The Gray House

Noble, pointedly shielding himself from the world behind a book, doesn’t look like a person in the mood to share information. When suddenly woken up, he is better left alone. Especially if it’s Cases doing the waking up.

“Why would anyone smell like Solomon?” Tabaqui asks. “What is this about, Sphinx? What are you hiding from us?”

Sphinx relates Vulture’s message. Tabaqui reddens threateningly. Lary silently upraises his hands. Blind, in the meantime, homes in on the food that Humpback secreted away for Nanette, relieves him of one of the packets, and contentedly devours it.

“Yep,” he says indistinctly. “Sol has been living in the basement and Red brings him food down there. I didn’t know he ventured out, though. Must have gotten bolder.”

Sphinx is surprised and heartened at Blind’s awareness. Tabaqui is aghast at Red’s behavior.

“The damn murderer!” he fumes. “And there’s Red feeding him! You guys are completely mental! This, after everything that happened between them! It’s a miracle Solomon hasn’t finished the job yet. On the other hand, who’d feed him then? On the other other hand, depends on what the feed is. If it’s the scraps like what Blind’s been gobbling, might as well cut him. Nothing to lose either way.”

Blind puts the empty packet aside, unbuttons his frock coat, extracts the bedraggled crow from its recesses, and places her on the table.

“Almost forgot that I brought her along,” he says. “I thought I’d better. Those Cases don’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Humpback snatches his pet and straightens out her feathers.

“What were you thinking, Blind? Keeping the bird under your clothes all this time! She can barely stand, poor thing!”

“I’m sorry. I told you, I forgot.”

The pack solemnly regards the Leader who is capable of forgetting about a crow hidden on his person.

“He’s not a completely lost cause yet, tempting though to think he is,” Tabaqui says to Sphinx soothingly. “Believe me, he’s still full of surprises.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Sphinx stands up. “I’ll go ask Red why he’s so jumpy all of a sudden. I hope he isn’t holding a horseshoe in his mouth that would interfere with his ability to speak.”

Sphinx starts in the direction of the windowsill occupied by Red, but is intercepted by Black, rising up from the Sixth’s table; his desire to have a private conversation is so obvious that every Hound in the vicinity immediately makes himself scarce to allow him the opportunity. To the extent it’s possible in a room crammed with people.

“Sphinx, can I have a minute?”

Sphinx waits resignedly for Hound Leader—decked to the gills in the regalia of his position, including the collar that for him is not a required accessory—to approach.

“I need to tell you something . . .” Black’s chin thrusts forward, his pale eyebrows bunch together over the bridge of the nose. “I have finally done it!”

This sounds so ominous that Sphinx is reluctant to clarify what he’s talking about. He’s overwhelmed by the desire to cry out “Why, oh why have you done it, Black”—so strong that he’s barely able to stop himself.

“You are probably going to laugh . . .”

“No,” Sphinx says firmly. “I’m not. Whatever else, this I can promise.”

Black’s eyes glaze over.

“I found a bus. A small one.”

Sphinx nods, says “I see,” and uses his shoulder to wipe the sweat off his face. Then he says “Why?” in exactly the plaintive voice that he successfully fought off not a minute ago.

Black looks around and begins to whisper confidentially.

“I had to distract them with something, don’t you see? Buck them up a little. I couldn’t just sit on my hands looking at how they were all running scared half to death. And then there was all this talk about a bus. So I figured I’ll get them their bus. I’m their Leader, after all, right? Remember how I told you that I knew where to find one? Well, I didn’t get it from there exactly, there was this other place. Doesn’t matter, anyway. The important thing is, it exists.”

Sphinx nods.

“Right. That’s the important thing. I get it, Black. It’s great, it’s wonderful. But what are you going to do if they take it into their heads to actually use it?”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” Black says pensively. “Because, you see, I can’t just go and tell them that it was all for show, so that they wouldn’t go stir crazy on me. I parked the bus near the dump and tossed some trash over it. You wouldn’t believe it, but they used to visit it three times a day, every day, until those guys with the tents showed up. So now they don’t anymore, of course, but the fact of it being there is what’s keeping them together, you see?”

Sphinx looks at Black like it’s the first time he sees him. The blue icicles of the eyes framed by the pale eyelashes. The dancing skeletons on the black pirate bandana.

“What I see is that you’re screwed,” Sphinx says. “That’s what I see.”

Black sighs.

“I know that. So, what do you think I should do?”