Strange how one good performance and the forgiveness of two friends so recently thought lost should restore such good humour. The ache of my recent loss remained and yet I felt no longer consumed by despair, but rather filled with a hope and determination that one day, and soon, I should regain that which had been torn from me. For the moment Lady Rubella would suffice, but I held to a certainty that the Lady Arabella would one day return.

“A good day, Randolph,” said the king. “A great day in truth, when I might prank my own fool.”

“Majesty forgive me,” I responded, bowing low, “but it was my understanding that we should seek to keep the matter between us a secret.”

“Mine also,” spake the queen. She sat upon the bed with a bearing of haughty disapproval, and here was the reason for it.

“I know, I know,” chuckled the king, “but I could scarce allow such an opportunity to pass me by. Tell me it was not funny.”

“As you will it then so it shall be,” the queen snapped, “though ‘t’was done in very low taste and with no regard for those innocents who would be most damaged by the jest.”

“Do you agree with this, Randolph?” The king’s rare use of my name — not once but twice now — spoke volubly of his good humour.

“Majesty, I believe her majesty refers to my lords Caleb and Jason who would likely be embarrassed by the revelation that they had spent much of this past year courting a fool, and her majesty’s own lady in waiting who had shown the Lady Arabella no small amount of friendship. To discover oneself so betrayed is one matter, to do so in such a public manner is quite another.”

“They’ll get over it.”

“Perhaps,” the queen took on the charge, “but when it becomes known that not only was your fool transformed this past year, but the king and queen also, what reaction might there be? We shall lose the trust of all our people and then we shall see how well you like your little jest.”

“Then, your majesties, let it not become known.” I’d been thinking on the matter and an idea had occurred.

They both turned quizzical heads in my direction.

“My king, my queen, in my early days as the Lady Arabella, I recall overhearing sufficient gossip within the court that fool Randolph had formed a new friendship with Ulric the potioneer shortly before his disappearance, and perhaps therein lay the mystery of his vanishing. Perhaps he had performed some jest in poor taste and the old man had dealt with him in kind.

“He is a secretive soul but much liked, so the rumour vanished as mysteriously as did I, but the memory of it remains. Now that I am returned let it be uncovered that I, having observed Ulric’s manufacture of your majesties’ golden potion, rashly took a hold of one and drank it myself. By misfortune I was transformed into the Lady Arabella and, with no hope that the effect might be reversed except by the passage of time, your majesties permitted that I might live the length of my transformation in the guise of that good lady, that I might remain in the employ of the queen as her lady in waiting to aid in the subterfuge until such time as the potion’s effect might run its course.

“We all held hope that my transition back might come gently and with some warning, but when it came about so abrupt and in so public a manner, the king’s only recourse was to make light of it.”

“A fine tale, Randolph!” exclaimed the king.

Even the queen’s expression softened. “It would cushion the blow dealt to Mirabelle and to Caleb and Jason for, were you under the king’s command not to reveal the truth of your identity, then circumstance would be that you had not willingly fooled them, but unwillingly kept from them a difficult secret.”

“Then let this be the truth of the matter so far as history recounts it,” the king said. “And Randolph, I have further news to gladden you, for it seemed wise to ensure that such a thing as has befallen us should not occur again. To this end, I instructed the Master of Potions to alter the golden draught such that there might be only one recipe which, whether drunk by man or woman, would bring about in them a change that altered them solely by their nature.

“When the queen and I awoke to find ourselves returned to our true forms this morning, we called upon Ulric to bring us the means to grant us our fairer aspect, even before you came to our chambers. He thus proudly presented to us the fruits of his year’s labour and, though marginally less effective than the former draught, the queen and I consider it to be well enough. Thus agreed, we commanded that the original recipe be destroyed, and that Ulric never more speak of it to anyone.

