Moonshadows

“I’ve been watching you, Malone, and I don’t think you’re quite the fool you appear to be.” Stiff back, haughty tilt to the head, hands tucked into the opposite sleeves.

“What makes you say that, my dear Seventy-six?” Prowling on all fours, bells jingling innocently.

“Because I was manning the machine, that day in the Chamber of Oblivion,” he says, as though to a small child, “and I didn’t erase your memories.”

Cartwheel away. “Can’t erase what isn’t there!” Hand in my hair, jerking me back. “Urk.”

“Listen to me and listen well,” he hisses. “His Lordship has re-erased his Keys in the past. I gave you this chance, and I can take it away again.”

“What do you want?”

“I have lived a very long time. I have watched His Lordship slip from being a cunning, but evil, ruler to being just an evil one. He’s losing touch. Drifting. I want you to encourage that.”

Beneath my mask, my eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because, my dear Fool,” he makes the word a title rather than an insult. “The more he loses touch with the day-to-day details of running his empire, the more those burdens fall upon men who are not psychotic, evil megalomaniacs who can’t be killed and therefore care little for the lives of their subjects.” He lets go.

Tumble away, summersault back. “You want the puppet master to turn into a puppet.”

Hands back in his sleeves. “He’s already turning into one. I want you to keep him on that path.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Thin smile. “Because I cannot betray you to him without also betraying myself.”

Beep his nose. “Correct! You pass the test!” Cracked giggle.

“You’ll do it, then?”

Shrug, making the bells jingle. “Why not? A Fool has to have something to amuse himself with while he amuses others.”