Every part of his still small body was intent upon willing Tawl to pick up the letter, but he didn't. The knight-for Tawl would never be anything except a knight to Nabber-walked away from the letter and never looked back. A very real pain constricted Nabber's heart and a very real tear fell down his cheek. Swift's words echoed in his ear: "That's what you get for snooping where you're not wanted." How could he have let Tawl go out on his own, though? The knight was weak, injured, and obviously deranged: he'd poured a full skin of ale on the fire! A man like that needed watching, closely. Nabber had spied on Tawl from the moment he got up from his pallet, eventually following him out of the palace. The castle guards had given him a bit of trouble; they didn't believe that he was a guest of the duke. Nabber snorted indignantly. He soon put them right, even had them apologizing and offering to share their supper. Round about now Nabber was wishing he'd taken them up on the offer: there was a hole the size of a decent pork pie in his stomach and it was getting bigger, and not at all quietly at that.