“Dearest fool, though this jest must remain a secret between us, I will declare here and now that it be perhaps your greatest. A year in my wife’s skirts has taught me a far greater respect for womankind than I have known, and furthermore an understanding of the frustration the fairer sex endures in having no say in matters of importance. A year in my britches has proven that such a lady as my wife may rule as well and fairly as any man. Though neither of us would be subject to such a transformation a second time, we are both glad of the lessons this last year has taught us.”

Queen Laramy came to stand by her man. “Though it seems we cannot reward you publicly for this service, Randolph, we would like to do so in private, so ask of us anything and we shall see if it may be granted.”

All the while the king had spoke I had felt the hope to which I clung crumble about me. Here at the last was a handhold and I took it in firm grasp.

“If it please your majesties, I would ask that I might have the recipe for your golden draught in its original form.”

“To what end Randolph?” the king barked with a laugh. “Would you seek to repeat this jest on others of my court? I am sorry, friend, but here is one thing I cannot permit. I will have no more of this potion in my kingdom.”

“Then I can think of nothing else I desire, your majesty.”

“Then guard for yourself this promise of a royal boon. When you have at last decided upon something that we may allow, then ask again. I shall consider any request you make and, so long as I can see no mischievous intent therein, I shall grant it.”

I bowed low at this and asked that I might be excused.

“Aye, we are done, though I feel minded to caution you. For all that it turned out well, your jape placed the kingdom in deep jeopardy, and I am serious in this matter. There shall be none more of this potion in the kingdom and you will not pursue it further. Are we clear on this?”

I held the king’s eye for a full few seconds and managed a nod.

“Then we are truly done, and you have your liberty.”

I turned to leave, though stopped short of the door as my king spoke once more.

“This harridan aunt of yours, Randolph. Will she be gracing our courts again soon?”

“I fear so, majesty.”

“Perhaps she might learn to respect her betters a little.”

“Majesty, she holds the opinion that none be of greater import than herself. I doubt I shall be able to change her manner by much.”

“Do what you can to curb her ways, fool. If it be not enough, I may be compelled to have her expelled from the court.”

“I am sorry, Randolph,” he said to me. “The king required that I make an unbreakable vow and swear never to reveal the secrets of those potions, also to destroy my notes and never to make it again. Even were I of a mind to help you I could not without risk to my life.”

“And the original recipe?” I asked. “What has become of that?”

He indicated a brazier, the stench of which was uncommonly repugnant even for his rooms. Upon its glowing coals lay the shrivelled, blackened and hideously reeking remnants of a parchment sheet. In desperation, I reached in with bare hands and snatched it out, whereupon it fell to the floor and ceased burning.

Ulric shook his head sadly and lifted down a jar of ointment with which he eased the pain in my fingers. “It’ll do you no good. By the king’s command, I cast it upon the fire this morning. True parchment such as this is highly resistant to flame, but as long a time as it has spent on the coals, I hold little hope that it may retain even the smallest part of the knowledge writ upon it.”

Whilst his gentle balm eased my scorched fingers, he could see plain in my face he had no ointment to settle the growing ache within me. “It means that much to you?” he asked.

I had no breath to speak. All I could do was nod.

“But why? I cannot see that the loss of a mere prank should cause such anguish.”

Still the words would not come. I now took to shaking my head. Even had I been able to speak, I fear I would not have found it in me to admit to the truth I had uncovered in myself.

He was wise though, this potioneer, and compassionate. Mayhap he saw enough.

“Perhaps you would care to look at the new recipe,” he said reaching to a different shelf for a piece of parchment paper. “I am not so fond of this material for writing,” he continued as he unrolled it and held it in place with convenient weights. “The cost is far less than true parchment, but it does not endure so well.”

“I thought you had vowed not to speak of it.”

“Of the old recipe I cannot speak, but this new one does not bind me. By chance it is much the same. A few ingredients removed to be replaced with powdered root of ginger and all enhanced with the skin of a particular venomous snake, but that is all.”

“All of this is the same? All but the one ingredient added?”

