Rhiow gazed off in the direction of the street, waiting for Saash to finish washing, and making faces at the flea powder, and scratching, and shaking herself. Rhiow privately doubted that the problem was fleas. Saash simply seemed to be allergic to her own skin, and itched all the time, no matter what anyone did: she couldn’t make more than a move or two before stopping to put her fur back in order, even when it was perfectly smooth. When they had started working together, Rhiow had thought the constant grooming was vanity, and blows had been exchanged over it. Now she knew better.

Saash shook her coat out and sat down again properly. “There,” she said. “I’m sorry, Rhi. ’Luck to you too.”

“You heard?”

“They called me,” Saash said in her little breathy voice, “right in the middle of breakfast. Typical.”

“I was sleeping myself. Any sign of Urruah yet?”

Saash looked disdainful. “He’s probably snoring at the bottom of that Dumpster he was describing in such ecstatic detail yesterday.” She made an ironic breath-smelling face, one suggestive of a cat whiffing something better suited for a houff to roll in than for any kind of meal.

“Saash,” Rhiow said, “for pity’s sake, don’t start in on him this morning: I can’t cope. —Were They more specific with you than They were with me? I got a sense that something was wrong with the north-side gate again, but that was all.”

Saash looked over her shoulder and washed briefly down her back. “Au, it’s the north one, all right,” she said, straightening up again. “It looks like someone did an out-of-hours access and forgot that the north gate’s diurnicity timings change when it’s accessed. So it’s sitting there still patent.”

“And after we just got the hihhhh thing fixed…!” Rhiow lashed her tail in irritation.

“My thought exactly.”

“But who in the worlds would be accessing it out-hours without checking the rates first? That’s pretty basic stuff. Even ehhif know enough to check the di-timings before they transit, and they can’t even see the strings.”