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“This is Vai,” Reivaka says. “She’s having breakfast. Move the butter.”

The fox slides a dish down the table with one foot, hops off the chair, and offers me the seat.

“Ziku. I carry the post.”

“And improve it?”

“Only on request. Some requests are later denied.”

I sit, and Reivaka fills my cup from the pot on the table. The guard remains standing across from me, glaring at the letter.

“Who are you apologizing to?” I ask the guard.

“My sister. I called her stupid in front of her children.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to take them gathering mushrooms by the river. It’s flooded twice this month.”

“Was the path closed?”

“No.” He scratches his jaw. “Reivaka had cleared it that morning.”

Reivaka folds the letter. “His sister knows the river as well as he does.”

“Then say you were worried and ask to go with them,” I suggest. “You can carry the baskets.”

The guard considers that. I reach for the bread, pleased with myself.

“She already invited him,” Reivaka says.

My hand stops.

“Oh.”

“He told her he had better things to do.”

Ziku leans against the table. “I’ve removed that part from the letter twice.”

The guard sits down heavily.

“Then my suggestion was useless,” I say. “You owe her an apology in front of the children.”

“She’ll enjoy that.”

“Probably. You did call her stupid in front of them.”

He rubs both hands over his face.

“Where are they?”

“In the west kitchen,” Reivaka says.

He gets up. Ziku offers him the letter.

The guard leaves it on the table.

“Wise,” I say.