A Tale of Two Castles(57)

IT said nothing.

“I apologize. You would not conspire. Sir Misyur gestured to the servers to delay the next remove. He could see no one wanted an interruption while you performed. His signal to the cats was in addition to the gesture to the servers. It was slight, but a cat teacher couldn’t miss it.”

“Plausible,” IT said.

Impossible, I thought.

“I have more proof. The lord mayor read the count’s will last night. He left everything to Sir Misyur. The news is all over town.”

I could hardly take it in. Before I could form a thought, ITs tail whipped around Master Thiel’s waist and ITs smoke turned purple.

“Let me go, Meenore. Ouch! What have I done?”


“You have told His Majesty about Sir Misyur’s wrist flick, or you have told someone who will tell His Majesty.”

“I thought of it only this morning and I’ve been here. Let me go.”

“You concocted the wrist flick when you heard about the will, and you will make sure His Majesty is informed as soon as you may. Lodie, why will he do so?”

I felt as confused as a mansioner who’s entered the wrong tale.

“Your scales are hot!”

“How unfortunate for you. Lodie?”

“Because Master Thiel doesn’t want Sir Misyur to inherit.”

“And what else?”

I spoke slowly, reasoning it out. “Because . . . neither . . . will . . . His . . . Majesty . . .” I had it! “His Majesty will seize the castle. People will believe Sir Misyur guilty because he had riches to gain.” I felt breathless. “Master Thiel will receive a reward for his lie.”

“I have not told His Majesty. Whatever you think of me, I cannot. Let me go and I’ll say why.”

IT freed Master Thiel with a snap so sharp that he spun twice on his heels.

“Do not try to run or I will snatch you up again, and I will not be gentle next time.”

Master Thiel regained his balance. “Word is all over town. His Highness is deathly ill, poisoned during the feast. He sickened in the middle of last night.”





Chapter Thirty-Two

Master Thiel smiled. “The news is distressing to His Majesty’s subjects.”

How unfeeling he was. I shivered. Greedy Grenny was horrible, but I didn’t wish him poisoned.

My masteress gripped Master Thiel’s arm with a claw. “Who is blamed?”

“Master Jak and the taster are imprisoned.”

IT let Master Thiel go. “Lodie, we must leave.”

“Then I may check my traps, unhindered?”

“Yes. No.” The tip of ITs tail circled his ankle. “Give Lodie her copper.”

He produced a copper from his purse. “Pardine couldn’t tell how pretty you are, or he’d have left you alone.” He bowed.

I didn’t blush. I was finished. “Is anyone else ill?” I asked. “Any of the others on the dais?”

“I’ve been told that Her Highness was a little ill, nothing serious. Her father did not share much of his meal with anyone.”

“Gluttony and selfishness to good purpose for once.” IT lowered ITself. “Lodie, take your seat.”

IT landed in a pasture distant enough from both the forest and His Lordship’s castle to be hidden from both. I jumped down.

“I must deduce and induce and use my common sense.” IT extended ITself on the ground and closed ITs eyes. Only ITs tail switched slowly back and forth. Wisps of smoke rose from ITs nostrils.

I sat on the browning grass. On the farm at this hour, Father and Albin were likely leaving the apple orchard for their midday meal. Our dog, Hoont, would be dancing between the two men, an apple in her mouth, begging to be chased. At home Mother would be stirring the pottage pot. If I were there, I’d be setting out bowls and spoons.

IT raised ITs head and opened ITs eyes. “Lodie, did you see Sir Misyur pass any delicacies to the king?”

“Do you think he and not Master Jak or the taster poisoned him?”

“Answer my question.”

“Several times. Sir Misyur was at the end of the dais table, and His Highness was in the middle. People picked at the food as the bowl went along. They would be poisoned, too.”

“They may have been. Thiel may know only of the king, or he may have chosen to tell us only of the king.”

“Sir Misyur rose and went to the kitchen more than once to make sure all was well.”

IT shook ITs head. “I’m rarely wrong about a character. I’ve long believed Sir Misyur a good man.”

“He could be a whited sepulcher.”

“Indeed. I will now think aloud. If you hear a flaw in my reasoning, stop me.”

“Yes, Masteress.” I felt both nervous and honored.

“Sir Misyur has served His Lordship for seven years. If he knew he was to inherit, why wait to harm him?”

“Maybe—”

“Do not interrupt. Perhaps Sir Misyur has learned only recently that he was to inherit.”

“Maybe—”

“Lodie! Sir Misyur, fearing he would no longer inherit when His Lordship married Her Highness, set the cats on the count. He also surmised that His Majesty would not countenance the inheritance. Wanting to keep his wealth, Sir Misyur resorted to poison. In this conjecture, Master Jak and the taster are innocent.”