The Riddle - Alison Croggon [27]
At last she entered a long, narrow hall hung with intricately fashioned silver lamps that let down clear pools of light over a table that ran the entire length of the room. Underneath the light farthest from Maerad sat Cadvan, his head bent over a scroll spread open on the table. Opposite him, Nerili leafed steadily through a heavy book.
Maerad paused irresolutely at the threshold, wondering whether to enter and greet them. Neither Bard had noticed her presence; they were deeply absorbed in their work. There was a self-sufficiency in their silent companionship that she was too shy to disturb. In the end, she retraced her steps, trying to quell a small bitterness that had risen in her throat. In all their evenings of discussion, Cadvan had never mentioned that Nerili was helping him in his search of the library.
On Midsummer Day, the sun rose into a sky as perfectly blue as a robin’s egg. The winding alleys and small streets of Busk were packed with people, with the rest of the town seemingly out on their balconies, drinking and eating and waving and gossiping. Everyone had put on their best clothes, and the streets were a carnival of color, shimmering with the blazing silks woven and dyed in Busk: emerald green and crimson and gold and azure and turquoise.
The crowds made Maerad feel breathless; she’d never seen so many people squeezed into such tiny spaces. As they pressed through the narrow streets, she drew close to Cadvan, who was shouldering his way steadily toward the waterfront, where the procession was to take place later that day. The farther they pushed into town, the more crowded and noisy and hot it became. Children who wanted to get through simply wiggled their way between people’s legs. Some wore astounding masks made of dyed feathers and silk. Others simply had their faces painted, and were little foxes and cats and owls and flowers. Most of them clutched beribboned treasures: silk bags of sweets or toffee apples, especially made to be “stolen” from the market stalls.
Nobody was in a hurry, and Maerad and Cadvan were often stopped for conversation, or waved over to balconies to share a drink. They smilingly refused and pressed on. Eventually they reached their destination, the Copper Mermaid, the Bards’ favorite tavern, where they were meeting some friends who had sworn they would keep places for them. You could hear the Bards even over the noise of the crowd: a makilon player and a drummer were playing in the garden, and revelers spilled out, talking and laughing, over the garden and down to the waterfront.
Maerad looked with relief out to the sea, which was the only place not packed with people. A breeze played over the waves and cooled the sweat on her forehead.
“I didn’t realize there were so many people in the world,” she said, wiping her hair out of her eyes, once they had sat down.
“They’re not usually so close together,” said Cadvan. He poured her some minted lemon water. “Well, now that we’re here, we need not move until it’s time for the Rite of Renewal. We can just eat and watch the pageant.”
And it was some spectacle. They had prime seats, high on the balcony of the Copper Mermaid. Maerad and Cadvan agreed it was much better than jostling at the front, getting poked by old women with parasols and being trodden on. The gardens stretched before them in a series of terraces crowded with tables and chairs, down to the Elakmirathon, the harborside road bounded on one side by the long quay and on the other by rows of taverns and workshops and, farther on, by the open markets.
As the afternoon wore on, more and more people swelled the crowds along the Elakmirathon. Lamos, the proprietor of the Copper Mermaid, shut his gates so no one else could get in, and still people climbed over the walls. All the balconies and roofs along the waterfront, every available wall and window were festooned with people, all talking and laughing. Despite a cool breeze coming in off the sea, the press of people made it uncomfortably hot. Looking at the crowd, Maerad wondered aloud why nobody was crushed.