“Another lost one,” I said. “Yes, sad.”
We walked again in silence, then, “I want to stand near you in the arc,” she said. “I believe the vicar will be at the left end, with Morris and MacCab next to him, Tekela and Nightwind with them, then Jill. I will stand to her right. I will assume a position three paces forward. That would put you and Jack beside us.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I’ve been working for this arrangement. You must be to my right and slightly back, that is, to Jack’s left.”
“Why?”
“Because something bad may happen if you stand to his right.”
“How do you know this?”
“My small wisdom.”
I thought about it. The old cat in the Dreamworld was obviously on her side, and she was an opener. Therefore, he could be setting me up for something. However, his remarks concerning the Elders had almost seemed disparaging, and he had seemed kindly disposed toward me. Reason stopped here. I knew that I had to trust my feelings.
“I’ll do it.”
When we neared our area, I said, “I’m going to walk over again to see whether Larry’s back. Want to come with?”
“No. That meeting. . . .”
“All right. Well, It’s, been good.”
“Yes. I never knew a dog this well before.”
“Same with cats and me. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Yes.”
She headed home.
I searched all around Larry’s place again, but there was no sign of his return.
On my way home, I heard my name hissed from a clump of weeds.
“Snuff, old boy. Good to see you. I was on my way over. Saved me a trip. . . .”
“Quicklime! What have you been up to?”
“Hanging out in that orchard, eating the hard stuff,” he said. “Just stopped by for a quick one, on the way over.”
“Why were you coming to see me?”
“Learned something. Wanted you to know.”
“What?” I asked.
“I picked up a bad habit from Rastov, I guess. Look at me. I feel like I’m shedding my skin.”
“You’re not.”
“I know. But I really liked him. When I left you, I headed for the orchard and just started eating the old, fermented ones. It was, snug, with him. I felt like somebody needed me. The fruit’s almost gone now. I’ll come around. I’ll be all right. But I’ll miss him. He was a good man. The vicar got him, that’s what Nightwind told me. Wanted to narrow the field. That’s why the Count disposed of Owen, to send the vicar a message. You’ll get the vicar, won’t you?”
“Quick, I think you’ve had too much. Owen was killed after the Count was staked.”
“Clever, isn’t he? That’s what I was coming to tell you about. He fooled us. He’s still around.”
“What? How?”
“When I reached the peak of my indulgence the other night,” he replied, “I suddenly felt terribly lonely. I didn’t want to be alone, so I went looking for someone, something, lights, movement, sounds. I went over to the Gipsy camp, which was perfect. I curled up beneath a wagon, planning to spend the night there and sleep it off. But I overheard parts of a conversation from the wagon which led me to make my way up between its floorboards. I had chosen _the_ wagon, and a pair of guards were in it. Sometimes they’d speak in their own tongue, sometimes in English, the younger one wanted the practice. I spent the night in there instead of below. But I learned the story. I even found an opening that gave me a view of the casket.
“He’s with the Gipsies?”
“Yes. They guard him by day as he sleeps, guard the casket at night when he’s away.”
“So he’d faked it,” I said. “Dressed the skeleton we’d found in his garments, put the stake into it himself.”
“Yes, the crumbly skeleton that was already there.”
“. . . And that’s why the ring wasn’t on it.”
“Yes, and he was safe in that, too. Anybody finding the remains would assume that the staker had taken it.”
I felt a chill.
“Quick, he did make this arrangement after the death of the moon, didn’t he?”