He chuckled. “And several removed. Of those I cannot speak of course.”

“Then what use is this?”

Ulric smiled, somewhat ruefully. "The king has not forbidden me from telling any who might be interested how pen strokes may sometimes be recovered from the charred remains of burnt parchment. I would caution against overly raising your hopes, but perhaps even such a blackened skin as this might be persuaded to offer up some of its secrets. Should you be truly fortunate, there may be enough.”

Here was an act of last resort, but what else could I do? My last hope for discovering the secret I so desperately longed to own lay hidden within this old man’s craft.

The process was lengthy and delicate, a skill I needed to learn before attempting it with anything of import. I put to one side the blackened scroll that held my last hope of happiness and set to in earnest learning the skill the potion master offered me.

Many months passed by. The seasons turned. Through windswept Autumn and bitter Winter, I learned this very small part of the potioneer’s craft. Every moment the king did not require me, I spent in Ulric’s chambers. For as much as he could spare time to teach me, so I would learn. For the rest, I practised and grew adept. As Spring brought forth the first inklings of renewed life, Ulric declared me ready, and I set about the lengthy process of restoring — as much as might be possible — the lost instructions.

For such a damaged document, the process was slow and painstaking. Ulric would not permit me to work on it in his laboratory, though he turned a blind eye to my acquisition of such glassware and reagents as I needed for my work. The first task was to soak the sheet in certain oils to restore such suppleness as might be retained — this in itself took more than a month. Next with the parchment once more stretched on a frame, I set about dabbing at it gently with solvents to remove the charring which obscured the writing. This took endless days and summer waned before I was done.

Even with my best efforts — which I knew to be good, the instructions themselves were beyond recovery, as was much of the list of ingredients. Of the latter, sufficient became legible to make out what I knew should already be there.

The wings of thr… …airies

… morn… dew.

One fr… …ucked rose. This one caused me some pause.

… dy’s Mantle

Un… …rn hair.

Mixed throughout in no discernible order, sometimes full readable, other times part obscured, were six further components. I recall the thrill of excitement as I read what I could. Two were clear and complete and a third, even from what little I could see could be only one thing. That left three remaining in some degree of obscurity. One spoke of a handful of… but then the word remained entirely hidden and I knew naught but that it was short, possessing no more than four or perhaps five letters. The remaining two showed enough letters or parts of letter that I could guess at what might be there, though in each case I found my mind filling with suggestions of what might be.

When I had done all I knew to do, I painstakingly copied the exact image of the restored scroll onto a page and placed it within my journal before seeking out Ulrick for further advise. Like the eager pupil I was, I returned to him expecting some sign of approval, but the instant I handed him the fruits of my labours, his face blanched.

“I wish you had not shown me this,” he said. “By my vow I am compelled to destroy it.” He stepped towards a nearby brazier, ever present in his rooms and ever lit during the colder months, and he cast the charred parchment upon the coals. The oils I had spent so long soaking into the dried leather flared into a flame.

“No!” I cried and stepped forward only to be stopped by a surprisingly strong arm in one so old. “Why would you give it to me to work on in the first place?” I begged him, all the while looking on helpless as the flames consumed all of my last year’s work.

“I have found hope alleviates despair, Randolph. Whether it be false hope or no, it may still lessen the pain until such time as it may be endured. I had hoped it would do this for you, my friend. Had I thought for a moment that you might recover so much from this scrap of parchment…

“I am sorry Randolph, for dashing your hopes in this instant, and just as much for what I must now do.” Satisfied that the page had been reduced beyond recovery, he let go my arm and hurried from the room.

I could do naught else but watch and even as I did so the oils burnt through the last of the leather, flaring orange. For an instant that part of the page which bound to the ink or lay still depressed under the pressure of the quill burnt swifter than the surround and for a brief part of a second, the full inscription lingered before my eyes.

