The exception ° Six of crows

Chapter nine

"Knowledge is power"

The next day most of Adelaine's energy had returned although the pounding migraine she had certainly was distracting. Kaz hadn't allowed her to carry anything, nor was he letting her more than a foot away from him. She could feel his worried gaze burning into the back of her neck from where she walked next to Wylan.

It took two more days of travel to reach the cliffs that overlooked Djerholm, but the going was easier as they moved south and towards the coast. The weather warmed, the ground thawed, and she began to see signs of spring. Djerholm's harbour was crowded with ships, but its tidy streets marched to the water in an orderly fashion, and the houses were painted such colours – red, blue, yellow, pink – as if in defiance of the wild white land and the long winters this far north. Even the warehouses by the quay were wrought in cheerful colours.

"Cannon," said Jesper suddenly.

Kaz squinted up at the big guns pointed out at the bay. "I've broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds. But I've never had a cannon shot at me."

"First t-t-time for everything," Adelaine muttered causing Wylans lip to twitch slightly upward.

"There's something to be said for novelty," offered Jesper.

Inej pressed her lips together. "Hopefully, it won't come to that."

"Those guns are there to stop invading armadas," Jesper said confidently. "Good luck hitting a skinny little schooner cutting through the waves bound for fortune and glory."

"I'll quote you on that when a cannonball lands in my lap," said Nina.

They slipped easily into the traffic of travellers and traders where the cliff road met the northern road that led to Upper Djerholm. The upper town was a rambling extension of the city below, a sprawling collection of shops, markets, and inns that served the guards and staff who worked at the Ice Court as well as visitors. Luckily, the crowds were heavy and motley enough that one more group of foreigners could go unnoticed. Adelaine blended in fairly well with her blonde hair and blue eyes but she had worried about Jesper being dangerously conspicuous.

Signs of Hringkälla celebrations were everywhere. The shops had created elaborate displays of pepper cookies baked in the shape of wolves, some hanging like ornaments from large, twisting trees, and the bridge spanning the river gorge had been festooned with ribbons in Fjerdan silver. One way into the Ice Court and one way out. Would they cross this bridge as visitors tomorrow?

"What are they?" Wylan asked, pausing in front of a peddler's cart laden with wreaths made of the same twisting branches and silver ribbons.

"Ash trees," replied Matthias. "Sacred to Djel."

"There's supposed to be one in the middle of the White Island," said Nina, ignoring the warning look the Fjerdan cast her. "It's where the drüskelle gather for the listening ceremony."

Kaz tapped his walking stick on the ground. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

Adelaine glanced up to him, worried that this would cause problems with the plan but Kaz gave her a reassuring look.

"The ash is sustained by the spirit of Djel," said Matthias. "It's where we may best hear his voice."

Kaz's eyes flickered. "Not what I asked. Why isn't it on our plans?"

"Because it's the holiest place in all of Fjerda and not essential to our mission."

​​"I say what's essential. Anything else you decided to leave out in your great wisdom?"