FESTIVAL AT QARAX

CAIVAN

I chose the top of the clock tower as my perch this evening, as music bursts through the streets of Qarax. It's a good spot for me, though, I'd probably have a couple of long-range crossbows and arrows aimed at me right now, waiting for me to make a wrong move, a sinister gesture, even though they know I'm a king's man.

I lean on the railing, peering down into the city of lights. The streets and alleys and main roads are lined with people all holding poles and firesticks, dancing and singing. Masquerades and large balloon characters dot each of these processions, crossed over by ribbons and ropes and floating lanterns.

The main crowd is concentrated around the bronze statue of King Xanwed in front of his palace. He isn't out yet, but Edward had declared the festivities begin. A large table; large enough to sit half a hundred people; takes up the marble floor of the front courtyard. Lords Willen, Arden, Lionel and Russo of Baldr