But thou canst save Carlyle, Mycroft. Thou art close at hand, yes? As I understand it, this whole house is thy large and roaming prison, strange haven from the wrathful world that calls anew for Mycroft Canner’s blood.

You are right, good reader. I am but four stories above the young sensayer, a few halls past screaming distance.

Thou must save Carlyle then. The Cousin is a fool to come, but still does not deserve what lies in wait.

Would that obedience were easy, compassionate master. But, while I may rival greyhounds over open ground, I am as helpless as any man in Madame’s labyrinth of doors and doorkeepers. I began at once to plead my way past the many checkpoints of the house, strong doors and their strong keepers, but even as I raced I feared that slow was too slow.

Call on thy tracker, then, and warn the victim of the trap.

Alas, the sweet sensayer knew my name now. The ears of Carlyle Foster were deaf to the words of Mycroft Canner. If I called, Carlyle would cut me off in seconds. I might get in a sentence or two first, and I would save those for the true crisis moment, when it came. Better to head down in person, since a switch’s flick could not silence me if we stood face to face. So I raced, and watched, and dispatched a silent prayer too as I watched, on the off chance that This Universe’s God was not as deaf to me as was His priest. You may, if you wish to aid us, pray as well, reader. The Hand that weaves Providence knows everything from creation to infinity, and takes account of the future when He plans the past; if prayer has any power to sway Fate, then even though, from your perspective, Carlyle was either saved or not saved long ago, it could still be your prayer, now, as you read, that swayed the Judge. Free and righteous as you probably are, you may pray for any intervention you imagine: a timely call from a bash’mate, Kosala wandering by, a house fire. For myself, low creature that I am, I dared not ask so much: only that Fate might be so kind as to let Carlyle find Dominic in a gentle mood, as I had found him thirteen years ago, the first time I begged my way back into that house.