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Chapter 14

The king got up to stoke the fire in the hearth and seeing his chance, Bathor took out a small glass phial from beneath the folds of his robe. As quick as an arrow he had the top off and was pouring the contents into the king’s soup. He stirred it once then smiled.

“Have your soup before it gets too cold, father. It’s already cool from the walk from the kitchen.”

The king stood up slowly, his movements full of pain. “Alright, Bathor. Don’t fuss. I’d rather it be a little cool than piping hot. I don’t want to burn my mouth! Saves me blowing on it.”

Bathor nodded. ''You’re right, father.”

The king took a seat, adjusted his robe and picked up the spoon. “What are you doing bringing me my soup, anyway? Have all the servants dropped dead?”

Pan felt his stomach heave a little at the irony of the king’s statement.