On this trip to the Pick residence, Koen brought his own food. Much more food, in fact, than Mr. Grumbles could possibly eat.

There was no reason for Koen to have brought the xiàn bǐng, white cut chicken, ful medames, and brigadeiros for dessert. Just this mix of nuts and cheese would have been enough to lure Mr. Grumbles out of the Pick residence.

But Koen had blown his grocery allotment for the week and stayed up all night cooking, anyway. He'd stowed everything neatly into the very heavy backpack he now would not take off. Not here. Mr. Grumbles would get all he wanted when they were safely back home.

"I am happy! He's eating well," said Secretary. He hopped along his perch and stretched his neck down, peering. "Those things are protein, right?"

Koen had cut some red Leicester into squares and mixed them in with nuts in a ziplock bag. Mr. Grumbles stirred these around in his search for the cheese.1 He pinched a cube between thumb and forefinger before popping it into his mouth.

"Yes," said Koen.

Graa was at the team building, no doubt reveling in his free ticket. But of course there were other Pick in his residence. Koen couldn't just grab Mr. Grumbles and run.

"It is important that he not eat carbs because of the Convention summit next week," fretted Secretary. "We staff will judge General Graa negatively if he appears in public astride a fat steed." He cocked an eye at the ceiling and hiccuped. "I am bored. I was ordered to read a study about yogurt. And another about gluten. Summon me: which is good and which bad?"

Koen wondered if the bird was probing his professional credentials. Or catch him in a lie.

"I wouldn't worry about either," he said.

"What's that white stuff? Is it glutenous?"

"It's cheese."

"Clarify?"

Koen mentally flipped through descriptions. Would the Pick understand words like "curdled," or for that matter "cow"?

"It is the enzymatically coagulated milk of a large bovid," Koen said slowly. "Does your earth have—yah!"

He flung up his left arm to shield his face from the wings of the descending Secretary. His right arm, meanwhile, sank under the enormous bird's weight.

Claws gripped. "Hold still!"

Secretary edged down Koen's arm toward the bag of nuts and cheese and Mr. Grumbles backed away from Secretary's darting head.

"Solid milk?" Secretary pincered a cube of cheese and flung back his head to swallow it. "That is louche." His throat bulged and his eyes closed. "Grm-mum. I am contented. Next time, cut it into smaller pieces."

Koen needed to get out of here. He hadn't slept last night and the smell of hot metal and ammonia was overpowering. Even Mr. Grumbles's eyes watered as he ate his cheese.

I have to just get him out of here. Koen had said as much at the first Human Club meeting. Mr. Grumbles will go with me. He trusts me.

Laura had thought that was a terrible plan. His arm was beginning to ache. The backpack was really heavy.

Koen cleared his throat. Secretary didn't appear to notice.

Koen cleared his throat again, and when that didn't work, he just gave up and said, "After lunch, I was thinking I would take your pet for a walk."

Secretary's head darted around. Koen met his gaze while Laura's voice played in his memory, And then when he goes missing? Who is the first person Graa will suspect?

"Clarify?" said Secretary. "You will exercise Mr. Grumbles?"

"Yes. Get out." Koen coughed. "In the fresh air."

"That's stupid. You can't fly."

"Uh, possible translation error. I mean that I want to take him for a walk."

Koen's original plan had been to just take Mr. Grumbles out into the neighborhood and meet up with Mark. Mark could beat him up a little. Koen would say he'd been mugged.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

But that was overthinking. This wasn't a heist to steal a diamond. This was a missing pet. Would be.

"Enumerate your qualifications for this role." Secretary raised his wings further. "He is stronger than you. I am proud and worried. He will run away."

Mr. Grumbles is stronger than me, Koen had suggested. He pulls the leash out my hand and runs away. He's gone. So sorry.

Koen puffed out his chest and said, "I'm strong too. Stronger than you, Pick Secretary."

Secretary flattened his feathers and crouched on Koen's arm. "I am startled. You act pridefully."

Koen wanted to lean against something and take the weight off his arm and back, but he couldn't. He remembered Severo tapping her teeth with a long nail. It will look good to lose the dog as well. For real.

Koen looked over at Baroness Smoke Detector, who was enjoying a bite of white cut chicken. He swallowed.

