«That is true,» he answered, sipping his own. «But it is often that way with us. Every day, in fact. Still… .»
«I refer to your house as well as your person. I heard a small sound earlier, as of the tinkling of a crystal bell, from this direction. When I looked this way I saw nothing but a well of impenetrable darkness.»
«Ah, the old crystal bell effect,» he mused. «Haven't seen that one since Alexandria. So you didn't hear any thunder, see any lightning?»
«Not at all.»
«Not badly done then, though I hate to admit it,» he said, taking another sip.
«Was it the vicar?»
«I'd guess. Most likely still irritated with Snuff here.»
«Perhaps you should have a few words with him.»
«I don't believe in giving warnings. But I give anybody two attempts on us, to discover their folly. If they do not, and they try a third time, I kill them. That's all.»
«He sent those creatures after you?» She gestured toward the hall.
«No,» he replied. «They were my own. They got loose during the attack. It must have involved a general manumission spell. Pity. I had better use for the fellows than this.»
She set down her glass, rose, visited the hall, and inspected them. She returned a little later.
«Impressive,» she said. «What they are, and what got done to them.» She seated herself again. «What I'm wondering most, though, is what you're going to do with them now.»
«Hm,» he said, toying with his glass. «It's rather far to the river.»
I nodded vigorously.
«I suppose I could just stow them in the basement, throw a piece of canvas over them, or something like that.»
«They might start to smell pretty bad.»
«They already smell pretty bad.»
«True. But it would be awkward if they were discovered on the premises, and when they start to decompose it might lead someone official this way.»
«Conceded. I suppose I could just dig a big hole somewhere and bury them.»
«You wouldn't want to do it around here, and they look too husky to lug far.»
«You've a point there. Have you any ideas?»
«No,» she said, sipping her sherry.
I barked once and they looked at me. I glanced at the clock. It was approaching midnight.
«I think Snuff has a suggestion,» she said.
I nodded.
«He'll have to wait a few minutes.»
«I can't,» Graymalk said to me suddenly.
«Cats are that way,» I replied.
«What do you want to do with them?»
«I say we take them over to Owen's place and stuff them into some of his wicker baskets. Then we haul them up into the big oak tree, set fire to them, and run like hell.»
«Snuff, that's grotesque.»
«Glad you like it, too,» I said. «And it makes for a great Halloween gag, even if it is a little early.»
The clock struck twelve.
The humans bought my idea; and we went out to do it. And ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, they gave a lovely light.
Hickory-dickory-dock.
October 25
Jill came back to our place afterwards, last night, and helped to straighten things. Graymalk and I slipped out while they were drinking another sherry and hit it over to the vicarage. The study was illuminated and Tekela was perched on the roof beside the chimney, head beneath her wing.
«Snuff, I'm going after that damned bird,» Graymalk said.
«I don't know that it's good form, Gray, doing something like that right now.»
«I don't care,» she said, and she disappeared.
I waited and watched, for a long while. Suddenly, there was a flurry on the roof. There came a rattle of claws, a burst of feathers, and Tekela took off across the night, cawing obscenities.
Graymalk descended at the corner and returned.
«Nice try,» I said.
«No, it wasn't. I was clumsy. She was fast. Damn.»
We headed back.
«Maybe you'll give her a few nightmares, anyway.»
«That'd be nice,» she said.
Growing moon. Angry cat. Feather on the wind. Autumn comes. The grass dies.
The morning dealt us a hand in which last night's small irony was seen and raised. Graymalk came scratching on the door and when I went out she said, «Better come with me.»
So I did.
«What's it about?» I asked.
«The constable and his assistants are at Owen's place, investigating last night's burnings.»
«Thanks for getting me,» I said. «Let's go and watch. It should be fun.»
«Maybe,» she said.
When we got there I understood the intimation in her word. The constable and his men paced and measured and poked. The remains of the baskets and the remains which had been in the baskets were now on the ground. There were, however, the remains of four baskets and their contents rather than the three I remembered so well.
«Oh-oh,» I said.
«Indeed,» she replied.
I considered the inhuman remains of the three and the very human remains of the fourth.
«Who?» I asked.
«Owen himself. Someone stuffed him into one of his baskets and torched it.»
«A brilliant idea,» I said, «even if it was plagiarized.»
«Go ahead and mock,» said a voice from overhead. «He wasn't your master.»
«Sorry, Cheeter,» I said. «But I can't come up with a lot of sympathy for a man who tried to poison me.»
«He had his crochets,» the squirrel admitted, «but he also had the best oak tree in town. An enormous number of acorns were ruined last night.»
«Did you see who got him?»
«No. I was across town, visiting Nightwind.»
«What will you do now?»
«Bury more nuts. It's going to be a long winter, and an outdoor one.»
«You could join MacCab and Morris,» Graymalk observed.
«No. I think I'll follow Quicklime's example and call it quits. The Game is getting very dangerous.»
«Do you know whether whoever did it took Owen's golden sickle?» I asked.
«It's not around out here,» he said. «It could still be inside, though.»
«You have a way in and out, don't you?»
«Yes.»
«Had he a special place he kept it?»
«Yes.»
«Would you go inside and check and tell us whether it's still there?»
«Why should I?»
«There might be something you'd like from us one day, a few scraps, the chasing away of a predator… .»
«I'd rather have something right now,» he said.
«What's that?» I asked.
He leaped, but instead of falling he seemed to drift down to land beside us.
«I didn't know you were a flying squirrel,» Graymalk said.
«I'm not,» he replied. «That's a part of it, though.»
«I don't understand,» she told him.
«I was a pretty dumb nut-chaser until Owen found me,» he said. «Most squirrels are. We know what we have to do to stay in business, but that's about it. Not like you guys. He made me smarter. He gave me special things I can do, too, like that glide. But I lost something for it. I want to trade all this in and go back to being what I was, a happy nut-chaser who doesn't care about opening and closing.»
«What all's involved?» I asked.
«I gave up something for all this, and I want it back.»
«What?»
«Look down at the ground around me. What do you see?»
«Nothing special,» Graymalk said.
«My shadow's gone. He took it. And he can't give it back now, because he's dead.»
«It's a pretty cloudy day,» Graymalk said. «It's hard to tell… .»
«Believe me. I ought to know.»
«I do,» I said. «It'd be a silly thing to go on about this way, otherwise. But what's so important about a shadow? Who cares? What good is it to you up there, anyway, jumping around in trees where you can't even see it most of the time?»
«There's more to it than that,» he explained. «It's attached to other things that go away with it. I can't feel things the way that I used to. I used to just know things, where the best nuts were, what the weather was going to be like, where the ladies were when the time came, how the seasons were changing. Now I think about it, and I can figure all these things out and can make plans to take advantage of them, something I could never have done before. But I've lost all those little feelings that came with the kind of knowing that comes without thinking. And I've thought about it a lot. I miss them. I'd rather go back to them than think and soar the way I do. You understand about magic. Not too many people do. I'll check on the sickle if you'll break Owen's shadow-spell for me.»