“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lady Tchainsaw. “I doubt you’ve even epiphanized. And even if you had you’d obviously be an elysian bard. All you’re interested in is pleasure, yourself and your terrible books.”

“But mages—”

“Mages are far darker and more mysterious than you’ll ever be, you desperate little nobody.”

“Don’t you like me anymore?” said Terrence, pouting.

“I like you exactly the same amount as I have always done. Now try to concentrate. This is very important. You will enter the girl’s mind using the technique described in this book, which I am going to lend you. You wait for a moment when she feels doubt or sadness. It is when she feels something that she is vulnerable. Then you slip in.”

“Slip in?”

“You are going to practice on others before I let you loose on the girl. You’ll need this.” Lady Tchainsaw handed him a little vial of liquid. “And this.” She gave him a little bottle of white pills. “Just please read the instructions carefully.”

It all sounded very complicated to Terrence. But he was sure it would be all right in the end. There’d be someone to remind him what to say and do. There was always someone like that in every situation. A publicist usually, or a bookseller, or a teacher. Yes, there’d probably be a nice teacher who could help. Or a technician, to adjust the volume on his microphone, like there always was at his book events. He drained the last of his vodka and smiled his most winning smile at Lady Tchainsaw.

19

BY LATE ON SUNDAY night, more cats had made it through the secret network of passageways and into the basement jazz club, out of sight of the butlers and maids on the other levels of the cats’ home. But not enough. There were hundreds of cats still upstairs in the ballroom drinking Pawsecco, or out of their heads on catnip and lying in cardboard boxes. Only about a hundred had made it into the basement. But one of these was Mirabelle.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” said Neptune.

“You seem different,” she said, sniffing him.

“Oh, he’s awoken,” said Malvasia. “And I think he may even have epiphanized as well.”

“It’s been a big night,” said Neptune.

“Right,” said Mirabelle. “Showtime. We’ll talk afterward.”

Mirabelle and Malvasia went up on the stage. The band moved aside for them, and the saxophonist clapped. Soon the whole room was clapping and meowing.

Mirabelle took the microphone.