. “We’re two days to Sun Day.”
Enya’s heart stuttered. The official start of summer. At Ryerson House, her father would open up casks of apple cider to sip after a long day in the fields. The families from the surrounding farms would gather in the yard to eat, drink, and dance as Griff played his flute and Oslee’s da sawed his fiddle. But not this year. Not again. There would never again be a Sun Day with her family. Had she known the last would be her last… She gripped the carving in her pocket.
“Are you alright?” Colm asked quietly.
Enya cleared her throat and nodded. “I just…hadn’t realized it’s been so long.”
Weeks had turned into months and yet, Ryerson House felt like a lifetime away. She supposed it was. She had been someone else then. Colm gave her a small, knowing smile as she scrambled to get a handle on the things that wanted to spill out.Later.
“And they celebrate for multiple days here?”
“The official festivities will start tomorrow, but the king pays the players to entertain the crowds. It helps keep the peace.”
Enya wondered why the king needed players to keep the peace, but she let the question die as they pushed through a particularly dense crowd. It made her chest tighten, but it eased as they pressed deeper into the city to a place where the streets were clean and the stablemaster greeted them with a pleasant smile. The painted sign showed a country boy and girl arm-in-arm, and Lemuel Kimball welcomed them to the Gandy Dancer with a deep bow.
“Master Turner, it is good to see you again,” the round man beamed.
Enya’s eyes widened at the fat coin purse Colm pressed into the innkeeper’s palm. Unless costs in the capitol were out of control, which remained a possibility, the heft of it was far greater than they would spend on rooms and meals for a few days.
The innkeeper turned his attention to her and bent at the waist. “My staff is at your disposal, Lady…”
“Ansel.”
“A pleasure, Lady Ansel. Will your other companions be joining you?”
“They’ll be along,” Colm answered. “We’ll require the private dining room for the duration of our stay.”
“Of course, my lord.”
To her relief, Lemuel Kimball didn’t ask how long that was to be.
When Enya was washed and dressed in clothes badly in need of their own washing, she found her way to the dining room Colm had requested. Oryn and the others had arrived while she was upstairs. He looked at her expectantly as she sauntered in. Uncaring, Enya plopped into a chair. Tea had been set out with trays of roasted nuts and fine cheeses. One was laden with little pastries. Enya reached for one drizzled in chocolate.
“You’re going to ruin your dinner,” Aiden chided.
“I’m starving,” she hissed. “What took you so long?”
