Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

“You’ll see,” Tabaqui assures him. “One whiff of the potion, and the birdie is going to trail Mermaid everywhere, moaning passionately.”

“I do not approve of anyone or anything trailing my girl with passionate moans!”

“Your approval is immaterial. Too late, the machinery has been put in motion. The only thing left to do now is wait for the results.”

“Are you trying to lure her away from me?” Sphinx says. “Massaging brush for the cats, that light-up umbrella, the alarm bracelet, now this. To say nothing about your joint hunting trips.”

The music suddenly cuts out, and feisty Rats stop punching each other.

R One has stopped at the door and is looking over the canteen sullenly. A counselor at lunchtime is always bad news, and the room goes almost completely quiet, with only the Insensible continuing to munch happily.

“Please stay where you are.”

Ralph slams the door closed behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

“The dorms and classrooms are being searched as we speak. Once the search is over you will be allowed to leave the canteen.”

Rats explode with noise. Bespectacled Pheasant Leader is forced to shout to be heard.

“Excuse me! On behalf of the First I would like clarification, please. The search being conducted, does it encompass all of the dorms?”

“Yes, it does,” Ralph says coldly.

The look of deep affront on the faces of Pheasants somewhat raises the spirits of everyone else. Almost everyone. Except for those who clearly have something to worry about. Lary, for example. Looking at his rapidly graying face it's easy to imagine that the search of his bunk would yield a bloody scalp at the very least.

“Lary, what's wrong?” Sphinx says. “What have you been hiding?”

Lary is silent, apart from heavy sighs. Then he plugs his mouth with the good-luck bolt he has hanging on a cord around his neck and screws up his eyes tightly. Sphinx and Tabaqui exchange glances. Tabaqui shrugs.

“Hey!” he shouts out to Ralph. “How about some extra food, then? To help while away the hours pleasantly?”

Ralph does not acknowledge the suggestion. He has turned his back to those in the canteen and is holding a muted conversation with someone through a crack in the door. Then he steps aside, allowing Humpback in. Humpback enters, looking around suspiciously, and startles when he hears jubilant shouts directed his way.

“And the hermit home from the hill!”

“The Druid has left the hedge! Yay!”

Tabaqui valiantly crashes down on the floor and crawls to Humpback through the muck. Humpback snatches him up, and they come to the table together, Jackal wrapped around his neck, cooing tenderly.

“What's going on here?” Humpback says.

“Search,” Sphinx says. “Rain. You?”

Humpback displays the freshly bandaged fingers.

“Everything's fine. The thumb was starting to ooze a bit, but only a bit. Nothing serious. No reason to go nuts over it.”

“Yes. There. Was. Reason,” Sphinx enunciates.

“All right, there was.” Humpback unloads Tabaqui on the table and pulls a plate toward himself. “I did everything like you said. Calm down, all right?”

Smoker collects whatever's left of the food on Humpback's plate. Lary, still plugged up with the bolt, waves his hand in a feeble salute.

Sitting idly in front of empty plates soon loses its attraction. Rats drift off into the corners with their Walkmans. Birds clear the table and start a round of poker. Tabaqui tosses a white cloth on the floor, sits on top of it, and declares that he's ready to tell fortunes by casting glass beads for anyone who asks. A modest queue forms in front of him.

Ralph steps away from the door, and in come two Cases, each lugging a sleepy Hound. Red dashes over and tries to pump them for news. Hounds yawn and shrug.

Sphinx leans back in his chair.

The dorm searches are nothing new. They've also never yielded anything. This time the counselors are most probably after the knives. Or the drugs pilfered from the Sepulcher. It doesn't matter, really. They are going to find nothing, apart from maybe Solomon, the erstwhile runaway now hiding in the House, if he really is hiding and if they happen to stumble upon him. The only thing that makes Sphinx slightly uneasy is Lary sitting there petrified with the magic bolt in his mouth. He looks like an idiot.

“I have this feeling,” Tabaqui says, shaking the cup with the beads, “that they are not looking for what we think they're looking for.”

“Meaning?”

Tabaqui purses his lips importantly.

“The details are better left unsaid. That would be more appropriate, in my opinion.”

Lary moans softly.

“Damn it, Lary!” Sphinx erupts. “Are you going to tell us what's wrong or are you going to sit here with that thing between your teeth?”

Lary shakes his head and looks at Sphinx accusingly.

Cases reappear. This time they bring Noble and Alexander. Red reprises his dash in hopes of acquiring important information and has to retreat again, defeated.

“So what do I do now?” Hybrid asks Tabaqui glumly.

He's crouching in front of the divination cloth, waiting for some words that would make sense, because he couldn't find any in what Jackal has just told him.

“It would be best to do absolutely nothing,” Tabaqui says. “The way it came out, I'd hold my breath if I were you, old man.”

Upon hearing this pronouncement, three of those waiting in line for their fortunes quickly disperse. Hybrid remains seated in front of the menacingly glittering pattern, dutifully holding his breath.

The next to be brought to the canteen is Blind. Who appears to have been sleeping and taking a shower at the same time.

“Left... Straight... There,” Sphinx says as Blind approaches the table. “What's going on? Are they going to let us out anytime soon?”

Blind carefully positions the chair at some very specific angle, the importance of which is known only to him, sits down, and says that unfortunately the counselors are not in a habit of sharing their plans with him.

“I do not constitute an authority for them.”

“Any prisoners marched down before you? Anyone who smelled like Solomon?”

Blind takes a sniff at the empty plates and shakes his head sadly.

“You have an elevated opinion of me, Sphinx, if you think I can distinguish Solomon by smell from any other Rat. Why don't you ask Noble?”

Noble, pointedly shielding himself from the world behind a book, doesn't look like a person in the mood to share information. When suddenly woken up, he is better left alone. Especially if it's Cases doing the waking up.

“Why would anyone smell like Solomon?” Tabaqui asks. “What is this about, Sphinx? What are you hiding from us?”

Sphinx relates Vulture's message. Tabaqui reddens threateningly. Lary silently upraises his hands. Blind, in the meantime, homes in on the food that Humpback secreted away for Nanette, relieves him of one of the packets, and contentedly devours it.

“Yep,” he says indistinctly. “Sol has been living in the basement and Red brings him food down there. I didn't know he ventured out, though. Must have gotten bolder.”

Sphinx is surprised and heartened at Blind's awareness. Tabaqui is aghast at Red's behavior.

“The damn murderer!” he fumes. “And there's Red feeding him! You guys are completely mental! This, after everything that happened between them! It's a miracle Solomon hasn't finished the job yet. On the other hand, who'd feed him then? On the other other hand, depends on what the feed is. If it's the scraps like what Blind's been gobbling, might as well cut him. Nothing to lose either way.”

Blind puts the empty packet aside, unbuttons his frock coat, extracts the bedraggled crow from its recesses, and places her on the table.