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y not because I enjoy climbing these goirach hills。〃
〃A tavern？ Why not a hostel； so we can find a bed after we eat？〃
〃Because； begging your pardon； it is not eating that I am thinking about。 I have been aboard that abominable ship longer than I care to think。 I will take my rest after I have indulged my thirst。〃 Cadrach wiped his hand across his mouth and grinned。 Miriamele did not much like the look in his eyes。
〃But there was a tavern every cubit down below 。。。〃 she began。 〃Exactly。 Taverns full of drunken tale…passers and minders of others' business。 I cannot be taking my well…deserved rest in such a place。〃 He turned his back on the moon and began stumping away up the road。 〃e； Malachias。 It is only a little farther； I am sure。〃
It seemed that during Midsummer Festival there was no such thing as an uncrowded tavern； but at least the drinkers in The Red Dolphin were not cheek to cheeky as they were in the dockside inns； only elbow to elbow。
Miriamele gratefully slid down onto a bench set against the far wall and let the wash of conversation and song flow over her。 Cadrach； after putting down his sack and walking stick； moved off to find himself a mug of Traveler's Reward。 He returned after only a moment。
〃Good Malachias； I had forgotten how nearly beggared I am from paying our sea passage。 Do you have a cintis…piece or two I might employ in the removal of thirst？〃
Miriamele dug in her purse and produced a palm full of coppers。 〃Get me some bread and cheese；〃 she said； pouring the coins into the monk's outstretched hand。
As she sat wishing she could take off her wet cloak to celebrate being out of the rain； another group of costumed celebrants banged in through the door； shaking water from their finery and calling for beer。 One of the loudest wore a mask shaped like a red…tongued hound。 As he thumped his fist on a table； his right eye lit on Miriamele for a moment and seemed to pause。 She felt a rush of fear； suddenly remembering another hound mask； and flaming arrows slashing through the forest shadows。 But this dog quickly turned back to his fellows； making a jest and throwing his head back in laughter； his cloth ears swinging。
Miriamele pushed her hand against her chest as if to slow down her speeding heart。 I must keep this hood on； she told herself。 It's a festival night； so who will look twice？ Better that than someone recognizing my face…however unlikely that might seem。
Cadrach was gone a surprisingly long time。 Miriamele was just starting to feel restive； wondering if she should go and look for him； when he returned with a jar of ale in each hand。 A half…loaf of bread and an end of cheese were prisoned between the jars。
〃A man could die of thirst a…waiting for beer； tonight；〃 the monk said。
Miriamele ate greedily； then took a long swallow of the ale； which was bitter and dark in her mouth。 The rest of the jar she left for Cadrach； who did not protest。
When the last crumbs were licked from her fingers and she was pondering whether she was hungry enough to eat a pigeon pie； a shadow fell across the bench she and the monk shared。
The raw…boned face of Death stared down at them from a black cowl。
Miriamele gasped and Cadrach sputtered ale on his gray robe； but the stranger in the skull mask did not move。
〃A very pretty joke； friend；〃 Cadrach said angrily； 〃and merry mid…summer to you； too。〃 He swiped at the front of his garments。
The mouth did not move。 The flat； unexcited voice issued from behind the bared teeth。 〃You e with me。〃
Miriamele felt the skin on the back of her neck crawl。 Her recently…consumed meal felt very heavy in her stomach。
Cadrach squinted。 She could see tension in his neck and fingers。 〃And who might you be； mummer？ Were you truly Brother Death； I would expect you clad in finer clothing。〃 The monk pointed a slightly trembling finger at the tattered black cloak the figure wore。
〃Stand up and e with me；〃 the apparition said。 〃I have a knife。 If you shout； things will be very bad for you。〃
Brother Cadrach looked at Miriamele and grimaced。 They rose； the princess on wobbly knees。 Death gestured for them to walk ahead； through the press of tavern guests。
Miriamele was entertaining disconnected thoughts of making a bolt for freedom when two other figures slipped discreetly out of the crowd near the doorway。 One wore a blue mask and the stylized garb of a sailor； the other was dressed as a rustic peasant in an oversized hat。 The somber eyes of the newers belied their gaudy costumes。
With the sailor and peasant on either side； Cadrach and Miriamele followed black…cloaked Death out into the street。 Before they had gone three dozen paces； the little caravan turned into an alley and down a flight of stairs to the next street below。 Miriamcle slipped for a moment on one of the rainwashed stone steps and felt a thrill of horror as her skull…faced captor reached out a hand to steady her。 The touch was fleeting and she could not draw away without falling down； so she suffered it silently。 A moment later they were off the stairway； then quickly into another alleyway； up a ramp； and around a corner。
Even with the faint moon overhead and the cries of late revelers echoing from the tavern above and the harbor district below； Miriamele quickly lost any sense of where she was。 They traveled down tiny back streets like a string of skulking cats； ducking in and out of hidden courtyards and vine…shrouded walkways。 From time to time they heard the murmur of voices from a darkened house； and once the sound of a woman crying。
At last they reached an arched gateway in a tall stone wall。 Death produced a key from his pocket and opened the lock。 They stepped through into an overgrown courtyard roofed with leaning willow trees； from whose trailing branches rainwater dripped patiently onto the cracked stone cobbles。 The leader turned to the others； gestured briefly with his key； then indicated that Miriamele and Cadrach should walk ahead of him toward a shadowed doorway。
〃We have e with you so far； man；〃 the monk said； whispering as if he； too； were a conspirator。 〃But there is no benefit to us in walking into an ambush。 Why should we not fight you here and die beneath open sky； if we must be dying？〃
Death leaned forward without a word。 Cadrach started back； but the skull…masked man only leaned past him and knocked on the door with black…gloved knuckles； then pushed it inward。 It swung open silently on oiled hinges。
A dim； warm light burned inside the portal。 Miriamele stepped past the monk and through the doorway。 Cadrach followed a moment later； muttering to himself。 Skull…face came last of all and pushed the door shut behind him。
It was a small sitting room； lit only by a fire in the grate and one candle burning in a dish beside a decanter of wine on the table top。 The walls were covered with heavy velvet tapestries； their designs distinguishable in the firelight only as swirls of color。 Behind the table； in a high backed chair； sat a figure fully as strange as any of their escorts： a tall man in a russet…brown cloak； wearing the sharp…featured mask of a fox。 The fox leaned forward； indi