Thisbe let Carlyle’s flesh relax at last, and the Cousin inchwormed sideways, trying to watch as Thisbe circled him. “Whaa—now?” she gasped out.

“What now?” Thisbe cocked her head. “Now you’re going to say, ‘Thank you, Thisbe.’ And I’m going to go back and tell my anxious bash’mates that we have a trustworthy new sensayer, and no one has to worry about you blabbing.”

Carlyle’s body rocked, her lips attempting words. “Th… th-th—th.”

Thisbe sighed. “Was I too rough? You’re a frail thing, aren’t you? Oh, well.” She leaned down, close enough to kiss. “Run away, little sensayer. Run home and talk to no one. I’ll be watching, my creatures too, my imps and sprites—I conjure darker things than plastic soldiers. I’ll be watching you, in the cars, in your bash’house, in your bedroom with all the pretty birds painted on the ceiling. It’s a good design—maybe I should make you paint my bedroom too?” She slapped Carlyle gently on the back. “Rest up tonight, but I expect you here promptly tomorrow morning. Ockham will want to debrief you when you’ve recovered, plus Sniper needs their session, and I’ll see if I can corner Cato for you.”

Frozen Carlyle could only twitch and watch as the witch retreated slowly, the grass with its army of hidden crawling things caressing her gleaming boots. Thisbe paused at the door to let herself taste Carlyle’s fear-sweat a moment longer, sweet as gingerbread.

“Thiz!” Sniper cried from within the instant she opened the door. “Tell me everything you know about J.E.D.D. Mason!”

Her voice was ice. “Don’t come into my room without permission, Cardigan.”

“Sorry. Did it go well?”

“Swimmingly.” Thisbe moved to block Sniper’s view of the collapsed Cousin, but Carlyle could still hear their words across the stillness of the grass. “Carlyle’s comfortable with everything, and I’m sure we can trust them now.”

The living doll held the door for her. “Great. Should I get Ockham?”

“No, Carlyle’s tired tonight. I’ve told them to come in the morning. Why are you here, Cardie?”

“Tell me everything you know about J.E.D.D. Mason. Ockham was telling me more, things the President said, but it doesn’t add up. Thiz, doesn’t it bother you that Andō’s supposed child doesn’t look half-Japanese? A bit of something East Asian in the mix maybe, but not what you’d expect of Andō’s child.”

The door closed behind the ba’sibs, leaving Carlyle slumped like a carcass abandoned when the hunt has too much prey to carry home. The shock was too absolute, too saturated to be confined by names like terror or despair. She did not try to rise, but flopped onto her back as trembling gave way again to tears. Just tears. It doesn’t matter how long she lay there, ten minutes, an hour, two; feelings that deep dissolve the illusion that time can be measured.

“Ruff! Wuff wuff! Auuuuuw Auuuu!” Hearty as home’s lights through a storm, Boo’s bark rang through the flower trench. The blue dog trundled over to the sensayer, sniffing and wagging, its curious nose trailing wet warmth across Carlyle’s trembling hands.