“Well, who does, if not me? You’re only still alive thanks to me,” the jester said, puffing himself up proudly.
“The things I have had from you, my little green prankster, include prickly thorns across my backside, cold water in my bed, a stupid prophecy, and the false title of a dralan, with a fancy peacock’s outfit—a gift from the duke—to go with it. And by the way, where is my costume? I’d like to take a look at what you ordered for our obliging innkeeper to pick up for me. What am I wearing to the reception?”
“Ah!” said the jester, taking my point. “You’ll soon see.”
“Soon? Why not right now?”
“We still have one important thing left to do. Follow me, Dancer in the Shadows, and you will have your final lesson.”
“You can go into the darkness! Is there no end to all this?” I asked furiously. “You tormented me all day long with that heraldry of yours. It’s enough to drive the Nameless One crazy, let alone an ordinary thief. That’s enough lessons for today!”
“You’re not an ordinary thief. You’re a master thief,” said the jester, pointing his finger at me. “And I must at least show you how to dance in respectable company.”
Every idea Kli-Kli has is crazier than the last one.
“Why not teach me to deliver babies, too? Dralans don’t get invited to dance. And anyway, I know how to dance without any lessons from you.”
“Yes, you do, some djanga or galkag or whatever.” Kli-Kli gulped down a cherry, screwed up his left eye, took aim, and spat the stone out the window. “But noblemen’s dances are quite different altogether. Come on, you don’t want to mess things up just at the wrong moment, do you?”
I groaned, not for the first time that day, but there was nothing to be done and I had to tramp after the jester into the large open hall, cursing the day that had brought the two of us together.
All the Wild Hearts were gathered in the hall. Even Bass was there. He was frowning in puzzlement at the soldiers’ rather strange servants’ costumes but, fortunately, he didn’t understand a thing.
“Hey, Deler!” Kli-Kli called. “Come over here!”
The dwarf broke off his quarrel with Hallas and waddled to us without hurrying. In his bodyguard’s outfit he looked like a cow in the uniform of the Heartless Chasseurs.
“What do you want?”
“Listen, Deler, for the sake of the common cause, do us a favor.”
“Well?” he said, squinting suspiciously at us as the idea penetrated that a favor is something you do for nothing—and dwarves don’t like to do anything for nothing.
“Put your arms round Harold.”
Deler’s face turned gray.
“What do you…? Kli-Kli, you’re a friend of mine, but … I could punch you in the face—”
“You fool, Deler! This is a dancing lesson.”
“A-a-ah!” the dwarf drawled as the light dawned, and he took off his bowler hat and ruffled up his ginger hair. “Then I’m too short for this; you need Honeycomb.”
“Honeycomb,” Kli-Kli growled, knitting his brows. “Honeycomb is such a great bear, he’ll flatten Harold’s feet.”
“Well, Arnkh then.”
“Arnkh?”
“Why not? I agree! This should be very amusing!” the bald warrior chuckled, getting up from the table.
Amusing? Somehow I didn’t share this old war dog’s passionate enthusiasm for launching into a dance.
“That’s just wonderful! Right then, Arnkh, put your arms round Harold. Put your hands on his waist. On his waist. You know what a waist is, don’t you? That’s it! Now Harold, why are you standing there like a statue? You do the same. Right! Your backs! Hold your backs straight. What kind of paralytics are you, may the orcs take me! That’s it! Now watch what you have to do.”
The goblin performed a short series of intricate and absolutely bizarre steps.
“All right?” he asked when he got his breath back.
“It reminds me of a Doralissian jumping around after someone tipped red-hot coals down his trousers,” said Hallas, expressing the general opinion.
The gnome’s final words were drowned in laughter.
“Why, you dolts! This is the most fashionable dance there is right now!” said Kli-Kli, trying to shout above the laughter.
The laughter turned into a loud roar.
The jester snorted in annoyance and turned his attention to me and Arnkh.
“Don’t just stand there as if you’re frozen solid. Do what I do. Follow the count!”
I felt like an absolute idiot.
“And … One-two-three, one-two-three! Make the steps more distinct! Three … Straighten that back! Two- three! Harold, don’t drag your foot! One-two-three!”
Arnkh crushed the toes on my right foot, and we almost fell down when Kli-Kli speeded up the rhythm.
Everybody just kept laughing. Lamplighter took out his reed pipe started playing a tune for us. Master Quidd came to see the free show. The elves came down into the hall. Then Alistan showed up. Our beloved count had a very pleased expression on his face. Well, naturally; it’s not every day that you see the likes of this.…
“One-two-three. Lift that foot higher. One-two-turn-three!” Kli-Kli just kept going, never falling silent for a moment. Arnkh stepped on my foot again, and I hissed in pain.
Finally it was over, and I caught my breath.
“Kli-Kli, why did you have to teach Harold to dance?” the elfess asked the goblin curiously. “After all, you know that Balistan Pargaid absolutely detests dancing, and there won’t be anything of the kind at the reception.”
“Ah, you—”
“Harold, I had to cheer you all up and raise the spirits of our troops!” the goblin whined, as if his feelings were hurt. “What are you so angry about?”
I controlled myself.
“Harold, you only have a quarter of an hour left to get changed,” Eel reminded me.
The warrior was already decked out in his costume. A real duke, I swear by the light! Thanks to Miralissa’s magic, his face had become less swarthy for the time being. His black hair had turned lighter, and now no one would ever have guessed that Eel was a Garrakian.
“Bah! Eel! We could crown you king of Garrak, dressed like that!” Honeycomb exclaimed admiringly.
Eel’s cheek twitched at those words.
“Kli-Kli, where are my clothes?”
The goblin peeped out warily from behind Bass, trying to assess his chances of living to a decent old age, then made up his mind and blurted out: “Let’s go, then.”
“Where are you going?” Bass asked casually.
Ell suddenly appeared in front of Snoop and offered to escort him to his room. He laughed, got up, and followed the elf. Kli-Kli led me back to our room. My clothes were laid out neatly on the made-up bed. I cast a skeptical eye over them, turned to the jester, and growled. “Are you making fun of me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the goblin replied hastily. “What is it you don’t like this time?”
“Those aren’t clothes, they’re a peacock’s feathers!”
“All dukes are a bit like peacocks. These are perfectly normal clothes for noblemen. Not to mention dralans. Those lads like their outfits to be splendid.”
“Alistan doesn’t dress like that!”
“Alistan is the captain of the king’s guard, not a dralan who has been invited to a formal reception.”
“I’m not a dralan, and you know that perfectly well! And apart from that, I can’t even imagine how to put all this on!”
“We’ll soon manage that,” Kli-Kli declared boldly, and started rummaging through the expensive rags with his tongue hanging out.
When the goblin led me across to the mirror, I was struck dumb. I was wearing a blinding white silk shirt
