Café de Nuit

Tuke nods his head. "Pleased we understand each other, then." He attempts to leave again, palm still stinging and red.

Tuke screams loudly in pain. Pushing away the momentary agony, he gently sings to himself - not the poetry of before, but the lullabye his mother sang to him as a child when he scraped himself. Whatever the song, the Lady hears, and his agony dims. (1) He takes a moment to hum an old trail tune ...

Tuke swallows hard.

"Fine, fine! I'll juggle! Sweet Ezra, everyone's a critic!"

Without thinking too hard about what he just mouthed off to, Tuke heads out to the orchards to find a bushel of apples to juggle.

Tuke regards Roderigo with a certain amount of horror in his gaze. Clearly, the man is very much aware of how little control he has over upcoming events. Oh, you poor man. You have no idea how badly I want my next trick to be a vanishing act.

Nevertheless, Tuke puts on a brave face. " Not to worry ...

Can I point out, oh so gently my friends and neighbors, that if you'd brung the bard along that frightful moan would probably be a nonisssue? Countersong and all that?

In between Goran's remonstration and the news of the celebration to come, Tuke has fallen very silent. Upon seeing Agna's distress, though, Tuke hops down from the counter and squeezes Agna's hand. Tuke's fingers feel oddly long and slender for a hand so tiny.

" Don't worry about it, Agna. I'll ...

Tuke snorts at Goran's words. "I'm so short that if I didn't get ahead of myself, I'd go backwards." While the dough is resting, Tuke digs into the larder for some hard cheese. "Grab a bite while you can, Agna. I'll find something to toss on top of that trail dough."

Tuke shakes his head a little bit in mock regret. " I'm warning you, it's always a mistake to let a jester cook for you. Everything ends up tasting funny. " Despite his words, Tuke chips in with a willing hand, tossing together a flatbread dough. " If I might make a suggestion to my betters... we ...

" Oh, not much. We went out to the tomb. The priest got the vapors. Did you know that he likes peanuts? Aren't peanuts sinful? If they are, I think I did him a favor. "

Tuke scowls. " But something very strange indeed is going on. They found the old woman's body in the the coffin. Which means that ...

" Of course ". Tuke swings the door wide, pushing with both hands. He stretches as he enters the house. " Maybe a bite in the cupboards sounds nice. All things told, we might have to fend for ourselves. I remember some apples and cheese being stashed away somewhere... "

As Tuke walks to the kitchen ...

Tuke slides down off the back of Tristan's horse like a sack of meal. He puffs on his pipe one last time, gently sighs a blue smoke ring into the air, and taps out the spent tobacco on his boot. " Well, I ought to see if my sweet mistress needs some amusement this morning. Should I take any messages ...

Tuke looks up at Julian, a sorrowful and contrite look on his face. " I'm so sorry, Master Julian. A little fool like me doesn't have much room for brains in his head, and I do let my mouth prattle on. I'll be good, I promise. " (1)

Behind his well-rehearsed facade, Tuke looks at the paladin with ...

Tuke blinks. " What? Luisa's body was in the tomb? What on earth ?" Baffled, the little fool racks his brain, trying to think of any tales that give a hint as to what happened last night (1) . " If that wasn't a 'real' zombie, then something else created that parody of Luisa. Either it was sorcery ...

Tuke nimbly hops off of his ecclesiastical seat. "So, what was in the tomb?"

Tuke flushes a bit guiltily. "The poor man seems to have been a bit vaporish. There's little anyone can do for him save let him rest and pray, I suspect." Embarrassed, Tuke tries to think of something useful to offer. "Um... would you like a peanut?"