Next came the assassin. I thought as much of him then as I think of him now, especially after his last folly where he failed to bring our benefactor a gift.
Last and certainly least came the one called Death Jester. If the Savant�s plan was to use him to kill all humor in the world, he might have chosen a great champion. If this was to be his dark amusement he might have had a better chance of succeeding if he picked one of the ghosts as a jester. The Marquesa of Shadowed Intimacies, as the trollop calls herself these days, is by far more amusing then this wretch.
The two champions already in service of the Deathlord never bothered me much. The necromancer keeps to his workshop and the general keeps to his troops, which leaves the court to me.
Yet I still do wonder whether the princesses� betrothal to the Commander had any significance. Perhaps she had been betrothed before I came. Or perhaps the Savant didn�t trust me being the only player in the court. Or the Savant didn�t want to bother me with another irritating woman.
One thing that has begun to worry me of late is these dreams and these memories I seem to have that I cannot recall as mine and yet are mine. Mayhap I should ask the Savant if he knows more about this. Yet maybe he will see this as a sign of weakness. I think I should wait, mayhap I�ll figure it out myself. I do not prize myself with the intellect of the necromancer yet I�m no peasant bumpkin.