Scarce believing how my fortune had turned at the last, I ran for my own rooms, repeating over and again what I had just read. I closed and barred the door behind me, unwilling that anyone or anything should interrupt me, and reached for the parchment tucked within my journal that I might complete the list.

I am not so tidy a scholar as some, and I had barely trimmed and loaded my quill when there came a pounding upon my door. My first thought was to ignore it and I had committed to my page the name of that one ingredient that had remained totally obscured until now.

“Open this door in the name of the king!” came the burly cry of a royal guardsman.

A thought occurred. Whether it were good or no I cannot say. I summoned the querulous tones of the Lady Rubella and cried out, “Leave me to my rest you blundering buffoon, or I’ll have your head on a pike!”

It purchased for me a few scant seconds in which I added to the parchment, completing the first of the no longer incomplete and ambiguous ingredients.

“The king commands your presence immediately, fool!” Evidently a guard with wit enough to think past my ruse. “Open this instant or I shall be compelled to break down your door!”

Another thought. “I shall require a little more than an instant,” I called out in my own voice, “unless you think it would please his majesty to have his fool brought before him displaying more than a lady might wish to see.” I release some of my ever-present flatulence in case he had not the wit to interpret my euphemistic manner.

I did not wait for his reply but continued adding to my notes, completing the second incomplete entry.

“Be swift about your business. I’ve no patience and the king even less. You have until the count of three else I’m through that door and dragging you before the king, bare arsed or no!”

My time had all but run dry, as had my ink.

“One…”

With what little remained in the nib I scrawled one last, barely legible note, for the third incomplete entry, the one I had felt certain I knew, had proven a surprise.

“Two…”

I cast a scattering of pounce upon the page and closed it into my journal before turning to the door.

“Three!”

I unbarred it and pulled it open in the same instant the guard’s shoulder made contact. I had the small pleasure of watching him unbalance and fall into the room. Then, while he regained his feet and his composure, I made a show of arranging my clothes and, turning my back to him, loosed a few breaths of foulness in his direction.

“My sincerest apologies,” I said maintaining as impassive an expression as I could, “but you rather rushed me. Would you care to lead or follow?”

He stormed out of my chambers and was forced to wait while I made some issue of locking and checking my door.

“If you’re done with your foolery, be good enough to walk this way,” said he, eyes narrowed and searching for insincerity in my face.

Of course I was not done with my fooling, and rarely have I ever been offered such an opening. I made a show of imitating his lumbering gait, much to the amusement of every servant we passed. When I sensed his patience at the point of tearing asunder, I feigned exasperation in my own part.

“What!” exclaimed I. “Did you not ask me to walk this way?” At which point I exaggerated his mannerisms all the more.

“I did not mean…”

He swallowed his rage which, by his complexion, did him no good at all. We were within sight of the royal apartments by then, so I scampered off ahead of him and through the door.

“My apologies, majesty. We would have been here sooner, but this fellow is so slow!”

I delighted in the indignation on the guard’s face, put took greater heed of the storm clouds looming above the king’s head. Ulric stood nearby, seeking the anonymity of the shadows.

King Laramy dismissed the guard and turned my way.

“What is this I hear of your seeking after forbidden knowledge, fool?”

He was in no mood for foolery. When I had encountered him so out of sorts previously, I had found only honesty and forthrightness offered a fair defence against his anger.

“Sire, I felt there was no harm…”

“As I recall, I made my position on the matter entirely clear. I understand Ulric told you of the restrictions I placed on him. How could you think it acceptable that you should research this matter for yourself?”

“That you bound your potioneer but not your fool,” said I perhaps too rashly.

“I would have thought you capable of a wittier response than that, but if you stand by it then let it be corrected now. Take my hand.” He held out to me his left. In his right he held his wand.

“Your majesty…”

“Your hand!”

“You granted me a boon.”

“And I would counsel you to keep it a while longer, for I am not done with you. Your hand!”

The incantation for the unbreakable vow is tedious, suffice that he cast it upon our joined hands.

