Thick's voice trailed off for a moment as he breathed through his open mouth, pondering. The Prince looked acutely uncomfortable, but both Chade and I managed to retain blandly interested expressions. Thick abruptly resumed his tale. "Then, I thought, where is he? Maybe it's a game. He's hiding from Thick. So I go, 'Prince' and he goes, 'Be quiet.' So I am and Thick is small, and the music goes around and around me. Like hiding in the curtains. Then I peep, just a tiny peep. And it's a big fat lizard, blue, blue like my shirt, but shiny when she moves, like the knives in the kitchen. Then she says, 'Come out, come out. We can play a game.' But Prince says, 'Sh, no, don't,' so I don't, and then she gets mad and gets bigger. Her eyes go shiny and whirl round and round like that saucer I dropped. And then Thick thinks, 'But she's on the dream side. I'll go on the other side.' So I made the music get bigger and I woke up. And there wasn't a lizard but my red blanket was on the floor."

He finished his telling with a great gasp, having run out of breath, and looked from one of us to the other. I found myself giving Chade the tiniest of Skill-pokes. He glanced at me, but contrived to make it seem a chance thing. I felt tremendous pride in the old man when he said, "An excellent report, Thick. You've given me much to consider. Let us hear the Prince now and then I'll see if I have any questions for you." Thick sat taller in his chair and his chest swelled with such pride that the fabric of his shirt strained across his round belly. His tongue still stuck out of his wide froggy grin, but his little eyes danced as he looked from Dutiful to me to be sure we had noticed his triumph. I wondered when impressing Chade had become so important to him, and then realized that this too was an imitation of his prince.