The Report in Fleck’s Hand

The morning report said the Emperor had slept well. Ottokar read it twice before the clerk carried it toward the council chamber.

The words were in Master Fleck’s hand, neat and narrow. Beside them, someone had written that Ludolf’s strength showed small improvement. Ottokar knew what the servants had carried into the chapel crypt. He knew what Wierach had told him to keep quiet. He still wanted to see his grandfather.

He waited outside Fleck’s workroom until the clerk disappeared around the passage. The physician was alone, writing at a table crowded with bottles and folded cloth. A charcoal brazier warmed a small pot of water. Fleck had his sleeves rolled up and a smear of ink on one thumb.

“Master Fleck.”

The physician put down his pen. “Highness. You shouldn’t be here without your tutor.”

“I asked Wierach to take me to Grandfather. He said he was resting.”

“He is resting.” Fleck’s gaze dropped to the report on the table. “That is what the household has been told.”

“Can you take me to him?”

Fleck closed the report, covering the lines with his palm. “I can’t.”

Ottokar stood by the door. He had planned to say less. The words came out anyway. “Was he alive when you wrote that?”

The physician kept his hand on the paper. The brazier ticked as the water heated.

“Highness, you must be careful what you ask.”

“I am asking you.”

Fleck looked toward the passage, then crossed it and shut the door. “I know what you saw at the chapel.”

“Then you know the steward lied.”

“He did.” Fleck’s fingers curled against the latch. “And so did I.”

Ottokar moved closer to the table. “Grandfather is dead.”

Fleck nodded once. “He died yesterday morning.”

The answer left the room smaller. Ottokar looked at the covered report. He had been waiting for Wierach to send for him. He had read his lesson while the servants moved through the palace, carrying salt past the chapel door. “Did he ask for me?”

“He did.” Fleck returned to the table but did not sit. “Before I called for the Arch-Steward, His Majesty asked that you be brought to him.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“I should have.” Fleck rubbed the ink from his thumb with a scrap of linen. “I thought Wierach would bring you. Then the Emperor was gone, and there were people at the door.”