The old woman, from her usual place in the shade, said, "If for nothing but luck, the adoption was wise. Look! When they can't get melons they take tomatoes or squash."

"It's early in the season. When the stalls are full and there's produce left for the hogs, things won't look so bright. Do you think we could get a tutor for Varth?"

"A tutor? Royal! We're peasants."

"Castes are castes, but there're ways to get around that. Silver is the best. And we've got some we'll never use otherwise. I just thought he might want to learn his letters. Seems a pity to waste a mind like his on farming. But I wouldn't get involved with anyone important. The village priest, maybe. He might take the job for fresh vegetables and a little money to tide his wine-cellar between collections."

"I see you've already decided, so what can I say? Let's tell him, then. Where's he off to now?"

"Across the square watching the boys play handball. I'll fetch him."

"No, no, let me. I'm getting stiff. Mind you watch the tomatoes. Some of these young things are dazzlers. They'll steal you blind while you're trying to get a peek down an open blouse. Those painted nipples..."

"Mama, Mama, I'm too old for that."

"Never too old to look." She stepped between empty tomato crates, past the remainder of the squash, started across the square.

Soon she returned, disturbed. "He wasn't there. Royal. The boys say he left an hour ago. And the donkey's gone."

Royal looked to the corrals. "Yes. Well, I've got a notion where he's gone then. You mind the sly young 'prentices from the wizards' kitchen."

She chuckled softly, then grew grave. "You think he went back where..."

"Uhm. I'd hoped he wouldn't remember, being so young. But the King's lessons aren't easily forgotten. A death at the stake is a haunt fit for a lifetime of nightmares. Have some candy ready when we get back."