“Oh,” Nightwind said, rotating his head ninety degrees to stare at the manse. “That spoils one of Morris’s new theories. You’re a calculator, aren’t you?”
“My, Quicklime was chatty.”
“It just came out in passing,” he said. “If Talbot were indeed a player, and with the vicar now in the Game . . . well, things would be moved around interestingly, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“So we’re both checking the place out.”
“True,” I said. “I don’t _know_ that Talbot’s not a player. But if he is, Lucky’s not his companion.”
“Interesting. Have you, or Lucky, seen any other candidates about his place?”
“No. He seems to prefer plants to animals.”
“Can a plant be a companion?”
“I don’t know. They’re alive, but kind of limited in what they can do. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, this will all shake down in a few days, I’m sure. In ample time for the work to be done and the world…Should I say ‘redeemed’ or ‘preserved’?”
“Let us say ‘messed with,’ either way.”
He closed his left eye and opened it again.
“And the Good Doctor?” I prompted.
“Ah, yes,” he replied. “He was the other one Tekela knew about. But I was intrigued when she insisted that there are three people living out there, not two.”
“Oh?”
“So I flew out to investigate, during another of those nasty storms that always seem in progress in the area. And she was right. There was a big fellow lurching about the place, drunk perhaps. Biggest man I’ve ever seen. He was only about for a little while, during the height of the storm. Then he lay down on that fancy bed in the basement, and the Good Doctor covered him up, entirely, with a sheet. He didn’t stir again.”
“Strange. Bubo have anything to say about this?”
“Bah! You ought to send Graymalk after him, if I don’t get him first. Rats aren’t as salty as bats. Tougher, though. . . . He’s worthless for information. Won’t trade for anything. Either he’s stupid, ignorant, or just closemouthed.”
“I don’t think he’s stupid.”
“Then I’m not sure he knows where his best interests lie. Either way, he’s not much use to the rest of us.”
“I’ll have to corner him sometime.”
“Don’t eat the tail. They’re no good.” He chuckled again. “If you find out more about Talbot or this place, let’s talk again. Plants . . . hm?”
He spread his wings and swooped away to the south. I watched him vanish into the night. Formidable.
I circled the manse again, checking at a few windows. Then I heard the back door open. I was near the front at the time, and I rushed around, concealing myself behind a tree.
“Good kitty,” said the Great Detective, in a well-controlled falsetto, “come visit us again sometime.”
Graymalk was deposited on the back steps and the door was closed. I cleared my throat, but she sat there for a time grooming herself before wandering off in the other direction. Suddenly, she was beside me.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s walk.”
I headed southward.
“She has a good memory, that old lady,” Gray finally said.
“In what respect?”
“Her servant spotted me, on a sudden return to the kitchen, and she heard me call out. She came back and called me by name. She was very nice. Even gave me a saucer of milk, which I felt obliged to drink. Who’d’ve thought anyone would look at a cat well enough to recognize her later, not to mention remembering her name?”
“Maybe she likes cats. Must have, if she wanted to feed you.”
“In that case, you’d think she’d have one of her own. But she doesn’t. There were no signs.”
“Just has a good eye and a good memory then, I guess.”
We crossed the road, kept going.
“I guess so,” she said. “So, I got to look around pretty well before they found me.”
“And . . .?”
“There’s a windowless room with a wide door and a niche in its far wall, which is of stone, by the way. That old place has been through a lot of changes. Anyway, the niche seemed about right to have held an altar at one time. There were even a few small crosses chiseled into the stone, and a bit of Latin, I think it was.”