“Swear to me that you will cease this foolishness…”

“Sire, do you think it wise to bid a fool to vow not to be foolish?”

“You know of what I speak, and be wary of interrupting me a second time, fool. I am in no mood to show charity.

“Swear to me that you will no longer seek to recover this lost knowledge, that you will not attempt to create either potion, that you will neither speak nor write of what you have discovered thus far, nor show what you have written to another soul. Swear it!”

Here was a moment to pause and make good use of my mind, for though I have no great talent with magic, I understand its manner well enough. The oath made under an unbreakable vow is ultimately binding, but cleverly worded it might offer some loosening of the ties. That being said, I could not be too clever with my words lest my king suspect me of seeking to undermine his intent and so cast a second spell to bind me more strongly still. I let loose a sigh of defeat, all the while my mind whirling, seeking some way of easing the restrictions he sought to place on me

“I swear that I will make no further attempt to recover the components of this potion that Ulric has destroyed.” This much was easy since I had already discovered all I needed to know. “I swear that I will make no attempt to fabricate either of these potions with malicious intent.” Here was my room to wiggle, for I truly had no malicious intent in my research. “And I swear neither to speak nor to write of my discoveries, nor show them to another soul.” The last given as near as possible in his words that his attention might be drawn from the previous part. It would be hard. I would no longer be able to write of my discoveries, nor would I be able to leave the parchment with my most recent scribbling in plain sight. As the oath settled on me, I felt a growing need to hide it — bearable for now since it lay within the pages of a closed book inside a locked room.

“Swear also to destroy any written record you may already have penned on this matter.”

This would make it harder still. “I swear to destroy my writings of the ingredients I have recovered.” They would remain locked in my memory for there were only six, but I would have no way to communicate them. The urge to deal with the parchment in my journal grew within me.

The king returned his wand to his belt. The stern expression on his face remained. He glanced across at Ulric, who passed him a vial of clear liquid.

“Do you know what this is?” the king asked me.

“I might hazard a guess, though I have not your potioneer’s breadth of knowledge.”

“It is veritaserum and you are about to take three drops upon your tongue.”

Again, I had no choice. When the king desired something, the king was given what he desired. He uncorked the vial and indicated that I should open my mouth.

Three drops. They fizzed upon contact but otherwise possessed no flavour. I felt nothing different for having been given them.

“When I informed you that the original potions and the instructions for their manufacture had been destroyed, what was your understanding of my will in this matter?”

“Your will was that there should be no more of the potion in your kingdom.” It came as a surprise to me how readily the words sprang to my mouth. They were out before I could either trap them or change them.

“And what was your immediate response?”

I fought to contain the words, to hold them back before they made their escape, but I may as well have attempted to tear down the castle with my bare hands for all the effect I had. “I went directly to Ulric’s rooms with a mind to recover the means of fabricating the potion.”

I feared the next question for the manner in which it might implicate my friend, but it seemed the king did also. His enquiry next took an entirely different direction than that which I expected.

“And when someone, especially a confident of the king, deliberately chooses to act against what he knows his king’s will to be, what is that called?”

“Treason, your majesty.” I bowed my head, suddenly afraid for far more than what should become of my research.

“And what is the penalty for treason, fool?”

“There is only one, sire. That the traitor be put to death.”

“Do you know of any way in which this might be mitigated?”

“I…” did not.

“I have a thought in mind,” said the king as though it had just occurred to him. “If the matter in question were of a secretive nature and known by only a few, and if the traitor where owed a favour by his king, perhaps he might ask for his ill-considered actions to be overlooked.”

The truth serum still compelled me. “How might my king ever trust his treacherous subject again?”

“This is a question that troubles me also. Perhaps if I knew your motives in disobeying me, I might find a way to renew my faith in you. Randolph, you understand full well how greatly your actions imperilled the kingdom last year. You knew how adamant I was that these potions and the means to make them should be lost to us. I would understand why you would still choose to act as you did.”

