“A fine bit of pork fat,” observed the Fool. I leaped to my feet and nearly fell down the steps. A wild pinwheeling of my arms brought my balance back.
“Interesting. Do you think you could teach me to do that?”
“Not funny, Fool. I have been followed of late, and my nerves are a jangle.” I peered down the stairwell into the darkness. If the Fool had crept up on me, could not Will? “How’s the King?” I demanded quietly. If this attempt had been made on Kettricken, I had no faith in Shrewd’s safety.
“You tell me.” The Fool stepped out of the shadows. Gone were his fine clothes, replaced with an old motley of blue and red. It went well with the new bruises that mottled one side of his face. On his right cheek, the flesh had been split. One arm carried the other close to his chest. I suspected a dislocated shoulder.
“Not again,” I gasped.
“Exactly what I said to them. They paid small attention. Some folk just have not the knack of conversation.”
“What happened? I thought you and Regal-”
“Yes, well, not even a Fool can seem stupid enough to please Regal. I did not wish to leave King Shrewd’s side today. They were questioning him relentlessly about what had happened the night of the feast. I became perhaps a trifle too witty in suggesting other ways they might amuse themselves. They threw me out.”
My heart sank in me. I was sure I knew exactly which guard had assisted him out the door. It was as Burrich had always warned me. One could never know what Regal might dare. “What did the King tell them?”