“Indeed,” agreed Lenora, and the man went to work. He was very fast. She could feel him painting whiskers on her cheeks, and then he snatched something from a passing costume tray and attached it to her head, and Lenora could feel that they must be twitching ears. His hands flew around like birds, doing something around her eyes with makeup pencils and brushes, and when Lenora looked down she could see she had a furry body she didn’t have before, and when she shifted uncomfortably in her chair she realized a tail had been added as well. Really it all felt quite marvelous, and she had to fight back an urge to leap from the chair and begin exploring.

“There!” cried the man, stepping back. “Some of my finest work, if I don’t mind saying so! Now go find that kitten!”

“Yes!” cried Lenora, and she leapt from the chair. To her surprise she bounded several feet into the air and landed as lightly and easily as could be. Ahead of her were concrete steps, and she practically flew up them to the top, hardly noticing that she was doing it on all fours. There was an open door, and beyond it:

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lenora Races Across the Sands

Sand, red sand, on and on to a dark blue horizon.

Above that was what appeared to be a perfect night sky, black as stone, twinkling with fiery stars next to a sliver of moon. Lenora supposed those must be lights in the ceiling. The library really had done a terrific job on the diorama.

To her right, she could see the edge of the sand and then a velvet rope and, beyond that, crowds of people lining the library hallway, all of them pointing at various details and either gawking in awe or taking notes.

To her left, Lenora saw nothing but ancient Egypt, stretching over the starlit sands. That dark blue horizon had to end in a wall, cleverly concealed by expert designers, but you wouldn’t know it from looking.

Speaking of looking, there was something astonishing about her vision: There was more of everything. She could see much farther to the left and the right than she normally could. She supposed it must be from what the makeup artist did with her eyes. She wanted to write it down in her notebook, but she had left it behind. And besides, when she looked down at her hands—which looked not like hands but more like paws now that the makeup artist was done with them—Lenora thought she could probably not hold a pencil right now anyway.