A Tale of Two Castles(45)

My knees grew numb. They spoke of monthly half holidays and wages.

Finally, silence fell.

My heart raced. I counted three beats, then whispered, “Did . . .” Mansion the accent! Draw out the vowels. Pound the consonants. “Did anyone see a signal along the table? A . . . a signal to the cats?”

I drew back.

Pause . . . Pause . . .

They were going to find me!

Pause . . .

“Or a signal from the dais, by thunder. Any of them up there could have done it.”

“It happened so quick.”

I inched back to my pallet.

“They were lifting tumblers, their knives . . .”

“Feeding each other.”

“The princess gave away more than she ate. Not like her father.”

“Everyone was laughing at the snake coming out of the girl’s mouth. I laughed, too.”

“Egad, Master Thiel could have done it. Hates His Lordship.”

A female whisper said, “They all hate His Lordship.”

“Not so much as Thiel.”

“Nesspa would have protected his master.”

“Thiel didn’t have to signal. Likely he gave the cat instructions. That Pardine is as smart as—”

“We mustn’t name folks. We don’t know.”

“If it was a signal, who could see a wrist flick in all those people?”

“By thunder, I would have seen.”

“By thunder, you mightn’t have. Somebody could have signaled under the table.”

“If one cat saw the signal, all would join the chase.”

“Perhaps no one signaled. A cat might just go.”

“The dogs at the hearths should have protected him.”

“They had bones to chew. He didn’t make a pet of any of them.”

The voices quieted again, and soon the broad back in front of me stretched out flat. The others settled, too.

I reviewed every remark, my thoughts snagging on Master Thiel. Could he show such courtesy and good humor and still try to murder a person—an ogre?

I hadn’t thought the word murder before, but if His Lordship had been eaten, then murder it was, and no cat the true killer.





Chapter Twenty-Five

I woke suspecting Master Dess, who knew all animals, not merely cats. He could understand the animals that lived inside His Lordship better than the count did himself. Master Dess might share Two Castles’s hatred of an ogre, or he might have been paid, and he might have known exactly what the ogre would do in the face of stalking cats.

But he hadn’t been in the hall.

He might have been in league with someone who was.

Master Dess, who seemed so kind, might be a whited sepulcher, the worst villain of all, according to Mother.

Or Goodwife Celeste might be the villain. She certainly had secrets, and she’d worn a cloak embroidered with cats.

Oh, not the goodwife. She wouldn’t kill. My masteress told me to doubt everyone, but he also said to use common sense. Common sense ruled out Goodwife Celeste.

But it didn’t rule out Master Thiel or Master Dess.

When I entered the kitchen, no one sent me away. The search for the mouse continued, although I wasn’t able to take part because King Grenville had requested that I wait on him. I almost wept.

Master Jak let me eat a thick slice of bread and then told me that the king was in his chambers in the northwest tower. “Take this to him.” He held out a tray loaded with more food than I would eat in three days. “Egad, I’m pleased His Lordship thought we needed you.”

A minute later I rapped on the tower door. A guard admitted me to the first story, which held the castle armory. I knocked again on the second level, and His Majesty bellowed for me to enter.

I never thought I would see a king’s hairy legs. He stood at his window embrasure in a silk undershirt that hung to just below his knees.

No guards, only His Highness and I. My heart thumped.

Holding the tray in an iron grip, I curtsied. The dishes rattled, but nothing spilled.

The room was a parlor, not a bedchamber, which must be upstairs. The biggest area was occupied by two benches that faced each other, both piled with pillows, with a low, rectangular table between. A chest butted against one wall and a small cabinet against another. A round cloth-

covered table and two chairs kept company by the fireplace, where a fire blazed. I placed the tray on the round table and hoped that was right.

His Majesty stumped to the chair nearest the fire and sat. “Girl, make the snake come out of your mouth again.”

I didn’t understand. “Your Majesty?”

“When you crossed your eyes and pretended a snake was coming out.” He bit into a slice of bread and spoke with his mouth full, white bread and yellow teeth. “That was comical. Do it again.”

I stared. He began to frown. I crossed my eyes and held out my arms for the imaginary snake.

He laughed. “A pity you were interrupted. What comes next?”

For once I didn’t want to mansion, but I enacted the rest of the tale. When the prince rode in to see the pretty sister, I straddled the spare chair and made it clatter back and forth on its wooden legs. I snapped at the chair’s imaginary withers with an imaginary whip.

The king even stopped eating to laugh. When I finished, he said, “To think of you here, performing for me alone! How lucky I am. Again, girl. No, wait. Take my tray and find my daughter. She must see it, too. Bring her a breakfast as well, and I should feel so very fortunate for a leek pie in brown sauce.”