The sights and smells and sounds of market day pervaded the square in a tangle of brilliant color, boisterous voices and complaining pack animals, the smells of spice and dung and new-baked bread, meat roasting on spits, the squeals of pigs and sheep, the frantic cackling of chickens and other feathered things.

Morgan glanced idly at a troupe of jugglers performing outside a silk-hung pavilion, catching a whiff of overly sweet perfume as a soldier lurched through an opening in the curtains. An airy, tinkling music and the sound of female laughter floated from beyond the silk, and the man had a slightly glassy look to his eyes as he staggered into the crowd and was lost from sight. A pair of saucy serving maids jostled him from behind, their laden baskets pushing a wide swath through the crowd, but the girls were unkempt and dirty looking; definitely not to Morgan’s taste.

Morgan shifted the saddlebags slung across his shoulder, then bit into one of the apples in his hand, savoring the tart crispness between his teeth. Continuing to glance around as he walked, he spotted his cousin a few stalls down, buying fresh bread and a slab of crusty country cheese. Duncan paused to peer at the stall of the sweet smells and tinkling music for just a moment; then he frowned and began to move away.

Morgan suppressed a grin and began to stroll in the direction Duncan had gone, watching and munching as he walked. At length, Duncan settled on a ledge beside a public well and began eating bread and cheese, cutting off thick chunks of the cheese with his dagger. Morgan made his way to the well and deposited saddlebags and fruit on the ledge beside Duncan. As he leaned against the wall and continued to scan the busy market square, it was a distinct effort to keep his manner casual. One could never tell who might be watching.

“Busy place, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice, finishing his apple and tossing the core to where a heavily laden donkey could reach it. He tore off a chunk of bread and cut himself some cheese, gray eyes continuing to scan as he tucked into the more substantial fare. “I hope you’ve found out more than I did.”

Duncan swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese and looked around cautiously. “Little of any immediate use, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell you this: the bishops are going to have trouble on their hands, if they don’t do something fairly soon. Popular support is with Cardiel and his army right now, but there are many who aren’t happy about his plans. They consider it a disgrace that leaders of the Church should quarrel among themselves to the point of schism, and I can’t say that I blame them. Especially on the eve of war.”

“Humph.” Morgan cut off another piece of cheese and glanced behind him before leaning closer to Duncan. “Did you hear about old Bishop Wolfram?”