“I’d come to that conclusion myself, but I didn’t know about the metaphysics. All right, we’re still even.”
“Talk to you again soon.”
“Yes, soon.”
I took a walk, to my favorite thinking place, a little hill to the northeast, whence I could see the entire area for a great distance. I called it Dog’s Nest. I mounted the height of one of the big blocks of stone that lay there and was afforded a view of the township.
Identities. . . .
If neither Talbot nor the vicar were technically involved, I’d a good candidate for the center. And if only Larry were involved, it still held. Though I was leery of the Count, it would have to be checked out. But the vicar was also a wild card. If he were to be counted, but not Larry, an equally good candidate for center came into existence, one I had even visited recently. If he _and_ Larry were both to be counted as players, though, a third possible site of manifestation was created, to the southeast, I hadn’t quite figured where yet. I moved in a big circle about the hilltop, pissing on stone after stone as I calculated, partly to keep track of the lines, partly in frustration.
Then I had it, and I marked it in my mind. If they _both_ played, then a big old manse about which I knew nothing was the third candidate for the locale. Excitement leaped in my breast like a puppy, enthusiastic and more than a little naive. A bit of consecration was all that was necessary to strengthen the probability of its choice. I’d have to check this out.
I realized then that I needed the help of a cat.
I went looking for Graymalk again but she was nowhere about. Cats are never around when you really need one. There was still time, though.