The Fool regarded me with a skeptical eye. “Ah,” he said with false heartiness. “Of course not. Then it, must be Kettricken who is carrying.”
“It must,” I agreed, but my heart sank. If Kettricken were pregnant, she would have no reason to conceal it. Whereas Molly would. And I had not been to see Molly in several nights. Perhaps she had news for me. I felt suddenly dizzied, but I forced myself to take a long calming breath. “Take your shirt off,” I told the Fool. “Let’s see your chest.”
“I’ve seen it, thank you, and I assure you it’s fine. When they popped the bag over my head, I presume it was to provide a target. They were most conscientious about striking nowhere else.”
The brutality of what they had done to him sickened me into silence. “Who?” I finally managed to ask.
“With a bag over my head? Come now. Can you see through a bag?”
“No. But you must have suspicions.”
He canted his head at me in disbelief. “If you do not know what those suspicions are already, then you are the one with your head in a bag. Let me cut a bit of a hole for you. `We know you are false to the King, that you spy for Verity the pretender. Send him no more messages, for if you do, we shall know of it.’ “ He turned to stare into the fire, swung his heels briefly, thunk, thunk, thunk, against my clothing chest.
“Verity the pretender?” I asked in outrage.
“Not my words. Theirs,” he pointed out.
I forced my anger down, tried to think. “Why would they suspect you spy for Verity? Have you sent him messages?”
“I have a King,” he said softly. “Although he does not always remember he is my king. You must look out for your king. As I am sure you do.”