Behind the door, they found a high, bright, enormous space with many windows. The rafters were visible above; a massive fireplace and a single closed door were set along one wall.

Hava crossed quickly to that door and tried it. Finding it locked, she knelt, examined the keyhole, then tried her lock picks again. “This one’s more difficult,” she said.

As Giddon’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, the big attic space became stranger than it had first seemed. “Hava?” he said, staring. “What do you think of this room?” Colorful paintings covered the walls. In fact, the paintings weren’t just on the walls; they extended onto the window moldings and the rafters, even parts of the floor, most of the ceiling. They were scenes of blue foxes having adventures. Jumping from one tree to another; flying with what looked like makeshift wings; sleeping on mounds of candy; sailing in boats and soaring in airships. Furthermore, though the room contained no furniture in the usual sense of the word, there were narrow, raised platforms built directly onto some of the walls. Like shelves, but with unusual orientations. Straight passageways, steps, hills, slopes, maybe crossing a wall, maybe creating a path over and around a window. A sort of jungle gym? For the world’s most spoiled . . . cats? Did cats like paintings of blue foxes? Also, why weren’t there any cats up here now? And why was the attic kept locked if it was just a cat playroom?

“There are seven tiny little beds in front of the fireplace,” said Hava, who’d come to stand beside him.

“Seven?” said Giddon. “Not twelve?”

“Either the cats share,” said Hava, “or they’re not for the cats.”

“Wait,” said Giddon. “But, seven? Now we’re thinking she doesn’t just have one secret fox, but seven?”

“If she’s breaking the rules by secretly bonding to a fox,” said Hava, “why shouldn’t she break them even more by bonding to several?”

“But why would she do it?” said Giddon. “She wouldn’t just be breaking rules, Hava. She’d be breaking the law.”

“On the axis of annoying to interesting,” said Hava, “Quona is tipping further toward interesting.” Then she frowned at a spot about waist-height on the wall, walked to it, and pushed. A little hinged door, like a cat door right there in the middle of the wall, swung forward and back again. Stairs led to it and the painting on the wall obscured it.

“Whoever this room is for,” said Hava, “it looks like they have paths into the walls.”

Remembering all the sounds of scurrying, Giddon suppressed a shudder. “Can you get into that locked room?”

“I’ll try again.”