A Tale Without a Name by Penelope S. Delta

unextinguished lantern, and the empty cellar. It also explains to us the jester’s presence by Cunningson’s corpse. The dwarf was no fool; on the contrary, he must have either suspected or known about the existence of the treasure in the High Chancellor’s cellar, and, first thing in the morning, when we were going out unsuspecting to find food, he himself was after a different sort of bounty. He was going down the precipice to find the key, exactly where he knew he would find it, namely inside the dead man’s shirt…”
    Little Irene stared dismally at the jester’s sceptre.
    “So what now?” she asked.
    “Now we must go and ask whether anyone has seen him, and which way he was headed. I do not believe it would be possible for me to catch up with him. But I would like to try.”
    They locked up the cellar and went out.
    Across the street from the house, by the door of a derelict grocer’s shop, there stood a young boy, beggarly looking and pale; he was munching away at a small chunk of hard black bread.
    The Prince went up to him and asked if he worked there.
    “Yes!” said the boy. “This is my uncle’s place, and when he is at the tavern I keep shop for him.”
    “Tell me,” said the Prince, “do you know, perhaps, if the King’s jester passed this way earlier this morning?”
    “That he did! He came to the house of His Excellency Master Cunningson.”
    “Did you see him leave the house? Was he carrying anything?”
    “Yes! He had a haversack slung over his shoulder.”
    “You did not ask him what was in it?”
    “Who, me? I would not dare! He’s been to Master Cunningson’s several times in the past, laden with things, but he always got so angry if anyone asked him what was in his sack. How could I ask! He is nasty and sneaky.”
    “And where did he go?” asked the Prince.
    “He headed towards the vale. He was in a hurry, running fast.” Brother and sister thanked him and took their leave.
    “So, that’s that, he was Cunningson’s accomplice,” said the Prince. “He must have been the one who carried the plunder to him, stealing a few items at a time from the palace.”
    “Do you think we may be able to catch up with him?” asked Little Irene.
    “Who knows?”
    They hurried on towards the vale.
    “And yet, luck is not on our side,” said Little Irene sorrowfully. “If only we had arrived a little earlier, we would have found the treasure!”
    “I see no place for either luck or misfortune in all that has happened,” answered the Prince. “Luck is on theside of the man who can steer his ship out of a storm. If I have lost the treasure, it is my own fault, and no one else’s… And do you know what I am thinking, Little Irene?” he continued, disheartened. “That I shall never achieve my purpose, because I do not know how to read and write! Last night, when I found Faintheart’s letter, if I had known how to read, I would have gone after him at once, perhaps I might have caught him. And then I would have stopped him from going over to our enemies to betray us. Had I been able to read, I would have come immediately to Cunningson’s house, broken down the door of the cellar and found the treasure, which is so vital to us, if we are to reassemble our army once again and buy weapons for its soldiers. Then, I could have still had time. Whereas today, when father finally read the letter, it was too late! Faintheart was far away, the cellar empty. And by now, Faintheart will have arrived at the kingdom of the King our Royal Uncle, and will have already betrayed us. And who knows what storms will fall upon our long-suffering, miserable land, storms I might have averted,
if only I had known how to read and write!
…”
    Little Irene threw her arms around his neck.
    “Do not talk like this! Do not be so distressed!” she said, with tears in her eyes. “It is no fault of yours that you do not know how to read and write!”
    “Until this moment,” the Prince went on, “I had never