Free The Hidden Coronet by Catherine Fisher Page A

Halfway down the sound came again, closer, but in complete silence. No one called or yelled.
    He slowed, sweating, letting the panic go. Stupid. There were no Watch on Sarres.
    Or rather, just the one.
    Ducking under the trees he came through the small iron gate onto the lawns and saw Carys. She had set up a circle of wood on a rickety open ladder and was aiming at it, standing well back. As he watched, her finger tightened on the trigger; from here he could see her one eye close, feel the strain of concentration swell inside her like a bright bubble. Then it burst, instantly, and the bolt thumped into the wood.
    Carys bent and picked another out of the grass. She looked over.
    “What are you doing?” he asked.
    She slotted the bolt in. “Stupid question. You can see.”
    “Yes, but I mean why?”
    “To keep my hand in.” She tucked the smooth hair behind one ear. “And to be ready for when we go.”
    “We’re not going till after the Feast,” he said, his heart cold. “And Carys, you can’t come!”
    She grinned at him. “Oh can’t I?”
    “Your picture was on that death-list!”
    To his surprise she just laughed. “Of course it was! Don’t worry, Raffi. I can cut my hair and change its color. They taught us all about that.”
    “You can’t change your face.”
    “You’d be surprised how bad people’s memories are. I’ll take my chance.” She wound the bolt back rapidly.
    He wandered over, knowing it was useless to argue. “You’d be safe here.”
    “I’m coming. If Galen’s going after this Coronet, then so am I.” She aimed deliberately. Watching, he felt the weight of the bow in his mind; then he opened his third eye and from the target saw the bolt explode into his chest with a wooden thump.
    “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Why weren’t we on that list? Galen and me?”
    “They don’t have drawings of you.”
    “Braylwin would have described us. They could have made some sort of picture.”
    She looked at him, thinking. “There are lots of lists. Still, you’re right. It’s odd.”
    A mere-duck flew over, its red tail flashing. She whipped up the bow, following it down among the trees.
    “Don’t,” he muttered, nervous.
    Carys looked at him irritably. “It’s not loaded.”
    “I’m very glad of that!” Marco was walking through the trees. In the last few days his wounds had almost healed; looking at him now Raffi saw a stocky, broad-shouldered man in the too-tight red jerkin Tallis had found for him. Red of face too, a bold, blunt, cheery face. He sat himself down next to them.
    “Now, I’d love to know why a scholar of the Order needs to practice with a crossbow. Maybe if I wasn’t a hated relic-dealer, and in Galen’s opinion lower than the muck on his boot, I’d ask.”
    Raffi frowned. Carys laughed. Lowering the bow she kneeled on the grass. “I’m not a scholar. I’m ex-Watch. A bit like you, I suppose.”
    “Ex-Watch!” Marco looked curious. “I didn’t think they allowed any ‘ex.’”
    She shrugged.
    After a silence he said, “My friend Solon tells me we’ll only be here three more days. Until after the Feast of the Field of Gold. Whatever that is.”
    Raffi looked appalled. “You don’t know?”
    Marco lay back on one elbow, ankles crossed. “Should I?” he teased.
    “It’s Flain’s return. From the Underworld. From the dead.”
    “Oh.” Marco winked at Carys. “I see. From the dead !”
    Raffi felt himself going red. The man was making fun of him. And the Makers. It made him angry. “It’s important,” he muttered fiercely. “It’s the first day of spring.”
    “I’m sure it is. Where would we be without the Makers.”
    Raffi scrambled up.
    “Wait. I’m sorry.” Marco sat upright, his grin suddenly gone. “Really, Raffi. I shouldn’t poke fun at you. Not after you all but took my head out of the noose. It’s just . . .” He shook his head in irritation. “How an intelligent man like Solon can believe all that nonsense .