And here was the question I’d truly been dreading, and yet had not been asked. The awful truth that lay behind my motives hovered over my tongue, and yet a greater truth overshadowed it and gave me a means of escape. “It is not something I would willingly speak of my liege.”

“And without such understanding, trust melts away. Randolph, would you ask that I not have you executed?”

“With all my heart, sire.” No need for the serum to prompt my response there.

“Then in this manner will I repay you the favour I owe.”

I let out a deep sigh, unaware till that moment that I had been holding my breath.

“Though it sadden me greatly,” he continued, now unable to hold my gaze, “this still leaves unresolved the matter which you yourself have raised. How can I continue to trust you? You are bound by the oath in the matter of this potion, but with a mind as active and imaginative as yours, it will not be long before you find another way to overstep with your mischief…”

“Mischief is my sole purpose in your court, majesty.” I cannot be sure if that was the serum still acting on me though the king took it as such.

“True enough, though as we have seen, unfettered and unguided, it is a dangerous thing. While I do not understand what compels you to choose one action over another, I cannot find it in me to trust you, and while I cannot trust you, I cannot risk having you remain within my court.”

He pulled at his lip and paced back and forth a while, eventually stopping with his back to me.

“Here is my decision on the matter.” The words weighed heavy with him, I could tell, and a new trickle of fear entered my blood. “Of what has been said and done here in this room, neither of you will speak to anyone. Ulric, you are dismissed from my presence. Randolph, you are dismissed from my service. You have until nightfall to leave the castle and until week’s end to leave the kingdom. I am sorry for this, and I will miss you more than you know, but I can see no alternative course. Now leave me.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, both for Ulric and myself. We roused soon enough that the king had no need to repeat himself, but it was with a slowness born of shock that we departed and made our way back to our apartments, Ulric following me to mine rather than returning direct to his own.

“I am sorry Randolph. I would have been less inclined to say anything had I known the king’s decision.”

“It is of little consequence. The king was right to decide as he did.” Still the veritaserum made an honest man of me.

“What will you do?”

“As my king commands. I will be gone from the castle by nightfall and from the kingdom some few days hence.”

“No, but what will you do?”

“Perhaps I will ask the king for a reference when I bid him farewell. There are wealthy houses beyond Fareway’s borders that will have need of a fool.”

“Have you not had your fill of such a living?”

“It is all I know, Ulric.” I laughed, but with little humour. “Besides, it affords one certain freedoms that are not common to most men.”

“Is there anything I can do to make up for my part in this?”

I was about to shrug off his offer. Made from politeness as it was, it demanded a polite refusal, but then this would be the last time I’d see him and he had brought me to this end, so politeness could go hang itself.

“If I am to leave Fareway, I will likely find myself in a kingdom where things magical are scarce. If you have to spare some fairies’ wings and some unicorn hair, I would value such a gift beyond measure.”

“Randolph! You vowed not to pursue this nonsense. It will be your life should you break the vow, be you in a magical kingdom or no.”

“I know what I vowed, friend, and I have no intention of breaking it. What if I should have need to use your new recipe?”

“If that is your intent, then I will gladly accommodate you, but do not make me a part in your suicide.”

“I have no wish to die, Ulric. Did I not beg for my life not five minutes gone?”

He nodded reluctantly and left me to my packing.

First matters first though. The vow compelled me, and I took from my journal the page upon which I had made my earlier corrections. That one sheet was all I had for nigh on a year’s hard work. I stared at it with regret for a moment, reading through the words I’d written, ensuring they were indelibly etched into my mind, then I set a corner of it to a nearby candle flame and let it burn to a crisp, dropping it into a tray to let the last of it burn, leaving a thin black sheet which would soon enough crumble to nothing.

I set about packing, which took not long at all. Apart from my motley, of which I had several, my Lady Rubella dress and a few odds and ends, I had little enough to call my own. The journal was the last, but a knock came to the door just as I was about to reach for it.

