Two minutes later, Polar Star returns, muzzle again dripping green slime. He sighs, and hands me a second scroll.
I open it. It reads simply:
P.S.: Is Fireball okay?
I look up in growing horror. "Polar Star?"
He stands a bit straighter. "Yes, mistress?"
"I did instruct thee to return to the cart after dropping me off at the library," I say slowly, "yes?"
He stares at me blankly.
I repeat the colorful epithet I learned from Fireball.