Chapter 6. The Spring Festival

"Richard, get up!" the young man jumped up and saw Veya. She was smiling and looking at him. "The merchants have arrived! The Spring Festival is waiting!" his cousin happily reported, slowing him down.

The brother was delighted with this news; he even jumped out of bed. Lately, he hadn't even thought about travelers and the fair, because his head was busy with other things.

"Well," he muttered sleepily, not yet fully awake. "It's good that the merchants have reached us!" Richard began to think that he and Veya would do well to have a little fun, finally spend time together, buy something, and listen to the news. The last one is the most important. Did the merchants see anything strange on the way here?

After breakfast, they went out into the yard. They had to work on the beds. Wagons were moving along the road that skirted their property toward Bertleben. There was singing, laughter, music, the grinding of wheels, and the neighing of horses.

"And what is all this fuss about? Nothing special—" his father grumbled irritably, casting angry glances at the procession of merchants. And Richard and Veya could not take their eyes off the minstrels in beautiful costumes, bright trailers, circus performers, and buffoons. They accompanied their procession with dancing, juggling, and demonstrations of all kinds of miracles.

"They look happy," Veya said as the last cart, decorated with colorful ribbons and flags, passed. "That's good, so everything is quiet in Meriel," she finished.

"Yes, you're right," said Richard, as he began to place seedlings in the loosened ground. But now he was worried that he wouldn't be able to escape into the forest today. After all, strangers will wander around Bertleben, and if so, someone will notice him. He promised Veya they would go to the festival together.

Another young man was going to find out something about elves from travelers. After all, they are in different parts of the country. Maybe they have heard something interesting. You need to do it carefully, without shaking too much.

He caught Veya's thoughtful gaze on him. She narrowed her eyes and quickly turned away, pretending to be extremely interested in the flower stalk. Richard had noticed his cousin looking at him like that several times before. It's like she's trying to read his mind or even found out about his secret. No, it can't be!

When the work was done, Richard and Veya went to the house. The lunch was very tasty. Aurora and Eva did their best; the table was just bursting with viands. Here you have a roasted pig, vegetable soup, and apple pie, as well as various sweets.

After a festive dinner in honor of the arrival of spring, the brother and sister were busy with household chores until the evening, and after changing into new clothes, they went to Bertleben together.

Bonfires and torches light up the whole town. The sun had almost disappeared behind the hills, which plunged everything into a pleasant pinkish twilight. There was a corresponding mood in the air, flavored with the smell of last year's baked apples, honey, and hops. Everyone welcomed the arrival of spring, expecting a rich harvest, happiness, health, and longevity from it.

Merchants were located on the outskirts of the city. Their colorful tents and carts surrounded Bertleben in the ring.

The children, with a cheerful hubbub, rushed from one tent to another, and the burgomeister's soldiers, keeping order, slowly walked around their posts.

Musicians played, comic duels on wooden sabers were arranged everywhere. Everyone danced around the bonfires, holding hands. Fakirs waved torches, and acrobats showed various tricks to the enthusiastic shouts of others.

Richard and Veya just had their eyes running away. They moved along the tents, looking at all kinds of goods and talking with merchants. Their wallets were soon empty. Veya bought simple but beautiful jewelry made of wood, and the guy took a new hunting knife with a leather braid; the scabbard was also made of it. It would come in handy, especially since his old knife remained with Ilda.

There were various rumors and conversations, but none of the merchants said anything about any oddities, and it was impossible to ask Veya directly. She would cling to this topic and not fall behind until Richard laid everything out for her.

Merchants from distant lands were not observed; they came from the capital or nearby towns. Their dialect was the same as in Bertleben, and their attire and goods did not indicate that they were foreigners.

"Richard, look!" Veya waved her hand in the direction where the archery tournament was taking place.

"Which one of you has an eye like an eagle?" a stout man in a red doublet shouted, beckoning passers-by. "Whoever can hit the target will get a prize! Thirty args!"

The sister and brother approached the shooting range. Many who had already participated in the competition, but did not win, walked away, shaking their heads in frustration.

"Well, shall we try?" Veya asked.

"I think I'll pass," her brother said, with a shake of his head. "I'm not a very good shooter. But I'll be rooting for you!"

"As you wish," Veya shrugged, moving closer to the hulking man.

