My pallet, bulging with my satchel, was an island yards from the others. I carried it to the nearest cluster.
But as soon as I set it down, a woman servant turned around. “Sleep elsewhere.”
I chose better this time, placing myself behind Master Jak’s broad back, where no one seemed to notice me. Now, if only I had the cupped ears of a donkey for better hearing.
“. . . beeswax candles . . . niece . . . Beeswax! Worth . . .” I heard a sniffle, something mumbled.
“. . . kind . . .”
“. . . Two Castles . . .”
I leaned over the edge of the pallet, set my forearms down, and pulled myself nearer to the voices. The pallet’s wooden frame slid silently on the dirt floor.
Ah. Now I could hear.
“What was the longest he ever stayed a monkey?”
“Two weeks, by thunder.” The speaker was Master Jak. “When he grew big again, he half ate the castle out of food. Never lost his ogre appetite.”
“Might he . . .”
“Perhaps.”
“In a hidey-hole.”
“Growing hungry.”
“Frightened, by thunder.”
Silence fell. These people loved him. I wondered if I’d hear like talk from each cluster and from the sleeping servants if they were awake.
Someone snuffed out the lamp. People became shapes. The murmuring continued. I wished they would talk about the moment before the transformation. Master Jak had been in the kitchen, but some of the others might have served the guests. One might have seen or heard something: a nod, a word, a guest’s hand flash in a cat signal.
The whispering began again.
“Misyur will read the will.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, by thunder. We’ll keep searching tomorrow. But soon.”
“What will become of us?”
Whispering voices sounded much alike. I had recognized Master Jak’s only because of his by thunder and the masculine rumble under his whisper.
My heart skipped. Could I ask a question and have each think another had spoken?
The conversation moved along. “Will the king let His Lordship’s will stand? His Highness wants this castle.”
“Two castles in Two Castles, and both his.”
“We’ll lose our places, very likely.”
“I wouldn’t serve Greedy Grenny if he got down on his royal knees and begged me.”
“He went back to eating after His Lordship turned into a mouse. I won’t serve him either.”
The murmurs turned to where servants might be needed. Slowly, slowly, I crawled off my pallet, holding my breath, hoping the whispers would cover my tiny sounds.
I wanted my voice to come from within the circle, and at last I knelt between two people. The servants discussed the merits of serving nobility or burghers. I rehearsed what to say and how to say it, while waiting for a pause. If they had gone over my question already, they’d catch me.
My knees grew numb. They spoke of monthly half holidays and wages.
Finally, silence fell.
My heart raced. I counted three beats, then whispered, “Did . . .” Mansion the accent! Draw out the vowels. Pound the consonants. “Did anyone see a signal along the table? A . . . a signal to the cats?”
I drew back.
Pause . . . Pause . . .
They were going to find me!
Pause . . .
“Or a signal from the dais, by thunder. Any of them up there could have done it.”
“It happened so quick.”
I inched back to my pallet.
“They were lifting tumblers, their knives . . .”
“Feeding each other.”
“The princess gave away more than she ate. Not like her father.”
“Everyone was laughing at the snake coming out of the girl’s mouth. I laughed, too.”
“Egad, Master Thiel could have done it. Hates His Lordship.”
A female whisper said, “They all hate His Lordship.”
“Not so much as Thiel.”
“Nesspa would have protected his master.”
“Thiel didn’t have to signal. Likely he gave the cat instructions. That Pardine is as smart as—”
“We mustn’t name folks. We don’t know.”
“If it was a signal, who could see a wrist flick in all those people?”
“By thunder, I would have seen.”
“By thunder, you mightn’t have. Somebody could have signaled under the table.”
“If one cat saw the signal, all would join the chase.”
“Perhaps no one signaled. A cat might just go.”
“The dogs at the hearths should have protected him.”
“They had bones to chew. He didn’t make a pet of any of them.”
The voices quieted again, and soon the broad back in front of me stretched out flat. The others settled, too.
I reviewed every remark, my thoughts snagging on Master Thiel. Could he show such courtesy and good humor and still try to murder a person—an ogre?
I hadn’t thought the word murder before, but if His Lordship had been eaten, then murder it was, and no cat the true killer.