A chill could not have run through Chade's blood faster if he'd dived naked into the sea of Aslevjal when he hears that voice chirrup over the ruckus. A voice that, regretfully, he would know anywhere.
"My dear grandfather! There you are..."
Never shall it be said that Chade cannot take a hint. When the Fool expresses sickly sweet concern about his hip, as any grandson worth his salt would, Chade lets his tongue fumble the reply for a minute before saying quite clearly, "Well, boy, I imagine you would give me that lovely sleeping draught and then stay out all night, as you so enjoy doing."
As the Fool whisks him away with hardly a care for the delicate hip, Chade makes a great show of limping and treading all over the Fool's garishly expensive clothing (excellent taste, actually; perhaps Chade will happen upon the tailor). "My eyes may be poorly," he allows, "but it hardly matters when I can smell my way across the street. Or is that your perfume? You know my facilities are going, child; help an old man, will you? How very thoughtful; truly, I am blessed..."
They are halfway across the street when Chade really does trip - over nothing; he's simply very good at tripping - and grasps hard at the Fool's sleeve as he goes down, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the road. He cries out in pain and does so only louder if anyone tries to move him. "Oh, by El and Eda both," he declares. "My hip. You were right all along, my grandson; if only we'd the money for a doctor..."
The show is quite convincing if you don't know Chade. Fortunately, no one does.
wow i wonder who that could be
"My dear grandfather! There you are..."
Never shall it be said that Chade cannot take a hint. When the Fool expresses sickly sweet concern about his hip, as any grandson worth his salt would, Chade lets his tongue fumble the reply for a minute before saying quite clearly, "Well, boy, I imagine you would give me that lovely sleeping draught and then stay out all night, as you so enjoy doing."
As the Fool whisks him away with hardly a care for the delicate hip, Chade makes a great show of limping and treading all over the Fool's garishly expensive clothing (excellent taste, actually; perhaps Chade will happen upon the tailor). "My eyes may be poorly," he allows, "but it hardly matters when I can smell my way across the street. Or is that your perfume? You know my facilities are going, child; help an old man, will you? How very thoughtful; truly, I am blessed..."
They are halfway across the street when Chade really does trip - over nothing; he's simply very good at tripping - and grasps hard at the Fool's sleeve as he goes down, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the road. He cries out in pain and does so only louder if anyone tries to move him. "Oh, by El and Eda both," he declares. "My hip. You were right all along, my grandson; if only we'd the money for a doctor..."
The show is quite convincing if you don't know Chade. Fortunately, no one does.