The Scepter's Return Read Online Free Page A

no position to tell him what a wicked fellow he was. The other king didn’t hesitate, either, when he saw a face or a form that struck his fancy. Queen Estrilda had given him as much trouble for it as Sosia gave Lanius.
    This time, though, Lanius left the small dining room by his bedchamber in a warm glow of injured innocence. He really had intended to go to the moncats and nowhere else. Well, almost nowhere else—he stopped in the kitchens for some scraps of meat first. “You’re going to waste more good food on those thieving, miserable creatures,” one of the cooks said, sadly shaking her head.
    â€œThey aren’t miserable.” Lanius couldn’t deny that moncats stole, because they did. The cook only sniffed.
    When the king got to the moncats’ chamber, he opened the door with care. He didn’t want them getting out. With their grasping hands and feet and with their agility, they were hard as a demon to catch when they got loose.
    Some of the moncats in the room were washing themselves, some sleeping with their tails wrapped around their noses, and some climbing on the framework of boards and branches that did duty for a forest. They stared down at Lanius out of green or yellow eyes.
    They were clever animals, clever enough to give him the uneasy feeling they were measuring him with those glances, measuring him and finding him … perhaps barely adequate. “Pouncer?” he called. “Are you here, Pouncer, you miserable beast?” He stole the cook’s word now that she couldn’t hear him do it, though he meant it for reasons different from hers.
    He laughed at himself. He was a fairly miserable creature in his own right if he expected Pouncer or any other moncat to come when called. Moncats weren’t just like ordinary house cats. Thanks to their hands and sharp wits, they could make bigger pests of themselves than house cats could. But they were every bit as cross-grained as the most ordinary tabby.
    Pouncer should have been here. The moncat shouldn’t have been able to get out. But it could. Lanius had yet to figure out how it managed the trick. Once, Pouncer had disappeared right before his eyes. He’d stopped watching the moncat for a moment—no more than a moment—and when he looked back, Pouncer wasn’t there to be watched anymore. It made the king wonder who was smarter than who.
    Moncats crowded around him. They knew he often brought them treats. He doled out a few scraps of meat. A couple of snarling squabbles broke out; moncats had no more in the way of manners than any other animals (or, for that matter, small children) did. As Lanius fed the others, he kept looking around for Pouncer—and finally spotted the male at the top of the climbing apparatus.
    Lanius lay down on his back. He thumped his chest with his free hand. Pouncer knew what to do when that happened. The moncat scrambled down and jumped up on top of the king. “That’s a good boy,” Lanius said, and scratched it under the chin and behind the ears.
    Pouncer wasn’t a bad-tempered beast, and put up with it. All the same, the moncat practically radiated impatience. I’m not doing this trick for your sake, it would have said if it could talk. Where’s my meat?
    â€œHere, you greedy thing.” Lanius held out a piece. Pouncer took it from his hand with a clawed thumb and forefinger. The moncat didn’t snatch, but was careful not to hurt the person giving it a reward.
    Once Pouncer had the treat, what point was there to staying with Lanius any longer? Away the moncat went, back up on the boards. Lanius stared after it. I taught you an ordinary little trick, he thought. What could someone who really knows how to train animals do?

CHAPTER TWO
    King Grus swung up into the saddle. General Hirundo, who was already mounted, grinned slyly. “You’re getting pretty good at that, Your Majesty,” he said.
    â€œOh, shut up,” Grus