"You are making many regurgitation sounds," said Secretary. "Are you overcome with paternal affection?"

That was too close to the truth.

"I can take the dog out, too."

Release the dog into the city, they'd planned.

No. Somewhere where there aren't any cameras.

I've thought about that. We can do it in the woods.

Like a bear?

I get it. It's funny.

"I will be more prideful than you," Secretary decided. "I will tell you to go."

Koen resisted the urge of clear his throat again. "I was thinking we'd go to the woods," he gargled. "The nature reserve, I mean. Outside the city."

Secretary shrugged. "I am dominant and proud. Usually I only have time to take them to the dog park." He pointed upward with his beak. "But you are my minion! You will take them farther!"

Dog park? thought Koen.

Secretary spread his wings and jabbed the air with his beak. "Go, then!" he cried. "And watch Mr. Grumbles for any signs of gluten sensitivity, whatever that is."

***

The Pick had never invented the leash, it seemed. When Koen asked for a couple, the request only started a long, confusing, and disturbing digression about whips. When he finally made clear that he wanted to keep Mr. Grumbles and Baroness Smoke Detector from running off, Secretary gave him a pair of "hobbles," which looked like long hand-cuffs for the feet. To control his pets, Koen was supposed to "jab them."

Koen had promised that if he had any trouble, he'd turn around and come back. Then, inspired by the question how would Mark handle this, he'd said, "I'm sure they won't be any trouble. You've trained them very well." Secretary had preened.2

On the street, Koen found that his flattery had been accurate. Grumbles and Smoke Detector were easy to lead. They walked slowly, not testing the hobbles, and all Koen had to do was steer Mr. Grumbles with a hand on his shoulder. The steed put his hand on the dog's neck, and guided her.

The air was warm and breezy, and between the overarching buildings, the scraps of sky were blue.

I'm doing this, Koen told himself. I'm taking this huge incomprehensible tangled mess of a city with both fists and I'm ripping!

Koen felt his shoulders sway as he walked. His arms swung, fingers loosely curled. Blood rushed hot behind his eyes. Air chilled his teeth.

He felt strong, like a predator. He grinned, and a passing Quotidian shied away. "Control your snarling animal!" she told Mr. Grumbles.

***

Even the ride to the forest was easy. Koen had figured out the bus routes ahead of time, and none of the other passengers hassled him (aside from a few polite inquiries as to which of the three of them was sapient). The only problem was the hygienic mucus that got all over Smoke Detector and Grumbles. Grumbles licked his, and it cured an incipient cold sore in his mouth.

The Human Club had discussed the question of tracking and surveillance. What if the omnibus kept records of its passengers? What if there were cameras on the street?

These were questions that Severo could answer. In a human city, she'd said, you had a single municipal government that tracked the comings and goings of its citizens. Hello, Laura. Hello, Mark. I see you.

A Quotidian city, though, is a collection of hives. Each one is sovereign and paranoid. A bewildering web of surveillance and counter-surveillance radiated from every hive toward every other. As with the internal security of the United Nations embassy, lack of trust has opened holes, through which one could drive a main battle tank. Isn't it a shame? Do you have any hot sauce, Koen? The stew lacks bite.

This calmed her baby ducks. She did not mention the money trail the translator bugs would leave, nor the very real possibility that General Graa had implanted tracking devices in his pets. And what about the super-technology that no human even had the background to imagine?

Privately, Severo agreed with Koen more than he knew. This scheme wasn't a heist; it was a farce. Mark playing the clown again. But Severo liked clowns.

Chaos was good. It loosened up possibilities, like shaking a fruit tree. Who knew? Maybe they really would kidnap Mr. Grumbles. Nobody expected a pipsqueak species to steal a wealthy general's dog. Maybe there were no security measures in place. Certainly, something interesting would happen.

Severo was correct. There was a sophisticated pheromone-based tracking system installed in every public conveyance in the Zogreion. Since it hadn't been calibrated for mammals, however, it made no distinction between Koen, Mr. Grumbles, or the dog. They were not stopped on their way to the woods.

1 Naturally lactose-free

2 Not, in fact, due to Koen's flattery. Secretary's mind had begun to wander and he'd remembered a misaligned contour feather between his shoulders.