"This year, no one gets his fortune told," Carroway said as he slipped up behind Tris. A parade of mourners carrying mannequins and puppets to resemble the dead wound their way through the crowd with song and the jangle of bells.
"You made a better-looking corpse than that," Soterius said, nodding at the figures held by several of the robed celebrants, "but damn you were heavy!"
Even now, Tris's memories of the escape were blurry, save for the piercing amber eyes of the Childe goddess whom he had glimpsed in the crowd, and whose murmured incantation had healed him.
The fire in the bailey burned high and bright, and revelers danced around it. The fire crackled with aromatic herbs to scent the smoke. Well-wishers threw bits of colored rags into the blaze, symbols of their hopes for the new year, counting on their petitions to be heard when the glowing cinders rose on the wind and swirled into the night sky. The castle ghosts, as prominent this night as the soldiers, seemed determined to make up for their absence last year. Tris's dogs ambled about the celebration, snatching up fallen sausages and accepting treats from indulgent party-goers. The mastiff and the wolfhounds trotted up to greet Tris and waited for a pat on the head and a treat.
"Here, you greedy things!" Carroway laughed, tossing each a cracker from his pockets. Both dogs snapped up the treats in mid-air, then looked at their master for more.
Tris smiled. "Go beg," he said, patting the dogs affectionately. "When you're too full to move and your bellies hurt, don't look for sympathy!" The dogs wagged their tails and bounded off through the crowd.
Across the crowded courtyard was a young girl dressed in white. Tris met the girl's amber eyes and knew that she was the Childe.
Even with my blessing, your path is not certain. Sorrow and hardship lie on your journey. Guard well your soul.
Tris blinked and the girl was gone.
"Tris? Tris!" Carroway shook Tris by the arm. "Don't tell me. I'll sleep better if I don't know. But you saw Her again, didn't you. The Lady. Like the night of the coup."
"I don't think this time, good luck alone is going to be enough."
DURING MOST DAYS at Sheketishet, the common room was empty. Between it and the kitchen was a smaller butler's pantry where Carroway and his musicians rehearsed. The room stayed warm due to the large kitchen fireplaces, and it was easy for the musicians to grab a pot of tea or a few hunks of bread and cheese during long rehearsals.
The smells of a rich venison stew and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen as Carroway struggled to tune an obstinate string on his lute.