thing has happened? Music? I've been down this road with you before, Alessan. I don't like it."
"Actually, I'm quite certain the Festival will go on." It was Sandre. "Alberico is cautious almost before he is anything else. I think tonight will redouble that in him. He will allow the people their celebrations, let those from the distrada scatter and go home, then slam down hard immediately after. But only on the three families that were here, I suspect. It is, frankly, what I would do myself."
"Taxes?" Alessan asked.
"Perhaps. He raised them after the Canziano poisoning, but that was different. An actual assassination attempt in a public place. He didn't have much choice. I think he'll narrow it this time, there will be enough bodies for his wheels among the three families here."
Devin found it unsettling how casually the Duke spoke of such things. This was his kin they were discussing. His oldest son, grandchildren, nephews, nieces, cousins, all to be fodder for Barbadian killing-wheels. Devin wondered if he would ever grow as cynical as this. If what had begun tonight would harden him to that degree. He tried to think of his brothers on a death-wheel in Asoli and found his mind flinching away from the very image. Unobtrusively he made the warding sign against evil.
The truth was, he was upset just thinking about Menico, and that was merely a matter of costing the man money, nothing more. People moved from troupe to troupe all the time. Or left to start their own companies. Or retired from the road into a business that offered them more security. There would be performers who would be expecting him to go on his own after his success this morning. That should have been a helpful thought, but it wasn't. Somehow Devin hated to make it appear as if they were right.
Something else occurred to him. "Won't it look a bit odd, too, if we disappear right after the mourning rites? Right after Alberico's unmasked a plot that was connected with them? We're sort of linked to the Sandreni now in a way. Should we draw attention to ourselves like that? It isn't as if our disappearance won't be noticed."
He said it, for some reason, to Baerd. And was rewarded a moment later with a brief, sober nod of acknowledgment.
"Now that cloth I will buy," Baerd said. "That does make sense, though I'm sorry to say it."
"A good deal of sense," Sandre agreed. Devin fidgeted a little as he came under the scrutiny of those dark, sunken eyes. "The two of you", the Duke gestured at Devin and Catriana, "may yet redeem your generation for me."
This time Devin refused to look at the girl. Instead his glance went over to the corner where Sandre's grandson lay by the second, dying fire, his throat slashed by a family blade.◢◢文◢檔◢共◢享◢與◢在◢線◢閱◢讀◢
Alessan broke the silence with a deliberate cough. "There is also," he said in a curious tone, "another argument entirely. Only those who have spent as many nights outdoors as I have can properly appreciate the depth, as it were, of my preference for a soft bed at night. In short," he concluded with a grin, "your eloquence has quite overcome me, Devin. Lead me back to Menico at the inn. Even a bed shared with two syrenya-players who snore in marginal harmony is a serious improvement over cold ground beside Baerd's relative silence."
Baerd favored him with a forbidding glare. One that Alessan appeared to weather quite easily. "I will refrain," Baerd said darkly, "from a recitation of your own nocturnal habits. I will wait here alone for Duke Sandre to return. We'll have to burn this lodge tonight, for obvious reasons. There's a body that will otherwise be missing when the servants come back in the morning. We'll meet the three of you by the cache three mornings from now, as early as you see fit to rise from your pillows. Assuming," he added with heavy sarcasm, "that soft city living doesn't prevent you from being able to find the cache."
"I'll find it if he gets lost," Catriana said.
Alessan looked from one to the other of them, his e