Really august company, you understand. Kings and nobles and bishops be damned, Greyboar and I sneered at ’em once we took their money. These were composers! Really pretty much like average blokes, once you got to know them. Especially Gramps. He was like everybody’s favorite great-uncle that they wished they had but didn’t.
* * *
The next morning we had a wonderful breakfast. The food was great, but what was even better was that we were serenaded by a small ensemble playing one of the Deadbeat’s divertimenti. With the Deadbeat himself conducting! He seemed much the more pleasant individual in the morning. I decided to write off his gaucheries the night before to too much drink. A terrible thing, too much drink. I know whereof I speak.
A leisurely pace, they had at the Abbey. It wasn’t until midafternoon that Greyboar and I were summoned to Hildegard’s study by one of the Sisters. The invitation didn’t actually include Jenny and Angela, but they came along anyway and the Sister didn’t make any objection.
The Sister led the way, in and around and back and forth and up this flight of stairs and down that one and back around and back up another flight of stairs—etc., etc. I was totally lost after three minutes. It really was a huge place, the Abbey. Much bigger than it had looked the night before in the dark.
But finally we were ushered into Hildegard’s study. It was quite a room, that study. Enormous, it was, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases covering two of the walls. A great bay window on a third wall opened onto the Woods beyond. The last wall was only half a wall, because there was a huge alcove leading off, filled with what looked at first glance like tombstones, oddly enough. Then I saw small flames flickering amid the stones, and decided it must be some kind of peculiar fireplace.
In the center of the room, just slightly off toward the window, was the Abbess’ desk. Like everything else in the room, the desk was built to large scale. Beautiful desk, made of maple or cherry or some kind of fancy wood. Covered with papers.
All this, however, I noticed later. Upon first entering the room, my attention was immediately drawn to the floor, which was completely covered by a thick rug.
Most of which rug was not actually visible, because it was covered in turn with a gigantic snarl.
Our eyes, you can well imagine, were focused entirely on the snarl. Well, my eyes and Greyboar’s. Angela and Jenny were huddled behind us, pressed close. Although I’m sure they were peeking within seconds. Curiosity always overrode everything else with those two, even outright terror.
The first time I’d ever seen a snarl close up it was lunging at me with its great maw agape, roaring and bellowing with rage. Bit sticky that would have been, even with Greyboar on the scene, if it hadn’t turned out that the wizard Zulkeh’s apprentice—a dwarf kid named Shelyid, I believe I’ve mentioned him before—was a snarl-friend. If you’re wondering what a snarl-friend is, just stick around. You’ll find out soon.
This snarl presented quite a different image. It was lying there—she, to be precise, and it pays to be precise when it comes to snarls—for all the world like a tabby cat. Lying on her side, stretched out, dozing. When we came in, the monster awoke from her snooze, raised her head, eyed us once, yawned (horrible sight, that, really is), and went back to sleep.
“Do come in!” exclaimed Hildegard, looking up from her desk. She was apparently in the middle of writing a letter.
Greyboar coughed. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the snarl, we wouldn’t.”
“What?” asked Hildegard. She looked down at the monster. “Oh, nonsense, you won’t disturb her. Quite difficult to disturb a snarl, actually. Especially Rose, she’s really the most even-tempered snarl I know.”
“I didn’t think they could be tamed,” I mumbled.
The Abbess frowned. “Oh, dear. Gwendolyn told me you were a wicked little man, but I actually got the impression that you were quite bright. I must have misunderstood her.”
She pursed her lips, thinking, then continued: