Chapter 91

Meal preparation without Randolph seemed unnaturally quiet. For the next three days, he stayed in his quarters until about a half hour before we were to eat. He didn't trust himself, he'd said, and I think the very idea of poisoning someone with his food, whether he'd consciously done it or not, tore him apart faster than I could try to put him back together. While he found solace in his wine all day, I worried about him, but I kept my word and didn't tell Captain Glenn about him. Mostly because I didn't trust the captain, but also because I feared he would say something to Randolph that would dangle him over the ledge even farther.

I'd grown so used to Randolph's grouchy mutterings and had looked forward to saying something stupid enough to make him throw back his head with a well-endowed belly laugh. To fill the silence, I whistled while I bathed the humo bird's breasts in egg yolks, flour, and crushed tazil nuts.