Morning was all but over before Kolkamitza took leave of his bed. Though he’d slept long and deeply, he felt unrested. Perhaps the emotional strain of last night’s quests for strange doors had taken a greater toll than he’d realized. Midnight had found him among the tenements. It was a dangerous area to be skulking around in, but his exhilaration outweighed the risk. He’d rapped on dozens of ugly doors, and, upon knocking, would hunch like a garden gnome, hiding, waiting for some indication that his calling had been upon the right house, that he would be given some piece that was missing from inside himself. Much to his dismay, this did not occur.

Kolkamitza shuffled to the window. His first glimpse of the backyard revealed a very fine-looking Saturday. Summer had come ‘round at last. He opened every window in the house before putting the coffee on.

Rheims was audibly restless before Kolkamitza had even removed the cage’s night coverlet. Standing before the gibbet-like contraption, watching the bird flutter and flit, he was again arrested by the familiar temptation, the compulsion.

He reached to unlatch the cage, stopped short, and then, in tribute to Erin, gave the tiny arched gate a trio of slow knocks.

Rheims instantly went still. His wings taut at his sides, the jackdaw fell forward, landing against the papered base of his cage with a padded thump.

Kolkamitza gazed emptily at his fallen companion. He exhaled dramatically and fixed himself a mug of coffee, giving the kitchen table a measured tap-tap-tap before allowing himself to sit and drink.

His thoughts were an incomprehensible slurry. He fretted over whether he’d remembered to feed and water Rheims, concluding that he had. The bird must have perished from a broken heart, a longing for its mistress. Kolkamitza decided that the least he could do was give the creature a proper burial. He gulped down the dregs in his mug and got dressed.

Outside, the heat was sheer. The simple act of fetching the shovel from the tool shed had Kolkamitza sweating. Rheims was now reposing in a plastic grocery bag, which Kolkamitza rather unceremoniously carried to a random spot in the centre of the yard. He set down the bird in its crinkling shroud and proceeded to dig. The chore was taxing and the pit he wound up forging was slight. Kolkamitza set the jackdaw’s bagged remains inside the hole to better gauge the worth of the grave. He decided to bore out a few more shovelfuls to ensure that Rheims would be safe from scavenging animals.

The shovel struck something solid. The kickback was severe, driving Kolkamitza’s lower teeth into his tongue.