"Do you want to try your luck, young lady?" he asked with a grin, holding out his hand and demanding a contribution. "Only five args."

Veya said nothing and paid him, taking the bow and arrow from his hands. Together with her, three more men came out to the line drawn on the ground. Richard and the other onlookers froze, looking at the archers.

"Get ready!" the fat man ordered.

Veya put an arrow in the bow and pulled the string.

The targets were located quite far away, in addition, it began to get dark, and the reflections of the flame made it difficult to aim. The girl squinted, the arrow broke off, and, spinning, rushed to the target. Everyone could see even from afar: the arrow fired by the girl hit right in the center of the target. The other shooters had much worse results, one of them even fired an arrow in the wrong direction, and it flew into the field.

The guy joined in the cheers and whistles. The fat man, wincing, handed Veya a cash prize of thirty args.

"I'm lucky today!" Veya smiled maliciously, taking her winnings from him.

"Wow! How did you manage it?!" Richard asked admiringly as his sister approached him. "I've never seen such a good shooter!"

"Nothing special. I was just practicing passing the time while you were lost in the forest," Veya replied modestly, lowering her eyes. "Not, all the same, to read 'Heartfelt sorry' and scrub the floors?"

"You're just great!"

"Thanks! And now..." she saw her friends and, slowing down her step, grabbed her brother by the sleeve.

"Oh," Veya said softly. "I have no desire to talk to them, especially with Nora, I need to leave quickly!"

But the girls have already noticed them. They looked at Richard, whispered to each other, and giggled loudly. Nora Berett didn't seem so beautiful to him, and her bubbly laugh was inappropriate and even completely disgusting.

"I'll have to come over," Veya muttered with displeasure. "I'll try to get rid of them now, and you wait for me at Evan's Tavern, okay?"

"All right! Thank you for saving me from these hungry predators!" Richard winked at her and, turning around, wandered in the opposite direction, clearly hearing his sister's friends loudly discussing him, other guys, and dancing.

It became dark. Long, uneven shadows spread across the ground, many bonfires went out, and people began to disperse to all corners. Richard was walking toward the only tavern that was not far away.

He approached a low building with a large veranda. A nondescript sign by the door read: 'Evan's Tavern'.

As soon as the doors opened, Richard smelled the strong aroma of tobacco and an intoxicating drink. Without hesitation, he went inside. Round tables are arranged around wooden pillars supporting the ceiling. A fire crackled merrily in the big fireplace. Beer and wine flowed like rivers. The fun was in full swing. The laughter, singing, hum, and uproar were unimaginable.

No one paid any attention to the young man. He slipped unnoticed past the tipsy farmers and settled down at a table in the darkest corner.

"I ask for your attention!" Richard turned around and saw Innkeeper Evan, who had come out from behind his counter. He held up his hand, calling everyone to silence. Next to him stood a thin, gloomy man who had not taken off his hood.

Everyone became quiet and turned their eyes on them.

"Our guest wants to share the latest news with us," the innkeeper continued, and stepped aside.

"Good evening, if we can say, my friends! After all, things are not as good in Meriel as they seem at first glance," the man in black began, and a whisper flew through the hall. "A lot of strange things have been happening lately!"

Richard listened, in case this wanderer would say something important.

"Various creatures have appeared in our lands, who roam freely wherever they please! Where did jarhis, sorcerers, and others come from? And many more claim that they have seen elves with their own eyes! I think all these creatures are preparing some kind of conspiracy..." he whispered. The narrator exclaimed angrily, using accents to scare the audience. "Yes, they will also use their magic to drive out cattle or arrange a drought. They are already attacking the northern villages and towns, destroying them! We are in terrible danger! They are back again and want revenge!" he licked his lips nervously. "We need to seek protection from our king, only he can protect us! And I ask for your support and help..."

"Can you prove it?" someone shouted mockingly, interrupting him. "Have you seen elves by yourself? And if not, what kind of threat are we talking about?"

"We just don't intend to help you!"

"And so we all pay taxes! What else?"

"Exactly! He takes us for fools!" the woman sitting to Richard's left chimed in. "He thinks he's going to rip us off like a stick! We may be simple people, but we're not stupid!" she raised her fist above her head and shook it menacingly.

