Rogatis knelt before the throne, bowed his head, and offered up his tray. An attendant carried it to the king, who removed the cloth covering and beheld a wooden locust, ten times life size, with jeweled eyes. As he watched, it came alive, stirring. It rubbed its legs together and sang.
“We are pleased,” said King Hrosantae, “if a bit puzzled. What does this thing signify?”
“It is hard to explain,” said Rogatis, who could not explain it at all, because it was Sekenre’s work he was passing off as his own.
“My Lord,” said Sekenre, interrupting, then continuing before anyone could hush him for speaking out of turn, “there is no explanation to be had, nor any needed. The thing is merely a marvel, and the delight is in its construction. That delight, then, is conveyed to you.”
“You are a bo
