TABBY remained on Oscar’s balcony until dawn arrived at the horizon as a faint glow. She’s hoped he’d return after calming down. He didn’t, however, and the longer she waited, the more her concerns grew: if he wasn’t willing to be a part of the battle for this world, she wasn’t convinced there could be one.

She pulled a blanket tighter and watched as hint of new day became pink.

The view was beautiful, and it was irreconcilable that such tranquillity would be decimated with fire and savagery.

As light arrived, a haze became apparent from fires that had been allowed to continue burning, and she was overwhelmed by the monumental shift in thinking that this world required if its inhabitants were to survive.

Let alone the effort required to teach them.

She rose from the chair she’s curled up in and pulled the blanket tighter still.

If this world stood any chance, it needed Oscar, and is she wasn’t capable of persuading him alone, then she’d implore again those who might.

She left the balcony and went inside, wondering whether he’d already returned but ignored her. He had not, however, and the bed remained unused.

Certainly he was making a point.

After folding the blanket neatly, she left the apartment and hurried along the corridor until reaching another door. She knocked several times before it was opened.

Jeffemeries tried peering through eyes heavy with sleep, which he rubbed until realising it was her.

“Miss Tabby?” he said. “What’s wrong?” he glanced at his window to be certain how little light arose from it. “It’s very early. Breakfast is not for some hours, surely?”

She pushed past him and sat on a chair as though it was hot and pointy.“I’m concerned,” she said, matter-of-factly. “About everything. I don’t think this is going to work. Our plans, I mean. Not without Oscar. I really don’t think he can be persuaded to help. I’ve been waiting for him all night. He left in a huff and hasn’t been back since.”

“A huff?”

“We had a row.”

Eyes were rubbed again and a dressing gown cord was pulled. “He’s not in his room?”

“No. He hasn’t been back since last night.”

Jeffemeries peered at a window again, unconvinced the past tense was necessary. “Mironaelk said we need to give him time.”

“Yes, but we don’t have any,” she said. “That’s the problem. We need to get things moving now.”

“Things are moving—”

“They won’t move fast enough without Oscar. He knows more about what’s happening here better than any of us yet he’s still refusing involvement. The longer we wait the more he’ll become distracted by his fluffing poetry recital until he refuses to have anything to do with us at all.”

“Mironaelk doesn’t seem concerned.”

“Mironaelk is definitely concerned. She’s just good at ensuring others aren’t.” The thought of enduring what lay ahead without him was not only unbearable, but impossible. She couldn’t do it without him—they couldn’t do it without him.

Without him this world was lost and theirs would follow.

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“I’m sure he’ll come round, Miss Tabby,” said Jeffemeries. “He’s a remarkable animal. All three of us have been through a lot together already. He won’t forsake us. He won’t forsake any of us.”

“I think he’s in denial,” she said, her concerns unabated. “It’s as though he refuses to imagine how bad all this will become. I tried reasoning with him, but it made no difference. He just got upset.”

“That doesn’t sound like denial.”

“He essentially ran away.”

A shrug. “Well, can you blame him? He’s been already through a lot—”

“We’ve all been through a lot, but we’re not running away.”

“True, but that’s because you’re dangerously violent and I’m a culinary pyromaniac.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You’ve actually been diagnosed?”

“Oh, no. Not officially. I just find its easier to convey the overall gist of my predilection by such a title.”

“It certainly sounds diagnostic.”

“Good. I’m hoping it’s more summative than the story I told you and Mister Dooven in Vierlême. I do feel it’s more succinct.” He went to her. “Look, Miss Tabby, things are moving quickly enough. The Echelon has been advised, and they’re already working out a roster with the Boeviss—”

“But talks could take months! Bisarah could be wiped out before then. You saw what happened here and in Vierlême: there might not be anyone left who’s able to fight!”

“But we have initial training organised for this morning.”

“Is that today?”

He glanced at the window again. “When it actually arrives, yes.”

She rested her face in paws. “I’ve lost all track of time.”

“Have you slept at all?”

She shook her head.

He rested a paw upon her shoulder. “Miss Tabby, you must admit that the armies of this world have an extraordinary talent for organising things. They can have major festivals up and running within hours. It’s that sort of skill and training that we’ll begin to exploit—”

“Yes, but this isn’t about festivals.”

“Not directly, no. But such organisation skills remain formidable. And you’re forgetting that while the Boeviss and other leaders grapple with the fundamentals of what is required, Prince Letherin and Princess Kilerete already have some idea. I know, for example, that Prince Letherin is deeply relieved to have made your and Oscar’s acquaintance, as prior to it he had no explanation for the appalling violence that he’s already been driven to.”

Tabby looked up. “He’s relieved?”

Jeffemeries nodded. “Oh, yes. Very. He has many questions for you and Mister Dooven once the more immediate logistics are dealt with. Until meeting you, he was convinced he was going insane-of-the-mind.”

“He told you this?”

“No. Mironaelk did.”

Tabby looked away. “I don’t think I can help much.”

“But aren’t you insane-of-the-mind?”

“Utterly, but I only know about spontaneous violence.”

“So does Prince Letherin.”

“Yes, but it’s Oscar who knows about the Ar’dath-Irr and the Morigan, and the Inaugurate Halls of Liebe and things. It’s why we need him. It’s why we can’t do this without him.”

“Then, certainly, discussions will be held.”

“He might refuse to be part of them.”

“He’d refuse an audience with Prince Letherin?”

“Oscar would refuse an audience with anyone, unless it was to listen to his fluffing recital.”

Jeffemeries sounded unconvinced. “They have already fought together twice, Miss Tabby, and that fosters a bond of considerable strength that cannot be denied.”

Despite finding relief at the dog’s words, Tabby sagged to the floor. “I’m so tired,” she said, closing her eyes against the carpet.

“When did you last sleep properly?”

“Not since the palace was hit. There’s been too much happening.”

Jeffemeries nodded. He went to the bedroom and retrieved a pillow and blanket, which he placed under and upon her.

“Rest a while, Miss Tabby,” he said, before settling into the chair she’d vacated. “Another hour, at least. Then we shall have breakfast and find Mironaelk, and she’ll certainly quell your concerns further. In the meantime, know that things are moving, nonetheless.” He glanced at the window again. “As much as I hate to see it happen, the animals of this world will rise, I am certain of it. They are, after all, surprisingly receptive to new ideas.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Oh, yes. I mean, just look at the standing ovulation you and Mister Dooven got after your argument in the corridor.”

“Ovulation?”

“Sorry, I meant ovation. Not only have they never seen arguing before, but certainly not like that. To be honest, neither had I—and that’s despite my disaster in Flumic. I suspect that’s why Mister Dooven is so eager to recite poetry here: even an animal with absolutely no talent would be embraced when attempting the avant-garde.”

“So you’ve heard his poetry then?”

He laughed. “No, but I’m certain it’s brilliant. After all, he’s a remarkable animal. And even if it isn’t very good, that doesn’t matter. Clearly, originality excites and surprises animals here. Just as my baking does and just as your earlier row did. So remember, Miss Tabby, when you’re overwhelmed at what’s required to educating the animals of this land, just how open they are to new experiences.”

“Thank you, Jeffemeries,” she said, snuggling into the blanket. “That helps a great deal.”