"What about the Royal Army?" there was another shout. "Everyone has already been taken away. Soon you will start calling small children! Why are soldiers just sitting around with their trousers glued to chairs? Send them to fight the fairies, huh? And along with the goblins and one greedy and huge troll from Ytola!"

"You don't understand. Military conscription and taxes are simply necessary. Without these measures, we will never be able to restrain the onslaught of our enemies and protect the future of our kingdom!" the man explained, but his words were drowned in an indignant hubbub. "Creatures and Inhumans will enslave us!"

The people started a dispute with the narrator, demanding evidence and explanations. After all, he did not provide any decrees, and he did not even introduce himself. He brought with him only words about a big problem. Alas, it's just an empty sound.

"And the king doesn't care about us at all!" the bearded man added. "From taxes and taxes, my stomach will soon go to my back! And there is no help from you! What did you do when the bitter frosts came? We were cut off from the rest of the cities; dozens of people died of hunger, and no one even moved an eyebrow!"

"And the tax collectors, like hungry dogs, prowl in search of profit!" visitors shouted excitedly. "We have not forgotten the times when farmers were robbed of houses and land!"

"And what did they do with Chagrin when the plague broke out there? The gray-haired old man shook his head. "The king easily solved this problem by ordering the burning of the city along with all its inhabitants!"

The traveler's eyes darted in search of support from one person to another, but he never received it. People looked at him with contempt and hatred. Now the wanderer is blamed for everything. Even in an epidemic. And then his gaze stopped on Richard. He felt sorry for this poor fellow, but the young man did not say anything in his support.

This person is most likely an envoy of the king or his spy, or maybe even a scoundrel. He didn't like such people, they were only interested in gold and power, and they didn't care about others. But was he telling the truth about the appearance of elves, or was it just a trick to convince the commoners to give them the last crumbs? Is this guy connected to the king at all?

"No, he can't know anything about real elves," Richard reasoned, looking at the pathetic wanderer again.

"We came to the tavern to relax, and not to stare at the fools who talk nonsense!" The farmer guy shouted irritably. "Get out of here!"

He was supported by other people.

"As you wish, I'll leave," the traveler proudly threw up his head and headed for the door. There was anger in his voice. "But remember what I said: you'll be sorry! To revile the king..." and he left, slamming the door.

Everyone in the tavern began to discuss what had happened. Was this stranger connected with King Argold, or was it just a crook's bluff?

And the boy kept thinking about the last words of the mysterious wanderer:

"That's who, and the king definitely shouldn't know about that girl!"

"Good evening, Richard. Do you mind if I join you?" a husky voice distracted him from his thoughts.

He shuddered and saw Groff in front of him, dressed all in dark, not festive. All his clothes, from his boots to his doublet, are blacker than night. The darker is the better, and it won't get dirty so soon. This is a good reason! But if Richard had not known him, he would have thought that this was some kind of villain akin to that ambassador.

The eyes did not express concern, but only some kind of mild curiosity. Wrinkles gathered in their corners like a grid. Politely waiting for the guy's consent, he smiled strangely.

"Hello, Groff," Richard said. "Of course, I don't mind! Have a seat."

"Are you waiting for someone?" Groff pulled back the skirts of his raincoat and settled down next to him.

"Yes, we agreed to meet with Veya here," he replied.

The old man, without getting up from his chair, moved closer.

"I haven't seen you in the town for a long time. Where have you disappeared to?"

Richard was already used to this lie. He had already repeated it so many times, now it began to seem to him that Ilda was somewhere far away. "I have nothing much to do in Bertleben now—" he sighed.

"And how do you like the festival?" Groff suddenly changed the subject.

" It's great!" the young man exclaimed. "I liked it! After all, it's not every day that a fair opens."

They ordered drinks and food and sat in silence.

"You heard that madman, didn't you?" Groff broke the silence first. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Yes," the young man agreed. "Nothing could be more stupid! But after all, the king doesn't care about us..."

"That's true, but that's not what I'm talking about. People like him are ready to defend the interests of the king to the last, although there is no excuse for many of his actions..." Groff muttered. "And what about the fact that jarhis, sorcerers, and elves have reappeared in Meriel?"

"Do you think it's true? I think he just wanted to intimidate us."

"At first, it seemed so to me too, but then I realized something was wrong. Would the king have asked us for help if everything had been fine? Something unsettling is going on."

