Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

“‘Pompey requests the Leaders of all packs to assemble in the Coffeepot for an important discussion,’” Sphinx read out.

He shrugged and passed the note to Blind.

As soon as those words were said, everyone started talking at once. The silence was shattered. Logs began their rounds between the tables. Pheasants clustered together to better guard against a perceived assault.

“This is an outrage!” Vulture shouted above the fevered din of voices. “People are in mourning here!”

Pompey raised his hands in a mollifying gesture.

“I commiserate,” he said. “But business is business.”

Vulture scowled dismissively, and Birds reflected his grimace in a dozen bad mirrors.

We were wheeling out in a throng of chattering, hopping Rats. Then there was a traffic jam at the doors, composed mostly of those who wanted to keep alongside us, trying to read our faces. The Great Game abruptly shifted into active mode.

The sky was whitish outside the windows. The fog seemed to wrap the House in a big blob of cotton wool. And it also became very chilly. Like the temperature dropped several degrees in an instant. Or maybe it was just me getting the chills from all this.

Near the Coffeepot the throng thinned out a bit. The Pheasants dropped away, and the rest coalesced into groups. The Leaders marched into the Coffeepot one after the other. Once they were gone, the volume of the conversation went down significantly. Everyone waited.

The Rats were emitting muted snippets of music.

“I told you,” Lary mumbled, chewing his unlit cigarette into shreds. “I warned you. And now this ...”

“So, what now? A rumble?” I asked, trying to sound casual. The way it came out almost made me gag.

“No, a candlelit dinner, mon poilu ,” Tabaqui snapped.

Humpback said that there was no sense in all of us sticking around. He himself didn't move an inch.

“You're right,” Sphinx said. “Anything important we’ll find out from Blind.”

He also stayed put.

Alexander gave Tubby a bread roll. Humpback lit a cigarette.

Even knowing perfectly well that all of this was just a game, I still felt nervous. Everyone was in character a little too well.

Finally the door of the Coffeepot opened. Pompey emerged first. He turned toward Hounds and stuck up his thumb. Hounds roared approvingly. Blind and Vulture came out together and shuffled away, immersed in a hushed conversation. Red never appeared at all. It was as if the others had eaten him whole in the course of the meeting.

“Oh god,” Lary moaned when he noticed Pompey walking in our direction.

The packs, having already started to disperse, quickly resumed their places in the dress circle.

Pompey came closer. Tall, swarthy, with his chic Mohawk. But no bat, I noticed. Maybe it had already croaked.

“Can we talk?” he asked Sphinx.

“You already had a talk with Blind, what else do you want?”

Pompey took out a cigarette. He stood there among us like he was in his own room. Not anxious at all. Even a little showy. For some reason, we were the anxious ones.

“I've recently learned of this old Law,” Pompey explained between puffs. “It made me very sad. This, you know, prehistoric crap... And it's exactly the reason I've dragged this out for so long. I just refused to believe it. I know all the guys were saying it was not in force anymore. But still ...”

Hounds drifted closer, not wanting to miss even a single word.

“It is my opinion,” Pompey continued, looking distractedly over our heads, “that it was invented by cowardly Leaders. So that made me apprehensive, as you can imagine.”

The invisible ice could be chipped off Sphinx with a pick.

“But you're not apprehensive anymore?” he asked.

“I overcame that,” Pompey announced proudly.

“Congratulations.”

“But I would still like to make sure. Is your pack following it?”

“No,” Sphinx said. “Anything else?”

“You are behaving a bit rudely,” Pompey said, frowning. “In the big scheme of things I'm looking out for your own interest.”

Tabaqui, behind Pompey's back, very realistically imitated throwing up.

“There's no need,” Sphinx said. “We are all free.”

“Well, that's nice,” Pompey sighed with relief.

“It's not nice.”

“You mean you're in favor of that shit?”

Sphinx shook his head. His look, directed at Pompey, was more calculating than anything else. Like he was weighing something in his mind, trying to come to a decision.

“No,” he said finally and turned away. “It's useless.”

Pompey assumed a businesslike air. He even threw away the cigarette.

“All right, out with it. What's this about?”

“Nothing. Where's your bat?”

This question took Pompey completely aback. At first he was surprised. Then offended.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Not at all.”

Pompey's face darkened.

“We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow. Bats and all. Maybe your head will clear up a bit by then.”

“Maybe,” Sphinx agreed. And laughed. Really laughed, not faking it.

I sighed, relieved. Finally someone blew it. Went out of character, spoiled the game for himself and others. I was really glad that he did, even though I couldn't explain why. So people invented a game for themselves, what was so bad about that? I was sure that this was the end of it, that Sphinx's laughter would now spread to others and everyone would abandon the script.

None of that happened.

Pompey feigned taking umbrage, said “Right. See you,” and stomped off to join with Hounds. The Sixth surrounded him, shielding him from us.

Soon after, Rats, each in his own little cloud of music, slowly drifted away. There was nothing more that seemed to be happening in front of the Coffeepot. Tabaqui circled around on his Mustang, hanging over the side with his face almost to the floor, apparently looking for something. Alexander was pulling threads out of his sweater.

“What are we waiting for here?” Humpback asked. “Or is this where the new place of encampment is?”

“This is where the saliva of the Great Hound is,” Tabaqui piped happily, peering into something invisible on the floorboards. “I knew it! He spit right over here somewhere. He was really pissed, so it's genuine hate spit. Someone stepped in it slightly, I’ll admit that, but still, putting the voodoo on him now would not be a problem at all.”

“Don't even think about touching that!” Sphinx barked.

Tabaqui's giggles became even more ecstatic.

Humpback wheeled Tubby, covered in bread crumbs, past us, and I followed them. I desperately needed some coffee. I also needed to ask Black a couple of questions.

When we reached the dorm, Blind was nowhere to be seen. Black was sitting on his bed. Tabaqui took all kinds of sacks and boxes out of the storage, dumped them in a huge pile, and proceeded to dive into it, emerging from time to time wearing something new and inquiring whether or not it suited him. Tubby bumped his head against the edge of his pen and started wailing. Alexander hauled him onto the common bed too.

By the time the commotion died down a little, Black had already managed to make himself scarce, so I couldn't ask him anything. I crawled over to Sphinx, lying there all mysterious and inaccessible with his feet up on the bed frame, and inquired what was in that prehistoric Law that Pompey was talking about.

Until I asked the question, everyone was seemingly busy with their own pursuits, but now they all quit what they were doing, came closer, and stared at the two of us.

“I just adore Smoker,” Tabaqui mumbled, pulling another sack full of indescribable stuff closer to the bed. “Listen to the crisp way he frames his questions!”