Shrewd shut the door to his bathing room firmly, as if to keep the stink from spreading into his bedchamber, and came to take a straight-backed chair by the fire. In a moment the Fool had drawn a table up beside it, the cloth covering the food had become a tablecloth, and he had set out food for the King as prettily as any serving maid could have done. Silverware and a napkin appeared, a sleight of hand that had even Shrewd smiling, and then the Fool folded himself up on the hearth, knees nearly to his ears, chin cupped in his long-fingered hands, pale skin and hair picking up red tones from the fire’s dancing flames. His every move was as graceful as a dancer’s and the pose he struck now was artful as well as comical. The King reached down to smooth his flying hair as if the Fool were a kitten.

“I told you I was not hungry, Fool.”

“That you did. But you did not tell me not to bring food.”

“And if I had?”

“Then I should tell you this is not food, but a steaming pot such as Wall Ass afflicts you with, to fill your nostrils with a scent at least more pleasing than his. And this be not bread, but a plaster for your tongue, which you should apply at once.”

“Ah.” King Shrewd drew his table a bit closer and took up a spoonful of the soup. Barley shouldered against bits of carrot and meat in it. Shrewd tasted, and then began to eat.

“Am I not at least as good a physician as Wall Ass?” the Fool purred, well pleased with himself.

“Well you know Wallace is not a physician, but simply my servant.”

“Well I know it, and well do you, but Wall Ass knows it not, and hence you are not well.”

“Enough of your nattering. Step up, Fitz, don’t stand there grinning like a simpleton. What have you to tell me?”

I glanced at the Fool, and then decided I would insult neither King nor Fool by asking if I could report freely in front of him. So I did, a simple report, with no mention of my more clandestine actions other than their results. Shrewd listened gravely, and at the end he had no comment, other than to rebuke me mildly for poor manners at the Duke’s table. He then asked if Duke Brawndy of Bearns seemed well and content with the peace in his Duchy. I replied that he had when I left. Shrewd nodded. Then he requested the scrolls I had copied. These I took out and displayed for him, and was rewarded by a compliment on the gracefulness of my handiwork. He told me to take them to Verity’s map room, and be sure Verity knew of them. He asked if I had viewed the Elderling’s relic. I described it to him in detail. And all the while the Fool perched on the hearthstones and watched us silent as an owl. King Shrewd ate his soup and bread under the Fool’s watchful eyes as I read the scroll aloud to him. When I was finished, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “So, let’s see this scrollwork of yours,” he commanded, and puzzled, I surrendered it to him. Once more he looked it over carefully, then rerolled it. As he gave it back to me he said, “You’ve a graceful way with a pen, boy. Well lettered and well done. Take it to Verity’s map room, and see that he knows of it.”

“Of course, my king.” I faltered, confused. I did not understand his motive in repeating himself, and was unsure if he were waiting for some other response from me. But the Fool was rising, and I caught from him something less than a glance; not quite the lift of an eyebrow, not quite the turn of a lip, but enough to bid me to silence. The Fool gathered up the dishes, all the while making merry talk with the King, and then both of us were dismissed together. As we left, the King was staring into the flames.

Out in the hall, we exchanged glances more openly. I began to speak, but the Fool commenced to whistle, and did not cease until we were halfway down the stairs. Then he paused and caught at my sleeve, and we halted on the stairway, betwixt floors. I sensed he had chosen this spot carefully. None could see or hear us speak here, save that we saw them also. Still, it was not even the Fool that spoke to me, but the rat atop the scepter. He brought it up before my nose and squeaked in the rat’s voice, “Ah, but you and I, we must remember whatever he forgets, Fitz, and keep it safe for him. It costs him much to show as strong as he did tonight. Do not be deceived about that. What he said to you, twice, you must cherish and obey, for it means he held it twice as hard in his mind to be sure he would say it to you.”

I nodded and resolved to deliver the scroll that very night to Verity. “I do not much care for Wallace,” I commented to the Fool.

“’Tis not Wall’s Ass you should have a care for, but Wall’s Ears,” he replied solemnly. Abruptly he balanced the tray on one long-fingered hand and lofted it high over his head, and went capering off down the stairs before me, leaving me alone to think.