"But for sure! So he sent this man here, but it still didn't work out. No one supported him."

"I don't know what awaits us, but I wouldn't be surprised if taxes rose soon. "You saw everything by yourself: the people were preparing to tear him to pieces, but he was not a fool, he left in time. Imagine what would have happened to Bertleben and with us if the king's ambassador had been killed or some other harm was done to him."

"It would mean a challenge to the order of the kingdom. It could even be a revolt!" Richard gasped. "It's even scary to think about it."

"And your head is in the right place, my friend!" the old man praised him. "If he has something to do with the king..." he reasoned. "Everything would be fine, but he talked about elves in vain."

"Why? Richard immediately perked up."

"There aren't more than a dozen elves in all of Meriel, and there aren't any left at all," the old man replied sadly. "How can they ruin entire cities?"

"They say elves are masters of magic, if they use it, then they should be able to destroy the city," suggested the young man.

"It's gone, and no one can use it anymore," Groff objected, shaking his head. "She disappeared with the elves."

"And why did elves disappear? And where did they go?" Richard latched onto the subject. Maybe he can get something out of Groff. "Do they exist?" And before magic was a common thing?"

"They lived in Meriel a long time ago. Their time has passed, so elves have left our land forever, and they are unlikely to return. No one knows where they found their last shelter. Maybe somewhere in the West..." Groff looked into the boy's eyes, some strange fire shone in them. "Why are you so interested in elves?"

"I read a song about them in a book," he lied. He wasn't going to tell Groff about the girl he'd found in the forest. After all, she was the reason for such a passionate interest in elves. "That's why I was interested. Besides, this guy fell right on our heads with incomprehensible stories, so I want to know if he was telling the truth or not."

Groff shook his head. He didn't ask about this song. It had long been clear to him that the boy was hiding something.

"Please, Groff, tell me something about elves!" Richard looked at him pleadingly. "I want to know more!"

"Well, I guess I can tell you something, but the tavern is not the place for such stories," Groff croaked.

"We can go for a walk," the guy suggested. "Veya hasn't come yet, and if she does, she'll wait a little while."

"Not a bad idea!" Groff smiled. "It's getting stuffy in here."

After paying, they left the tavern.

A cool breeze appeared as stars shone in the dark and cloudless sky. Outside, everything was quiet, only the crackling of dying fires, the singing of crickets, and night birds somewhere beyond the edge of the forest. Richard was a little tired of the noise reigning in the tavern, but now he was enjoying the blessed silence.

"Follow me," Groff, limping, moved down the street, and the young man, not lagging, followed.

"What happened to you then?" he asked suddenly. "You were running headlong down the road just in your shirt."

Richard remembered that day as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

"I was in a hurry to see Ilda, tripped, and fell. That's how clumsy I am. And I lost my cloak..."

Groff frowned, apparently unconvinced by the answer:

"Watch your step next time," Groff advised.

"I'll try."

"And then Ilda immediately went to her brother? I went to see her, I constantly needed ointment for a sore leg, but she was not there. The shop is locked, there is no note..."

"She told me her brother was very ill," Richard continued to lie. Groff made a guess, but it was up to him to figure out exactly what he knew. Is it even possible to trust him? "That's why Ilda left immediately."

The old man scratched his beard.

They came to Groff's house, built of stone. It reminded Richard of a square mossy boulder. The dwelling was at the end of the street, a little apart from the others. Then there were hedges separating the city from the fields, among which the black silhouettes of mills could be seen. The old man unlocked the door with a key and let the young man inside.

What was Groff going to tell him that required such seclusion? Or does he have something to show? But he was already here. The moment hesitated but followed him. The main thing is not to let Groff reveal himself, but to find out as much as possible.

Groff lit candles, their uneven light picked out individual pieces of furniture in a large room, in the center of which there were too low, pot-bellied armchairs and a round table, shelves with various junk, dishes, utensils, and books hung along the walls—everything was mixed up, there was no order here. There was a feeling that he took some things he needed and then put them anywhere. Richard is familiar with this, the same mess was going on his desk, on a smaller scale, of course.

Groff lit the fire, and then sank into a large armchair and motioned for his guest to sit down as well.

"No one will overhear us here," the old man said as he stretched his tired legs and glared at Richard.