I wanted to ask who did, in that case, but he went on without giving me a chance.

“And at the same time as I think this, I am filled with doubt, whether it is only my pride that even makes me imagine the bishop has such a plan. If I were truly humble, I would take the duties God sends me without worrying either about a possible promotion or my ability to carry out those duties.”

“So leaving Yurt wouldn’t bother you,” I said, highly irritated. To me, having Joachim leave the kingdom permanently would be almost as bad as having the royal family leave. Apparently he saw it differently. “All that bothers you is some moral dilemma.”

Now his eyes did focus on me again. “I shouldn’t have tried to explain it to you,” he said stiffly. “I should have realized a wizard wouldn’t appreciate moral concerns.”

The bird had stopped singing. We resaddled our horses and rode on toward the count’s castle.

“It runs like a rabbit,” the count told us as we ate dinner. So far, I thought, this did not sound like a particularly frightening magical creature. The count was a little younger than the king, but not by much. He had the same wispy white hair but otherwise was built very differently, being round and jolly-looking. “But it’s much bigger than a rabbit-closer to the size of a fox, or even a small hound.”

“So you’ve seen it?” I asked, setting down my fork.

“I saw it yesterday, just once,” the count said, “but my men have seen it several times in the last two days. It has, how can I describe this, an unfinished appearance. It moves awkwardly, almost as though it was about to fall apart. But the strangest thing about it,” he paused, and I felt a cold finger touch the back of my neck, “is that instead of rabbits’ ears it has horns.”