“Because, sir king, I remembered that when the palace cooks were doing inventory, they opened everything and counted it—”

“The palace cooks … you were in the kitchens?”

“Yes, sir king.”

“For what reason?”

Beside him, the crunch of pastry as Aris ate stopped.

“I was snitching treats,” Camwyn said. “It was a dare.”

“I see.” Mikeli turned over the scroll and read the back. “And I see you did a thorough job as far as you got. What about the bottom compartment?”

“Sarnthol told us not to dig into it,” Camwyn said. “He wasn’t really happy we were moving boxes; he said it affected the load’s balance and the bottom compartment was empty.”

“And you believed him?”

Camwyn frowned. “He’s … he’s…” “Adult” would not be a good choice. Some adults did lie. “He’s your servant, sir king. He wears palace livery. I trusted him. Should I not?”

“You should append to this report a note to the effect that he told you not to open the lower compartment. It is true that a teamster is in charge of his load, responsible for it. He has a right to say so, and you have a right to follow his orders, but it is something I need to know. Do you see that?”

“I … I do now.”

“Good. I trust you can finish the rest of this wagon by midday tomorrow and move to the next wagon for the afternoon.”

The next several days passed in the same way: all day inside one swaying, jolting wagon after another, taking inventory in each. By the third day, the teamsters were friendlier, though it was clear that some form of “Prince Camwyn is in disgrace and this is punishment” had passed through the whole entourage. They did not ask what he had done, and their guesses were wide of the mark. To his surprise, his roof exploration back at the palace was widely known, along with earlier adventures.

“Hangin’ about the kitchens takin’ treats—I don’t see as that’s so bad. There’s food enough; it’s not like you was takin’ from others.”

“The Marshal said it was stealing,” Camwyn said, and bit off another hunk of the hard sausage. He liked it now.

“So it was, and a good wallop is what it deserves, not diggin’ through wagons makin’ lists.” Tamnis, teamster from the first wagon in the train, drank deeply from a jug they hadn’t been offered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Here’s what I think—it’s not fair to hide the prince away from those who want to see him—aye, lad, there’s folk who thought they’d see you and the king both.”

“It’s not our business,” Sarnthol said. “They’ll see the prince later, and whatever the king says is fine enough for me. You’d best watch your tongue, Tam.”