I dragged on trousers and a tunic, ran for the door barefoot with my hair draggling about my face. I halted there. “How do I know this? Whence do I say this warning comes?”
Chade hopped up and down in frustration. “Damn and damn! Tell them anything! Tell Shrewd you had a dream of the Pocked Man scrying it in a pool of water! He at least should understand that! Tell them an Elderling brought you the news! Say anything, but get them to act and now!”
“Right!” I raced off down the hallway, skidded down the steps, and raced down the corridor to King Shrewd’s chambers. I hammered on Shrewd’s door. At the far end of the hall, Burrich stood beside his chair outside Kettricken’s door. He looked at me, drew his short sword, and took a ready stance, eyes darting everywhere. “Raiders!” I called down the hall to him, not caring who overheard or how they reacted. “Five Red-Ships in Neatbay! Rouse Her Majesty, tell her they need our aid now!”
Burrich turned without a question to tap on Kettricken’s door and be immediately admitted. It did not go so easily for me. Wallace finally opened the door a grudging crack, but would not budge until I suggested he should be the one to race down the stairs and inform Regal of my tidings. I believe it was the prospect of making a dramatic entrance and conferring with the Prince before all the merrymakers that decided him. He left the door unguarded as he hurried to his small antechamber to make himself presentable.
The King’s bedchamber was in total darkness and heavy with the reek of Smoke. I took a candle from his sitting room, kindled it at the dwindling fire, and hastened in. In the darkness, I nearly trod upon the Fool, who was curled up like a cur at the King’s bedside. I gaped in astonishment. He had not so much as a blanket or cushion for comfort, but huddled on the rug beside the King’s bed. He uncurled stiffly, coming awake, and then alarmed in an instant. “What is it? What’s happened?” he demanded.