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"
Ah
,
but
poor
stuff
,
you
know
.
Poor
stuff
.
Stray
animals
and
so
forth
,
"
said
Wonse
,
staring
hard
at
the
tabletop
.
"
Obviously
,
as
king
,
such
makeshifts
are
no
longer
appropriate
.
"
The
silence
grew
and
took
on
a
texture
.
The
councillors
thought
hard
,
especially
about
the
meal
they
had
just
eaten
.
The
arrival
of
a
huge
trifle
with
a
lot
of
cream
on
it
only
served
to
concentrate
their
minds
.
"
Er
,
"
said
the
head
merchant
,
"
how
often
is
the
king
hungry
?
"
"
All
the
time
,
"
said
Wonse
,
"
but
it
eats
once
a
month
.
It
is
really
a
ceremonial
occasion
.
"
"
Of
course
,
"
said
the
head
merchant
.
"
It
would
be
.
"
"
And
,
er
,
"
said
the
head
assassin
,
"
when
did
the
king
last
,
er
,
eat
?
"
"
I
’
m
sorry
to
say
it
hasn
’
t
eaten
properly
ever
since
it
came
here
,
"
said
Wonse
.
"
Oh
.
"
"
You
must
understand
,
"
said
Wonse
,
fiddling
desperately
with
his
wooden
cutlery
,
"
that
merely
waylaying
people
like
some
common
assassin
-
"
