Three streets later, they had acquired the silk, a pair of silver cufflinks, a lacquered box Milan insisted was for his mother, and a quantity of roasted chestnuts that could have fed a small garrison.
Andrion, still wiping tears from his eyes, performed his impression for the fourth time.
"'Do you know who I am?'"
He clutched his cheek, eyes wide with theatrical tragedy.
"'I shall tell my cousin!' A grown man, Jolthar. Dressed as a flowerbed."
"Did you see the attendants?" Milan said, grinning.
"They looked like men watching their own funeral and finding it better than expected."
"They looked relieved," Jolthar said, turning the carved fox over in his fingers.
"I suspect they have wanted to do that for years and lacked the nerve."
He held the carving up to the light. "Besides, the boy insulted a very fine fox. Someone had to defend the honor of the species."
Milan laughed so hard that he dropped a chestnut and did not bother retrieving it.
