Rook

came of the endeavor was professional embarrassment. Oh, and I got to keep the rabbit.
    This ridiculous exercise in futility was one of the things I inherited upon becoming Rook, and I would gladly have dropped it, but it is one of Wattleman’s pet obsessions, and so I was obliged to keep it up.
    But this morning it was confirmed. The team had finally acquired the animal, and exhaustive tests by our top scientists had been conducted. And so I found myself laboriously penning formal invitations to the members of the Court to come dine at the Rookery tonight before observing the unbelievably magical amazingness of the United Kingdom’s only oracular duck.
    Of course, I couched it all in slightly more impressive terms.
    I sent the invitations out via the Rook’s Messenger and tried to get on with my work. Generally, it consumes all my time, but today I couldn’t focus. Hours passed with me staring blankly at my computer, unable to concentrate. Eventually, I realized that I was having doubts about the duck.
    If you think about it, quite aside from the unlikelihood of a duck being able to tell the future, the odds that our motley crew had finally found the one and only psychic animal in the kingdom were not good. And frankly, I did not relish the prospect of whipping off the cover and presenting the Court with a non-oracular duck. After so many awkward mistakes, the search team had assured us that this time they’d definitely found the right animal, but it didn’t do much to settle my nerves. So there was really nothing for it; I was going to have to go down there and check out the duck for myself.
    I wanted to see the duck so I could test not only whether it could communicate its predictions clearly, but also whether it could predict accurately. A duck intelligent enough to communicate with people might (I thought) be intelligent enough to lie about telling the future. But I was in a unique position to test its skills because I already knew what my future held. So, down I traipsed to the labs, walking through the corridors, keeping my eyes firmly onthe ground. As always, I tried not to make eye contact with the staff. I’m always so embarrassed by those little bows and curtsies I get, and besides, who knows what they’re thinking? Everyone here knows who I am, and I realize they hold no great respect for me.
    Still, they do respect my position, and so when I asked for some time alone with the subject, it was hurriedly arranged. The staff paused in their tests and their grooming of the feathered fortune-teller and ushered me into a soundproof white room, where I sat with a duck and a laptop computer. Well, the duck had the computer, with an oversize keyboard that the boffins had rigged up for it (apparently, there had been problems with beak-to-key-size ratio). Dr. Crisp had just explained the details of how the duck worked.
    “We’re talking old-school fairy tales, Rook Thomas,” he had said genially. “Only three questions per person. Ever. And it has to be done in one sitting. Yes or no answers.”
    It’s actually kind of alarming to see a duck in person. They’re taller than you would think, and more… immediate. We stared at each other, the duck and I, and I hate to admit it, but I blinked first.
    “Yes, well. I am Rook Thomas,” I said to the duck. “But perhaps you already knew that?” The duck gave no response other than nuzzling at its feathers with its beak.
    “So, do you have a name?” I asked, trying to strike up some sort of rapport. The duck looked over at me and promptly shat on the table. Clearly, this was not going to be a conversational meeting. I turned my attention away from small talk and got down to asking about the future.
    “Duck, will I be attacked by operatives of the Checquy?” I asked. Its neck straightened abruptly, and it pecked the Y button on the keyboard. Its answer displayed on the monitor.
    Since my fate had already been predicted by, among others, a schoolboy, a homeless man, and a thirty-seven-hundred-year-old oracle, this wasn’t the greatest revelation in the world, but I was impressed with the duck’s rapid response. I tried to decide what to ask next. It was a unique opportunity to gain an advantage.
    “Duck, um, will I be attacked in my house?”
    N.
    I heaved a great sigh of relief. I’d been imagining that I would be jerkedout of my sleep or have to watch as my rabbit was killed in front of me, and I could dismiss those fears now. But I could still ask