“Do it,” said Wolf. “I’m not scared of you.”

He realized that passion was starting to take him over. Even though he knew what he was saying was right, something in him still longed for battle. He told himself to calm down. He remembered more words from The Art of War Ultimate excellence lies/Not in winning/Every battle/But in defeating the enemy/Without ever fighting.

“But really,” Wolf said, “we should try to resolve whatever issue we have without fighting. True warriors bring peace, not war. What do you actually want from me?”

“Just to understand,” said Aizik. “What do you do for the powerless? How do you protect them?”

“Teach them to stand up for themselves,” said Wolf. “Teach them to stand up for each other—but in a direct way—not hounding people because of rumors or whatever.”

The lights flickered again.

“This does not compute,” said Aizik.

“Look,” said Wolf. “I’ve done everything you’ve said. Why don’t you just read the Tao Te Ching over and over again until it sticks? And now, please, will you give me my sister?”

After a quick lunch—Portobello mushroom burgers with sticky fried onions and lots of ketchup, which Effie and Cait ate from waxed paper by the large decorated tree in the market—Cait went straight home, but Effie decided to drop in on Lexy. There was something not right with her, and Effie was worried. She also wanted to get her M-currency checked properly. Both these things could be achieved with a visit to Mrs. Bottle’s Bun Shop.

Snow carried on falling as Effie walked through the complex sequence of alleyways that led to Mrs. Bottle’s Bun Shop. Effie remembered the day she had epiphanized, and how a special sign had told her where to go. Now she just sensed where portals and magical places were. Today there were a lot of new signs up, but these weren’t magical. They were signs for lost cats. At first Effie thought it was just one cat with a very diligent owner. But in fact it seemed as if almost all the cats in the neighborhood were missing. Magic, Sheba, Pixel, Behemoth, Fiddle, Ginger, Tom and Oedipus all had posters of their own, each with a grainy photograph of them in happier times.

Mrs. Bottle’s Bun Shop appeared out of the snow like something from a long-ago greeting card, except with neon. It looked a little like a punk kid’s version of a gingerbread cottage, with its almost-square door and windows decorated with fairy lights in the shape of skulls (upstairs) and chili peppers (downstairs). The shutters were red today, and the door yellow, although it was never the same two days running. Effie walked in and the door tinkled.