"Mimus," he said, "you must help me."
When the jester turned to look at him, Florin detected compassion in his eyes. "Help you?" he asked.
"Yes, to save my father."
"Your father is to die tomorrow night," Mimus said quietly. "I cannot bring the dead back to life."
"Bellingar will fall tomorrow night," Florin said resolutely. "And now, run and tell the king for all I care, but so do at once!"
Mimus stared at him in silence, so Florin went on: "Our rescuers have undermined the castle. Tomorrow they will set fire to the foundations, then Bellingar's walls will collapse."
Slowly, as if the information had trickled into his head drop by drop, like sticky sap, the jester nodded.
Florin jumped up excitedly. "Don't you understand? A few hours' delay, and my father will be saved!"
He made to seize Mimus's arm, but the jester roughly thrust his hand aside and turned away.
Florin stared at his back. It was a mistake, he thought in despair. I shouldn't have told him.
Acting on a sudden flash of inspiration, he drew the fool's sceptre from his belt. "How dare you pester your venerable master in this way, little Mimus!" he demanded shrilly, as if the wooden head itself were speaking.
"I most humbly beg your pardon, worthy Sir Blockhead," he replied in his own voice, "but I know of no one else who can help me."
"You expect your venerable master to risk his neck on your account?" snarled the bauble. "He must go and tell the king this instant!"
"Pardon me for contradicting you, Your Wooden Worship, but he won't."
"And why not, pray?"
"Because I'm his friend," said Florin, "and he is mine."
"Your friend? Fiddlesticks!" the wooden head said angrily. "I am his only friend. You are a troublesome little fool from Moltovia, where they can't tell apples from pears."
Out of the corner of his eye, Florin saw a smile flit across Mimus's face. Then the jester said abruptly: "No harm must come to the king."
"What else have I just been speaking of?" Florin said, looking puzzled. "My father must be..." He broke off and stared at Mimus. "Theodo, you mean?"
"Yes. If you promise me that no harm will come to him, I'll help you."
No harm? Florin's throat went dry. But I mean him harm, he thought. I want to reduce his castle to rubble before his eyes, then put a sword to his throat. I want him to whimper for mercy like a dog, like a...
"How can I make such a promise?" he said quickly. "You've no idea of the tumult that will - "
Mimus brushed his objection aside with a single gesture. "You're the king's son. They'll listen to you."
The eyes beneath the fool's cap glowed darkly as he looked at Florin. "Promise it, then I'll help you."
from Mimus by Lilli Thal
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