scouring the surrounding countryside and clearing it of danger.’
‘But with all that activity, won’t the mages guess that something is up?’ I asked.
‘Aye, lad, they might – but they won’t know exactly what. It’s far better than allowing their spies to report back to the Staigue on our departure from the house and the direction we take.’
* * *
The Land Alliance men returned at dusk, declaring the whole area to be safe. So, leaving the dogs and our bags behind, the Spook, Alice and I set off for Killorglin under cover of darkness, in the company of about a dozen burly men under Shey’s command.
We travelled on foot, through the mountains, following a slow arc as we climbed northeast, a heavy cold drizzle slowly turning the trail to mud. As dawn approached, we skirted the shore of a large lake before reaching the small town of Killarney. We took refuge in a barn on the outskirts, and slept through the daylight hours before setting off again.
By now the rain had stopped and the going was easier. Soon we were following the banks of the mist-shrouded river Laune, and we arrived on the outskirts of Killorglin long before dawn. Making camp in a large muddy field on the edge of the town, we joined scores of others who had arrived in anticipation of the Puck Fair. Warming our hands by the fire, we asked Farrell Shey about the large numbers of people already gathering.
‘I’m surprised to see so many here this early,’ said the Spook. ‘The fair itself is still several days away.’
In the grey dawn light the field was bustling with activity. Some had set up stalls and were selling food: strings of sausages, onions and carrots. There were a large number of animals too – horses were being galloped up and down the field, presenting a great risk to those on foot.
‘These people don’t seem to be starving,’ I commented.
‘There are always some who prosper, however bad things get,’ Shey replied. ‘Believe me, there are a lot of hungry mouths out there. Many folk will be too weak to walk to Killorglin. Despite that, the fair gets bigger every year. Winter or summer makes no difference: even in bad weather, hundreds are drawn here. They come from miles around. Many are traders who bring animals to sell or barter, but there are also tinkers and fortune-tellers, as well as thieves – particularly cut-purses. The town quickly becomes too full to accommodate them all. This field is just one of many that will eventually be filled to bursting.’
‘What about the mages?’ asked the Spook.
‘They will have commandeered most of the accommodation in the town – particularly overlooking the triangular market at its centre, where the platform is erected. For the duration of the main festival, Killorglin effectively belongs to them. But this time we’ll give them a surprise!’
We entered the town late in the morning, jostling through the narrow streets towards its centre, where a market was being held. The stalls were packed tightly into the cobbled heart of Killorglin. Most small towns had a square or rectangular market area, but this was indeed triangular; it sloped away towards a lane that led down a steep hill to a distant river and bridge.
Shey had donned a rough woollen cloak to hide his fine clothes and nobody gave us a second glance. We mingled with the throng of people while he hired a room in what seemed to be the smallest and shabbiest of the many inns overlooking the busy market. We quickly appreciated that it was an excellent choice for, unlike the majority of the other inns, it was accessed from a street parallel to the western edge of the cobbled triangle, and we could enter and leave without being noticed by anyone in the marketplace.
‘This is the last inn the mages are likely to choose,’ Shey said, smoothing back his white hair. ‘They like their comfort and are also protective of their status – only the very best for them. If it’s been booked at all, this place will
‘But with all that activity, won’t the mages guess that something is up?’ I asked.
‘Aye, lad, they might – but they won’t know exactly what. It’s far better than allowing their spies to report back to the Staigue on our departure from the house and the direction we take.’
* * *
The Land Alliance men returned at dusk, declaring the whole area to be safe. So, leaving the dogs and our bags behind, the Spook, Alice and I set off for Killorglin under cover of darkness, in the company of about a dozen burly men under Shey’s command.
We travelled on foot, through the mountains, following a slow arc as we climbed northeast, a heavy cold drizzle slowly turning the trail to mud. As dawn approached, we skirted the shore of a large lake before reaching the small town of Killarney. We took refuge in a barn on the outskirts, and slept through the daylight hours before setting off again.
By now the rain had stopped and the going was easier. Soon we were following the banks of the mist-shrouded river Laune, and we arrived on the outskirts of Killorglin long before dawn. Making camp in a large muddy field on the edge of the town, we joined scores of others who had arrived in anticipation of the Puck Fair. Warming our hands by the fire, we asked Farrell Shey about the large numbers of people already gathering.
‘I’m surprised to see so many here this early,’ said the Spook. ‘The fair itself is still several days away.’
In the grey dawn light the field was bustling with activity. Some had set up stalls and were selling food: strings of sausages, onions and carrots. There were a large number of animals too – horses were being galloped up and down the field, presenting a great risk to those on foot.
‘These people don’t seem to be starving,’ I commented.
‘There are always some who prosper, however bad things get,’ Shey replied. ‘Believe me, there are a lot of hungry mouths out there. Many folk will be too weak to walk to Killorglin. Despite that, the fair gets bigger every year. Winter or summer makes no difference: even in bad weather, hundreds are drawn here. They come from miles around. Many are traders who bring animals to sell or barter, but there are also tinkers and fortune-tellers, as well as thieves – particularly cut-purses. The town quickly becomes too full to accommodate them all. This field is just one of many that will eventually be filled to bursting.’
‘What about the mages?’ asked the Spook.
‘They will have commandeered most of the accommodation in the town – particularly overlooking the triangular market at its centre, where the platform is erected. For the duration of the main festival, Killorglin effectively belongs to them. But this time we’ll give them a surprise!’
We entered the town late in the morning, jostling through the narrow streets towards its centre, where a market was being held. The stalls were packed tightly into the cobbled heart of Killorglin. Most small towns had a square or rectangular market area, but this was indeed triangular; it sloped away towards a lane that led down a steep hill to a distant river and bridge.
Shey had donned a rough woollen cloak to hide his fine clothes and nobody gave us a second glance. We mingled with the throng of people while he hired a room in what seemed to be the smallest and shabbiest of the many inns overlooking the busy market. We quickly appreciated that it was an excellent choice for, unlike the majority of the other inns, it was accessed from a street parallel to the western edge of the cobbled triangle, and we could enter and leave without being noticed by anyone in the marketplace.
‘This is the last inn the mages are likely to choose,’ Shey said, smoothing back his white hair. ‘They like their comfort and are also protective of their status – only the very best for them. If it’s been booked at all, this place will
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