Turn 84

The previous day:
    "Excellently done!"
    Emmett smiles broadly, but says only "Dinner tonight!" The contribution is well appreciated, and the story is told several times that night.
    In town, ibn Fadil is curious about the shadow he seems to have acquired, but with his "minder" tagging along he doesn't want to try to confront this person. Perhaps if he's still at it during the festival...
    Meanwhile, noticing his own little clutch of followers, Alais has no intention of letting them lurk about; he approaches them and opens conversation, much to their surprise. When they prove willing to respond--albeit nervously and with a great deal of overt respect--he starts telling them all about spelljamming, and the universe around them, and the history of the spheres and races, and stuff like that. Coincidentally enough, these lectures focus almost exclusively on theories that Alais likes, which tend to be out of the mainstream.
    His listeners don't dare ask many questions, but they listen intently and he soon has quite a crowd standing around him in the square. Many are interested in what he can tell them about the other peoples of the spheres; interstellar geography doesn't make a great deal of sense to them, but the idea of neighbors does. A couple of guardsman walk by, pause, shrug, and walk on, baffled.

* * *

    Emmett gets caught completely in the closing parts of the ceremony, stunned by the exuberance these people now display. After a drink or two he strips to the waist - reveal the broad stretch of leathern skin that might in the masquerade for once go unnoticed, jams a sturdy piece of wood over the point of his hook, and offers to wrestle all comers.
    At first there is laughter-- "Don't hurt the little guy!" "What if he gets lost in the snow?" -- but eventually one young man decides to humor the visitor and promptly gets knocked on his butt. After doing that a couple of times the "cripple" is taken more seriously--which is to say, people start betting--and the crowd gets larger and more enthusiastic. It doesn't take too long for him to meet his match of course; the surprise of his strength can only work so many times, and size, skill, and two functional hands do play a role, but everyone is decently impressed and there's toasting all around. Much of the afternoon is a blur of tales told, drinks drunk, and at some point Emmett being dunked head-first in a wine barrel by one of his erstwhile opponents.
    Having made his request the previous day, ibn Fadil also receives a mask in the shape of a fox. He sticks to the quieter parts of the main crowd, feeling properly anonymous for the first time because of the new clothes and mask. He wishes he had dared to bring Nyala along, and keeps an eye out (as best he can with the mask on) for his shadow of the other day, but either he's not there, or he's just too hard to spot in the masked crowds.
    Since there's no way for him to enjoy the party unobtrusively, Yestin makes himself popular with the guards by helping break up fights, sometimes just by doing a bit of looming. He also listens to all the poets and singers he comes across, and regularly shakes his head in amusement over the inability of humans to hold their drink.
    Meanwhile, Alais is having a *fine* old time: 'Excuse me-what is the origin of this custom?' 'Could you explain the motifs used in this costume?' 'What language was that? Could you repeat that last stanza you chanted--I would swear I heard a grammatical construction of Old Elvish." Eventually a junior priest wearing a cat mask is assigned to answer his questions just to keep him from bothering everyone else, and the young man has a hard time of it! It's a chance to learn about the gods here, and the early battles that shaped the world
    As the sun sets things quiet down (a bit), if only because the most determined celebrants have already collapsed and been taken home; there is more singing and less shouting as the fires are allowed to die down. As darkness spreads people gather once again in the main square, where dozens of small wooden casks are being broached.
    The liquid in them is measured out carefully into wooden cups, and no one drinks immediately, but instead waits for the bear-garbed high priest to climb the central platform and lead them in a toast to the king and to their lord, and the crowd then toasts the bear.
    The drink is not quite like anything the travelers have experienced before; cold and somewhat sweet, like drinking starlight, and it considerately gives the drinker several moments to savor the experience before kicking him in the head. It's no wonder they save it for special occasions.
    This is the end of the festival proper, but there is still a week's worth of feasting to look forward to as the local guilds display their wealth and generosity, and rumor says that after that His Lordship might order a hunt.

* * *

    The following morning, the visitors--variously bruised, hung over, and tired--are awakened by a considerable commotion that seems to be sweeping through the castle. It appears that some time last night, four bodies were left in the square, hidden enough by the snow that they were not discovered until dawn. The word "mutilated" recurs, and although there is a certain excitement about this there is also a sense that no one is really *surprised* about it. One of the bodies is that of the young man Pham noticed the other day.
    

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