“This seems little enough repayment for what I have done to you,” Ulric said as I opened the door and allowed him in. He held in his hands two small packets, each neatly labelled with the things I’d asked for.

“I’m grateful for it nonetheless,” I said taking them and adding them to my small chest.

He took in the burnt parchment paper and nodded a little. “You see how the vow works?”

“It is hard to ignore.”

“And best not to try. Is this your journal?” He picked up the book, staring intently at the blank page.

“It is, and of a private nature.” I reached for it, but he turned and eluded me.

He picked up the burnt remains of the sheet I had so recently destroyed and crumbled them to fine ash in his hands. He then sprinkled the powder on the blank page and gently blew off the excess. A moment’s further close study led to a satisfied nod and a firm closing of the book which he passed back to me.

“Well, fare thee well fool Randolph. I cannot fully express how sorry I am that matters should end between us in this manner. You were an agreeable student and a better friend. I shall miss you, and I do wish you well in whatever the future brings.”

He held out a hand and I was not so churlish as to ignore it. With my small chest packed and lifted to my shoulder, I stepped out of the suite of rooms I had called home for all of seven years and looked to the guard who had been assigned as my escort. He led me, not to the gates of the castle as I expected, but to the royal chambers where both king and queen awaited me.

“Your majesties.” I could think of little else to say.

The king placed a small but weighty sack on the table between us. The neck was not drawn tight, and I could see within it the glint of gold, certainly more gold than I had ever thought to own.

“A token of our gratitude for the energy with which you have entertained us these past years,” the king said, “and of our regret that you should be departing our service in this manner.”

I looked across at the queen whose eyes were puffy and red but who added nothing to the king’s words.

“Your majesties are excessively generous,” I said, though with little feeling, for almost none remained to me.

“Here also is a letter of referral to whomsoever you may approach in search of your next appointment. In all but this last act you have shown yourself to possess intelligence, wit and resourcefulness, and I would have this be known to any who might consider employing you.”

I took the scroll and bag of coins and added them to my travel chest. Something seemed expected of me so I searched my wit, intelligence and resource for a response and found little enough there.

“I am grateful for your patronage, your majesties, as much as for your gifts.” I bowed low.

“There is a carriage in the courtyard. The driver has been told to await your arrival until sundown. If you arrive before then, he will offer you passage as far as you need to go. Marlbright is on his route and there is a portal not far outside the town that will take you to the mundane world. You have both our best wishes for your future.”

I bowed again, not daring to speak further. It almost seemed as though my dismissal was my idea and against their wishes, and I felt that, should I open my mouth, I might say something to that effect. Neither asking for his permission to withdraw nor waiting for it, I left the chamber. The guard who had accompanied me thus far still waited.

“I suspect that our next destination is the courtyard,” I told him and led the way.

There is little more to say on this matter. The coachman took me as far as Marlbright with two overnight stays. I hid the king’s gold about my person and in various parts of my belongings against the likelihood of robbery, that though a thief might take some of it, he would not get its whole.

So it is I find my calligraphy turned to an infant’s scrawl. I fear I have not the courage to impart the knowledge I have won through such hardship and sacrifice and must leave it to another to reveal my secrets. They granted me peace at the end of a long hard road, and I would that they might do as much for any who seek the same. I cannot write plain and so leave this, my final riddle, for any discerning enough to understand.

My vow compels me to destroy all I have written of my discoveries, and yet once all that was written had been destroyed, there remained that which had not been written but might still be read.

My vow compels me to show nothing of my work to another soul, and yet that which has been hidden has not been shown, though it may still be found.

My vow compels me to neither speak nor write of what I know in this matter, and yet singing is not speech. A nonsense rhyme may be sung to soothe a child at bedtime. It may be passed from mother to child and perhaps eventually penned by another’s hand.

In all this the vow has not been broken, and so my life be spared. I find I have not sufficient spine to reveal any more, and yet perhaps that which may not be found within may yet exist without.