I talked to the knife dealer today. He hates me. I can tell by the way he watches me pass by. He evades my questions even though he knows he must answer. Everyone must answer–I’m searching for the truth.
I asked him if any knives had gone missing. When he couldn’t tell me I asked what kind of dealer he was not to know such a fact as that. Every knife from one end of the forrest to the other has to be accounted for. It’s the law. I don’t make the law.
The knife dealer said he didn’t speak to the prince the day he died. But I knew that already.
I know who the prince spoke to that day. I’ll go talk to her next. Maybe then I’ll be ready for the wolves.