I went back downstairs, then passed through the library, smelling its musty volumes and incense, spices, herbs, and other interesting matters, on my way to the parlor, whence I stared out the window at the day. Watching, of course. That is my job.
October 2
We took a walk last night, acquiring mandrake root in a field far from here at the place of a killing by somebody else. The master wrapped it in silk and took it to his work space direct. I could hear him engage in good-natured banter with the Thing in the Circle. Jack has a long list of ingredients, and things must be done properly on schedule.
The cat Graymalk came slinking about, pussyfoot, peering in our windows. Ordinarily, I have little against cats. I can take them or leave them, I mean. But Graymalk belongs to Crazy Jill who lives over the hill, in towards town, and Graymalk was spying for her mistress, of course. I growled to let her know she had been spotted.
“About your watching early, faithful Snuff,” she hissed.
“About your spying early,” I responded, “Gray.”
“We have our tasks.”
“We do.”
“And so it has begun.”
“It has.”
“Goes it well?”
“So far. And you?”
“The same. I suppose it is easiest simply to ask this way, for now.”
“. . . But cats are sneaky,” I added.
She tossed her head, raised a paw and studied it.
“There are certain pleasures to be had in lurking.”
“For cats,” I said.
“. . . And certain knowledges gained.”
“Such as . . . ?”
“I am not the first come calling here today. My predecessor left traces. Are you aware of this, faithful watcher?”
“No,” I replied. “Who was it?”
“The owl, Nightwind, consort of Morris and MacCab. I saw him flee at dawn, found a feather out back. The feather is tainted with mummy dust, to do you ill.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
“Perhaps because I am a cat and it amuses me to be arbitrary and do you a good turn. I shall take the feather away with me and leave it at their window, concealed amid shrubs.”
“I prowled last night after my walk,” I said. “I was near your house beyond the hill. I saw Quicklime, the black snake who lives in the belly of the mad monk, Rastov. He rubbed against your doorpost, shedding scales.”
“Ah! And why do you tell me this?”
“I pay my debts.”
“There should not be debts between our folk.”
“This is between us.”
“You are a strange hound, Snuff.”
“You are a strange cat, Graymalk.”
“As it should be, I daresay.”
And she was gone amid shadows. As it should be.
October 3
We walked again last night, and the master was hunting. He had donned his cloak and said to me, “Snuff, fetch!” And from the way he said it, I knew that it was the blade he required. I took it to him and we went out. Our luck was varied. That is, he obtained the ingredients he was after, but only with considerable turmoil and an inordinate passage of time. We were discovered near the end. I gave warning, and we had to flee. It was a long chase, till finally I hung back and nipped the other on the leg. We made good our escape, with the ingredients. As he was washing up later, Jack told me I was an excellent watchdog. I was very proud.
Later, he let me out to prowl. I checked Rastov’s place, which was dark. Out and about business, I supposed. Lying behind a bush near Crazy Jill’s, I could hear her chuckling within and talking to Graymalk.
They had already been out. The broom beside the rear entrance was still warm.
I was especially careful at Morris and MacCab’s. Nightwind can be very potent after dark and could be anywhere.
I heard a small tittering from the nearly bare branches of a cherry tree. I sniffed the air, but Nightwind’s gritty signature was not on it. There was something else, though.
The small laughter, so high-pitched a human might not hear it, came again.
“Who’s there?” I asked.