Fool - By Christopher Moore Page 0,14

and to the opening at the center, bowing to each of the guests as she went. She is shorter and rather more round than her sisters, more generously padded in bosom and bustle, her eyes a grey sky short of emerald, her hair a yellow sun short of ginger. Her smile falls on the eye like water on the tongue of a thirst-mad sailor.

I slid into her chair. "A handsome creature is she," I said to the Duke of Albany. "That one breast, the way it juts a bit to the side - when she's naked, I mean - does that bother you at all? Make you wonder what it's looking at over there - bit like a wall-eyed man you think is always talkin' to someone else?"

"Hush, fool," Albany said. He is nearly a score years older than Goneril, goatish and dull, methinks, but somewhat less of a scoundrel than the average noble. I do not loathe him.

"Mind you, it's obviously part of the pair, not some breast-errant off on a quest of its own. I like a bit of asymmetry in a woman - makes me suspicious when Nature's too evenhanded - fearful symmetry and all. But it's not like you're shaggin' a hunchback or anything - I mean, once she's on 'er back it's hard to get either one of them to look you in the eye, innit?"

"Shut up!" barked Goneril, having turned her back on her father - which one is never supposed to do - in order to scold me. Bloody clumsy etiquette that.

"Sorry. Go on," said I, waving her on with Jones, who jingled gaily.

"Sir," she addressed the king, "I love you more than words can say. I love you more than eyesight, space, and liberty. I love you beyond anything that can be valued, rich or rare. No less than life itself, with grace, health, beauty, and honor. As much as any child or father has loved, so I love thee. A love that takes my breath away and makes me scarcely able to speak. I love you above all things, even pie."

"Oh bollocks!"

Who had said it? I was relatively sure it was not my voice, as it hadn't come from the normal hole in my face, and Jones had been silent as well. Cordelia? I scooted out of Goneril's chair and scampered to the junior princess's side, staying low to avoid attention or flying cutlery.

"Bloody buggering bollocks!" said Cordelia.

Lear, refreshed from his shower of flowered bullshit, said, "What?"

I stood then. "Well, sirrah, lovable as thou art, the lady's profession strains credibility. It's no secret how much the bitch loves pie." I crouched again quickly.

"Silence, fool! Chamberlain, bring me the map."

The distraction had worked, the king's ire had turned from Cordelia to me. She took the opportunity to poke me in the ear-lobe with her fork.

"Ouch!" Whispered, yet emphatic. "Tart."

"Knave."

"Harpy."

"Rodent."

"Whore."

"Whoremonger."

"Do you have to pay to be a whoremonger? Because strictly speaking - "

"Shhh," she said, grinning. She poked me in the ear again, then nodded toward the king, that we should pay attention.

The king pointed to the map with a bejeweled dagger. "All these lands, from here to here, with rich farmlands, bounteous rivers, and deep forests, I do grant to Goneril and her husband, Albany, and to their offspring in perpetuity. Now, we must hear from our second daughter. Dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall. Speak."

Regan made her way to the center floor, looking down at her older sister, Goneril, as she passed, as if to say, "I'll show you."

She raised her arms out to her sides, trailing the long, velvet sleeves down to the floor so she described the shape of a grand and bosomy crucifix. She looked to the ceiling as if drawing inspiration from the heavenly orbs themselves, then pronounced: "What she said."

"Huh?" said the king, and verily "huh" was echoed around the room.

Regan seemed to realize that she should probably go on. "My sister has expressed my thoughts exactly - as if she may have looked at my notes even before we here entered. Except I love thee more. In the list of all senses, all fall short, and I am touched by nothing but your love." She bowed then, looking up a bit to see if anyone was buying it.

"I'm going to be sick," said Cordelia, probably louder than was really necessary, as were the coughing and gagging noises she perpetrated thereafter.

Deflecting, I stood and said, "She's been touched by a bit more than his majesty's love, I