This was the creature that had defeated the Banished One, that had returned the Scepter of Mercy to Avornan hands? Watching it, listening to it, the idea seemed absurd. But it was true.
"Come on, you preposterous thing," Lanius said. "You can keep the mouse, but you have to give back the spoon."
He cradled Pouncer in one arm and tried to take the spoon away with his free hand. The moncat hung on with both hind feet. Thanks to their thumbs, it hung on tight. He shrugged and gave up for the time being. The archives could wait. He needed to take the thief back to the scene of the crime.
He hadn't gotten even halfway before he almost ran into a cook. "Your Majesty!" she said, and then, "Oh! You've already caught the miserable beast."
"So I have," Lanius agreed. "Let's go back to the kitchens. Maybe you can trade some mutton for the spoon. Or if that doesn't work, we'll take it away there."
"Mutton!" The cook rolled her eyes. "That thing doesn't deserve mutton. It deserves a poke in the snout for being a nuisance and a thief."
"Oh, I don't know," Lanius said. "Pouncer did get the Scepter of Mercy out of Yozgat, remember. Maybe you could give the beast something for that, eh?"
The cook shook her head. "Who cares about some old Scepter? What's it ever done for me? That's what I want to know."
"We're not fighting the Menteshe anymore, and the Banished One isn't so much trouble," Lanius reminded her. "That's all on account of the Scepter of Mercy."
"Like the Menteshe were ever going to come up to the city of Avornis," the cook jeered. "Like the Banished One ever cared about the likes of me." She laughed at the idea.
And it was silly when you put it in such terms. Lanius couldn't deny it, and didn't try. "Sometimes things that help the kingdom a lot don't matter very much to some of the people who live there," he said. Pouncer bit off the mouse's tail. It dangled from the comer of the moncat's mouth for a moment. Then it disappeared.
When they got back to the kitchens, the head cook laughed to see Pouncer still clutching the silver spoon. Cucullatus' chins and belly wobbled as he laughed; he was fond and more than fond of what he turned out. "So you nabbed the thief, eh, Your Majesty?" he said. "More than the Menteshe ever did, by Olor's beard."
"Menteshe, Menteshe, Menteshe!" The woman who'd gone to get Lanius threw her hands in the air. "Why don't people talk about something important? The price of lard in the market square – that matters. But who cares about a bunch of foreigners, anyway?"
How many people all over Avornis felt the same way? More than a few, probably. Lanius sighed. He couldn't even show her she was wrong; she didn't know enough even to realize how ignorant she was. Instead of trying, the king turned to Cucullatus. "Would you be kind enough to ransom the spoon with a bit of mutton?"
"I can do that," the head cook replied at once, though his underling sniffed. "Will the beast want it, though, what with its dainty there?" He pointed to what was left of the mouse.
"Who knows? All we can do is find out," Lanius answered. "You'll get the spoon back any which way." He tugged on it. Pouncer still didn't want to let go.
"Oh, I know, Your Majesty," Cucullatus said. "Let me go bring you that mutton. Be right back." Off he went. Off went the woman who'd gone to get Lanius, too. She plainly remained convinced she'd outargued the king.
The mutton was fresh, unsullied by either garlic or mint. The moncat meowed on smelling it. Maybe it was better than a murdered mouse. Lanius thought so, but he was no moncat. He got the silver spoon away from Pouncer while the moncat was distracted and handed it to Cucullatus. "Get it out of sight."
"Right you are." The cook tossed it into a bucket of sudsy water. That was perfect. Not only did the spoon disappear, but moncats liked getting wet no better than their ordinary cousins did.
Pouncer seemed torn between mouse and mutton, and ended up nibbling on each in turn. "Thanks for your help, and for the ransom," Lanius told Cucullatus. He explained why he thought Pouncer deserved it.
"What, Your Majesty? You think the Scepter of Mercy is worth a bit of mutton? Seems to me you set a pretty high price on it." Cucullatus' eyes twinkled.
"That's what I told him," said the woman cook who'd come after Lanius. "He didn't want to listen to me – oh, no."
Lanius' eyes met Cucullatus'. The head cook smiled and sighed at the same time, as though to say, What can you do about some people? The answer to that was simple. You couldn't do anything about some people. You had to make the best of them when there was a best to make, and put up with them when there wasn't.
Now Lanius was the one who sighed. He'd been King of Avornis since he was a little boy, and that was what he'd learned? Why hadn't he smoked fish for a living in that case?
When you got down to it, though, plenty of people went through their whole lives without ever figuring out anything so basic about their fellow men and women. If they had realized it, there would have been far fewer quarrels.
Lanius also had to put up with Pouncer. "I'm going to take the thief of Yozgat back to his chamber," the king said. "We'll see how long the beast stays there this time."
"As long as it feels like it, and not a minute longer," Cucullatus predicted. That told Lanius the head cook understood moncats as well as any mere human being was ever likely to.
Pouncer started wiggling even before Lanius opened the door. The moncat knew where it was going, and didn't want to go there. Lanius could put it in the room. Not for all his power could the king make it stay there.
After barring the door again, Lanius started back to his bedchamber. He needed to get away from Elanus every now and then, but he always felt bad about doing it. He hadn't gone far before someone called him. He wasn't too sorry to turn back. "Oh, hello, OUs. What can I do for you today?"
"Hello, Your Majesty." The freed thrall hurried up the corridor toward him. "I just wanted to thank you again for all you've done for my people south of the Stura. You and King Grus, I should say." He shyly bobbed his head.
"I'm glad we did it, and I know Grus was, too. Grus is, I should say." Lanius meticulously corrected himself. He went on, "Seeing you here, and Fulca, too, shows me every day that what we did was worthwhile."
Otus smiled. "Seeing Fulca every day – seeing her the way she's supposed to be, not like a brainless beast – shows me what you did was worthwhile." He bowed. "And I thank you for it, and so does she."
"Sometimes things work out the way you hope they would," Lanius said. "Not always, not even most of the time, but sometimes."
"They did here. You even paid the Banished One back.
That's worth everything, and two coppers more besides," Otus said.
"So it is," Lanius said. Sometimes things did work out. He'd gone from bastard to crowned king, from puppet to king in his own right. Thervingia and the Chernagors and the Menteshe had all harried Avornis. Now no enemy did. Even the Banished One was beaten, as Otus had said. Grus had had a lot to do with that. Lanius couldn't deny it, and didn't try. But I had a lot to do with it myself, he thought proudly. He had the biggest, hardest job in the world, and he'd grown to the point where he could do it and, he hoped, do it well. Slowly, he nodded to himself. No, not bad for someone who'd started out a bastard. Not bad at all. He headed back to Sosia and Elanus.