Drake nodded. 'That is what I thought. Well, God gave us brains for a reason – not to use those brains would be a sin.' He got up and carried his plate to the kitchen, then went to a small desk of many drawers in the parlor and broke out all of the gear needed to write on paper with a quill. 'Haven't much coin just now,' he mumbled, moving the quill about in a sequence of furious scribbles separated by long flowing swoops, like a sword-duel. 'There you are.'