”You got all of that from Naru?”

Hammen smiled.

“It doesn’t take much to figure out. Actually, Master, I think it’s time simply to get the devil out of here. You’ve had your fun, you’ve bearded the Grand Master, now take your winnings and move on.”

Garth turned and looked over at Hammen and smiled.

“Not yet.”

“Damn it, Garth, you don’t stand a chance. All four Houses and the Grand Master want you for one thing or another. Give it up.”

Garth smiled and said nothing.

“I found out where Norreen is hiding.”

Garth stirred and looked back at him.

“Ah, that got your interest, didn’t it?”

“Where is she?”

“I sneaked out this morning and talked to a couple of lodge brothers. If you want to know anything in a city, make friends with the thieves. They’re up in arms anyhow since the Grand Master broke the code and murdered my friends. The ones who escaped with us yesterday are really spreading trouble. Anyhow, they found her hiding out at the edge of town and are keeping an eye on her. I could get you to her and we could be on our way.”

Garth shook his head and stood up, grabbing hold of Hammen’s hand before the old man could start lashing his chest.

“Enough. Let’s get dressed.”

“Anyhow, if you’re so stupid as to stay, I also found a hiding place for you. It’s right on the Great Plaza.” Hammen paused and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Where the House of Turquoise used to be. It’s the building to the left of the Drunken Dwarfs tavern. It’s a knocking shop.”

“A what?”

“A brothel. One of my innumerable cousins runs the place. He knows you on sight. Just get in there and he’ll take you up to the top floor, which is ours to use.”

“Alone, I trust.”

“If you want it that way.” Hammen sighed.

“Thanks. And make sure your friends keep an eye on Norreen.”

“You’re really taken with her, aren’t you?”

Garth smiled.

“Sort of.”

Hammen cackled and then pointed toward the back door of the steam room. Garth started toward it, smiling as he passed Naru, who was snoring away.

“This heat could kill him,” Garth said and he leaned over to shake the giant awake, but Hammen pushed him on.

As they opened the door Garth stopped at the sight of the pool room.

“This isn’t the way out.” And he started to turn back.

Hammen shouldered into him and Garth, losing his balance, tumbled into the water.

“You’ve yet to get your ice water bath,” Hammen announced calmly as the room echoed with Garth’s roaring curses.

Still cursing under his breath, Garth One-eye formed up with the other fighters of his newly adopted order. Rank on rank they stood, the eighty-seven fighters of the House of Bolk, present for this, the Nine Hundredth and Ninety-Eighth Festival of the Western Realms.

The tension in the audience room was electric as the fighters, resplendent in their brown doeskin tunics, trousers, and leather capes stood in formal ranks of order, their tunic fronts glistening with battle honors won in Festivals past. Garth came into the room quietly, moving toward the back of the four-man-wide column.

“One-eye.”

Garth turned and saw Naru at the front of the line, looking back at him and motioning for him to come up to his side.

“You good fighter, march as Naru’s escort.”

Garth looked over at the ranks and saw that this gesture on the part of the House’s highest fighter had won him more than one additional enemy.

Naru looked back at the other fighters and chuckled.

“He is Naru’s friend, isn’t he?”

Several of the others laughed coldly as Garth moved past their ranks and came to the front of the column to stand to the left of Naru and directly behind the brown-and-gold-striped pennant of the House. Trumpets echoed in the audience room and Garth followed the lead of the others, bowing low as the doors into the private quarters of the Master of the House were flung open to the accompaniment of rolling drums, crashing cymbals, and shrieking pipes.

Garth looked up and could not conceal his amazement.

Fifty warriors, dressed in brown leather armor and helmets, were bearing a massive dais nearly two fathoms across. The platform was ringed with skulls cast from the finest crystal, and set into each of them were eyes of rubies and circlet crowns of spun gold. Atop the dais stood six more warriors and upon their shoulders rested a second, smaller golden platform and throne of silver. Kirlen, however, did not sit on the throne, but rather was hovering above it as if she was sitting upon an invisible cushion, legs crossed, spindly arms folded across her brown and golden surcoat, while above her floated a Kurdasian carpet to act as a sunshade. Resting at the foot of the throne was a golden lockbox that actually seemed to be radiating power. Within it was the yearly tribute of mana bundles from the House of Brown, which would go to the Walker.

Her bearers turned toward the main door and, with the trumpeters lining the corridor blowing a fanfare, the door was flung open. A roaring like an ocean torn by a hurricane thundered into the hallway as Kirlen was carried out into the Great Plaza. Behind her marched a company of Brown warriors, heavily armored, cocked and loaded crossbows at the ready. Next came the servants of the House, bearing flowers, pots of smoking incense, and urns of copper coins to throw to the crowd. Garth watched as Hammen moved in the middle of the procession, a look of disgust on his face as he lugged along a pot of money.

Naru growled out a command and the pennant bearer stepped out from the audience room and into the main corridor. The fighters of Bolk moved forward, already strutting in their pride and arrogance.

Garth marched behind Naru, struggling to hide his disdain for the whole rigmarole. They turned into the main corridor, which was now filled with the sweet smell of incense, and finally stepped out into the blazing light of the noonday sun. As they emerged from the House a thunderous tumult erupted and Garth felt his heart quicken.

The Plaza was packed from end to end with a flood of humanity. The entire city and the hundreds of thousands of visitors, who had traveled from the far corners of the Western Realms and even from beyond the Flowing Seas to witness the fight, were all jammed together. During the night, after the rioting of the day before had been quelled, thousands of laborers had constructed viewing stands lining the procession paths leading to the center of the Plaza and ringing the palace of the Grand Master.

Most of the places were rented to the nobles and well-heeled merchants, so that they could be above the shoving, roiling, stinking crowds. Even as Garth looked around in amazement, one of the viewing stands collapsed and the crowd let out a hearty roar of approval at the downfall of those who thought themselves to be the betters of the mob.

The screaming multitude of Brown supporters pressed in on all sides as the procession made its way into the Great Plaza. The mob around Garth was waving brown pennants or strips of dirty brown cloth, chanting, cursing, hollering, lost in a mad frenzy of joy. As the servants ahead of the fighters made their way through the narrow path held open by ranks of warriors of the Grand Master, the struggling masses pushed and shoved for the copper coins and free admission tickets to the Festival that were being tossed out by the servants. Garth saw an entire urn go tumbling through the air and laughed at Hammen’s effort to be rid of the burden, most likely after filling his own pockets to overflowing first.

“One-eye!”

It was a lone voice but within seconds the cry was picked up and raced through the mob, the chanting rising, swelling, echoing above the hysterical roaring of the cheering mobs who were gathered about the processional paths being taken by the three other Houses.