“That puts an end to my trip,” he said to Quivven. “How do you suppose his majesty got wind that I am a conjurer?”
“One of the guests at the show last night must have told him,” she replied.
But something in her tone of voice caused Myles to look at her intently, and something in her expression caused him to say, “You know more than you tell. Out with it!”
Whereat Quivven shrugged her pretty golden shoulders, and replied, “Why deceive you? Though you are so stupid that it is very easy. Who brought you the note from Arkilu the night of your arrival here?”
“You did,” Cabot answered. “Why didn’t I put two and two together before? Then you are connected in some way with Arkilu?”
She laughed contemptuously. “How did you guess it?” she taunted. “Yes, one would rather say I am connected in some way with Arkilu; for I am her sister, set here to spy on you by connivance with the chief woman of Jud’s servants, who is an old nurse of ours. I am Quivven the Golden Flame, daughter of Theoph the Grim, and it is from me that he learned of your mystic abilities. What do you think of that, beast?”
“I think,” Myles said noncommittally, “that although you truly are a golden flame, you ought to have been named ‘Quivven the Pepper Pot’.”
Whereat she suddenly burst into tears and rushed out of the room.
“Funny girl,” Myles commented to himself, as he laid aside the list prepared for his prospecting trip, and set about the concoction of some stage properties for his forthcoming command performance before the King.
It was a sulky Quivven who served his meal that evening, so much so that Cabot playfully accused her of putting poison in his stew. This did not render her any more gracious, however.