‘You were never really good at it, you know. There was a naiveté to you that none of the ugliness could stain, as if you never truly believed in evil. It was what I liked best about you.’ The Fool swayed slightly where he sat, but righted himself. ‘It was what I missed most, when you were dead.’ I smiled foolishly. ‘A while back, I thought it was my great beauty.’ For a time the Fool just looked at me. Then he glanced aside and spoke quietly. ‘Unfair. Were I myself, I would never have spoken such words aloud. Still. Ah, Fitz.’ He looked at me and shook his head fondly. He spoke without
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