“Why didn’t you trade directly with Nightwind?”
“I’ve never met Nightwind. Owls scare me. Besides, I heard he’s pretty closebeaked. Keeps everything close to his feathers, and keeps his pinions to himself.”
He chuckled at that. I did not.
“If you just wanted to talk, why were you snooping around?” I asked.
“I couldn’t help being curious when I saw the things in the mirror.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been by?”
“Yes!”
“Who’re you with?”
“The Good Doctor.”
“I’ve a friend named Graymalk who happens to be a cat. She comes around here a lot. If I think you’re planning to make mischief I’m going to let her start coming in regularly.”
“I’m not looking for trouble, damn it! Let’s keep the cat out of this!”
“Okay. What are you trading and what do you want?”
“I want you to tell me everybody you know who’s in the Game, and where they live.”
“What do I get?”
“I know where the Count takes his rest.”
“Nightwind was going to seek that information.”
“He’s not good enough to follow Needle through the woods. Owls can’t zigzag the way bats can.”
“You may be right. You will take me to the place?”
“Yes. For a list of the others.”
“All right,” I said. “But you came to me. I get to make the terms. Show me the place first. Then I’ll tell you who else is playing.”
“I agree.”
“And what may I call you?”
“Bubo,” he replied.
I backed away.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Outside, it was chill, windy, and damp. A few clouds hung low in the west. The stars seemed very near.
“Which way?” I asked.
He indicated the southeast and headed in that direction. I followed.
He crossed several fields, coming at length to a stand of trees. He entered there.
“These are the woods where Needle might lose Nightwind?” I said.
“Yes.”
He led me among trees. Finally, we came to a very rocky clearing, and he halted.
“Yes?” I said.
“This is the place.”
“What is it?”
“The remains of an old church.”
I walked forward, sniffing. Nothing untoward. . . .
I climbed the low hill on which the ruins stood. Among the blocks of stone I saw an opening. When I peered within I saw that it continued downward.
“. . . Goes back,” I said, “as if this wasn’t always ground level. As if much of it were covered up, overgrown. . . . We’re actually standing above the ruin, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been down in it,” he replied. “That isn’t the spot. The cemetery’s down the hill, over that way.”
He headed in the direction he’d indicated, and I followed. There were a few fallen, half-buried markers about. Then there was a bigger place, I realized, when I saw that lines of stone in the ground were what had been the tops of walls of a crypt. Weeds grew amid them. Bubo rushed forward, stood in their midst.
“See, there’s a hole here,” he told me. “His stuff’s down there.”
I moved toward it, looked inside. It was too dark for me to distinguish anything. I wished Nightwind or Graymalk had been along.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said, “for now.”
“Then tell me the names and places you’d promised.”
“I’ll tell you as we walk along, away from here.”
“Does this place make you nervous?”
“It’s not a month for taking chances,” I said.
He laughed.
“That’s very funny,” he said.
“It is, isn’t it?” I replied.
The dying moon came up above the trees, lighting our way.
With midnight’s chimes speech comes to me. I rose and stretched, waiting for them to cease. Jack, having roused himself especially for the occasion, watched me with a mixture of amusement and interest.
“Busy day, Snuff?” he asked.
“We’d a visitor while you napped. The rat Bubo,” I said, “companion of the Good Doctor.”
“And?”
“We traded. A list of the players for the location of the Count’s grave. He said it was in the cemetery to a ruined church to the southeast. Showed me the place.”
“Good work,” Jack replied. “How does this affect your calculations?”