Before the Sky Fell

[ 22 ] Roselyn's Ashes

-22-

Roselyn's Ashes

The afternoon was ripe for a ceremony. A gentle wind flowed through the city, carrying the scent of roasted fowl, freshly baked bread, and cinnamon. The sky was clear, but for the looming crack in the heavens. Charlotte Tate would be able to witness Marg's ceremony without the threat of rain.

She grabbed Whik's hand and led him through the mass of city folk in the courtyard. She knew few in Eckrondale, and the thought of her cabin sitting empty in the hills of Tannuchi made her wistful. She wanted to leave now, Geoffrey Marg with her, have a pint in Margarie's tavern like it used to be. But when people aren't trying to survive, politics are born, and politics gave Geoffrey Marg a castle.

The city seemed pregnant with joyfulness. Even in the bustle of the cooks carrying the feast to the dining halls and the merchants humming merrily, she felt like an outcast. A gathering of women held their song books in hand, bellowing a song Charlotte had never heard before. Men pushed barrows full of flour through the streets. I can sing better than that damn choir. And the instruments, the damned instruments.

They should have held the ceremony months ago. Everyone knew Geoffrey Marg was fit for the job and most everyone accepted it. Few wanted to lead when one wrong decision meant an uproar. Even fewer wanted to consider the possibility of thousands upon thousands of Larks just an ocean away. This was supposed to be a new start. Sebolt was supposed to be better than Eckrondale, safer, friendlier, void of greed. But bad people bring bad tidings, and there was no doubting that Eckrondale could house both.

Charlotte led Whik to the western wall. The boy ran up to the bastion ledge and jumped onto an overturned box of moldy peaches. The fruit was smashed beneath the wooden panels. There's always a bad box. There's always a rotten peach.

Horns sounded through the courtyard. Commotion followed. Foolish men held foolish fruit and juggled the edibles while children watched. It was as if they'd never endured a savage invasion. This is good, Charlotte tried to tell herself. This is distraction. But distraction would only lead to destruction if it lasted forever. They needed to wake up.

Silence fell across the crowd. Geoffrey walked out of the keep and up the stairs to the platform. The foolish men caught their apples and realized their audience had abandoned them.

Whik tugged at Charlotte's woolen trousers. "What is so important about today?"

"Hush," Charlotte said. "It's a ceremony for Geoffrey Marg. We're declaring him our leader."

Charlotte scanned the crowd, watching some women rocking their babes back and forth in their bosoms in an attempt to ensure silence. Children laughed near the Thornbristle Inn and swung from the aged rope that hung from the sign.She had attempted to coax Whik into playing with the other children, but he still showed little interest. It seemed he would rather make up his own friends or talk to Carter.

"People of Sebolt," Marg said, splitting the stillness. "Today is a monumental day. We have cleared the last remnants of death and rot from Sebolt's shores. Today we declare this city open for all who choose to move north."

The crowd released a lackluster round of applause. Charlotte grimaced.Addressing the public was not one of Marg's strengths. She would tell him how inspiring he was, how articulate, but he would just laugh in her face and pour himself a pint.

Marg walked along the platform, peering down at each face in the crowd. He looked kingly in his gold tunic lined with white trim, his black surcoat fastened at the waist. "I am not one for thrones and royal courts. Today is a day for all of us, as equals; we must enjoy the second chance we have been given. We must take the ways of the past, the ways of the life we established in Hemonstalia, and resurrect it here."