He gave me a ghost of a smile. “You think our prince could be dead, and I still be alive? You insult me. Besides, use your wits. You’d know if he was dead. Or injured.” He paused and studied me carefully. “Wouldn’t you?”
It was plain what he spoke of. Ashamedly, I admitted, “Our link is not reliable. Some things are clear. Some are not. Of this, I knew nothing. What’s happened?”
He looked thoughtful. “Verity said he would try to send word through you. If you’ve relayed no tidings to Shrewd, then this information should first go to the King.”
I asked no more questions.
I had forgotten how long it had been since Burrich had seen King Shrewd. Mornings were not the King’s best times, but when I mentioned this to Burrich, he said he would rather report immediately at a bad time than delay information. So we knocked and, to my surprise, were admitted. Once within, I realized this was because Wallace was nowhere about.
Instead, as I entered, the Fool asked me graciously, “Back for more Smoke?” Then, as he caught sight of Burrich, the mocking grin faded from his face. His eyes met mine. “The Prince?”
“Burrich has come to report to the King.”
“I shall try to rouse him. Though the way he has been of late, one might as well report to him sleeping as awake. He takes as much notice either way.”
Accustomed as I was to the Fool’s mockery, this still jarred me. The sarcasm bit wrong, for there was too much resignation in his voice. Burrich looked at me worriedly. He whispered, “What is wrong with my king?”