Over the next few weeks, Jessum had little time to ponder the question. The apprentices were kept busy learning the castle protocol and adjusting to the personalities of those Red Robes assigned to them. 

            Jessum had been assigned to the stables, where he cleaned stalls and shoveled muck. The others rotated their positions, but Jessum remained with McKenna, the head groom. He noticed the slight but refused to comment; he preferred being away from the castle and its intrigues.

            If the boys could be believed, intrigue was never in short supply.

            The King was dying. The Queen was mad. The Earth Skyll was going to make the tree live and rule everywhere. Wabbers ate their young. And on it went. At night when the voices chattered, Jessum buried his head in his pillow and thought of cleaning stalls.

            The other boys, distanced from him since the incident in the Great Throne Room, began to warm up. A few had even teased him about his red hair. The King’s color, though they’d all deny saying it. They seldom saw Elymas, except when he swept down the halls, the torchlights bringing out the rich hues of his robe.

            Ranald was really sick now, and because of this, the castle was kept in perpetual dark. 

            The days flew by in a pattern of routine and exhaustion. They fell into bed bone weary, only to be awakened at dawn. They ate breakfast still shivering from the effects of a cold water sponging, then dispersed to their various jobs. As the incident in the throne room faded, Jessum began to believe he’d imagined the earth Skyll’s dislike. His question had been impertinent. Maybe the Earth Skyll hadn’t said Larnes. 

            Then came the incident with the rulla dice.