“What you describe,” the Fool begins, quirking a pensive smile, “sounds most foreign to me. What comes after death is, for nearly all of mankind, a mystery where I am from.”

(‘Nearly,’ he says, and with good reason. Besides himself, he knew of only one other in his world who had died, and then come back to life again.)

By now, the sun that had been resting near the horizon when the Fool first stumbled upon Trahearne practicing his magic has sunken out of sight, and the cooling air around them is enough to have the Fool pulling his cloak more securely around himself. “I should consider hailing a coach back home before the weather turns,” he says, looking to the clouds overhead that suggest encroaching rainfall. Then he turns his eyes to Trahearne again and smiles, lifting his chin. “You should visit, when you are able. Are you fond of tea or coffee? I’ve an apartment just above Klaus’s new cafe.”