[Fools' Guild 08] - The Parisian Prodigal Read Online Free PDF Page A

like that at a counsel of the great—“
    “Nothing strange about that,” I said. “Probably exchanging stories, jokes, songs. Maybe a little friendly competition, who knows?”
    “There was none of that happening while I listened at the door,” he said. “And how is it that they were so well acquainted?”
    “Why, most of us have received training at the Fools’ Guild,” I said. “It wouldn’t be surprising if some of them—“
    “How long do you intend to maintain this charade to my face?” he asked softly. “I know that you are all connected somehow, and that you are more than mere entertainers. Your own conduct since you’ve come to Toulouse, along with that of your remarkable wife, would tell me as much.”
    “Just because we stumbled on some useful information—“
    “Which is all I want from you now,” he said. “Useful information from Paris, from any source you have. I believe that you enjoy my patronage—“
    “Of course, Dominus.”
    “And that you wish to see me continue as count.”
    “For a long and healthy reign, Dominus.”
    “Then do me this favor,” he said. “Please.”
    A request. Not an order. A count was asking for my help. And, damn it all, I was curious about it myself, and it would take much longer to learn anything through Guild channels.
    “I might know a jester in Paris, Dominus,” I said. “If he still lives, he would be a man who knows much.”
    “Thank you, Fool,” he said. “My man leaves in the morning. Be here at daybreak.”
    “Up at dawn two days in a row?” I protested. “You are mistaking me for a working man.”
    “You may go have a nap now,” said the count. “Thank you for your advice. On everything.”
    I bowed and left.
    As I walked into the courtyard, Bernard fell into step by me. “How is he?” he asked.
    “Calming down,” I said.
    “Well done,” said Bernard. “You’re good for him.”
    “It’s what a fool does, senhor.”
    “He trusts you an awful lot for such a short acquaintance,” observed Bernard.
    “Well…”
    “I don’t,” he said.
    “I hope that I may become worthy of your trust in time, senhor.”
    “Trust with me must be earned, Fool,” he said. “Once earned, it must be constantly renewed.”
    “Sounds like hard work for low pay,” I said. “I am averse to working hard. It’s why I became a fool in the first place.”
    “I look out for him,” said Bernard. “More than anyone. You cannot betray my trust, because you haven’t earned it yet. But if I find that you have betrayed his, you will not draw another breath on this earth.”
    “I understand, senhor.”
    We passed through the gate into the city proper.
    “Good day to you, Fool,” he said.
    I bowed low, and we continued our separate ways.
    It was midafternoon. I decided that it was time for ale. I am capable of deciding that any time of day. I turned toward the Porte Montgalhart, which was the next gate up from the château, and walked until I saw a sign showing a tiny man who shone like the sun.
    The Yellow Dwarf served good ale, and the tapster, Hugo, was pleasant toward all and particularly tolerant to fools in that he didn’t have us perform as part of the price of our long sessions at his table. Balthazar had kept a room in the inn above the tavern when he lived, and though he had been dead nearly a year, we honored him by making this the center of the Fools’ Guild for Toulouse. Any visiting fool or troubadour would know to turn up here first, so I made a point of checking in several times a week.
    Oh, and the ale was good. Did I mention that?
    Hugo, who was a hale man in his mid-fifties, was serving a group of soldiers when I came in, but he waved and pointed me toward a table in the corner. Pelardit was already there, a pitcher and several cups in front of him.
    “Are those all for you?” I asked him as I sat down.
    He looked at them, appeared to think for a moment, then reluctantly slid one over to me.
    He was a fool, of course, one