"You'll get your chance, by and by."

"I don't like waiting."

"Tough."

"Up yours, hound."

"Tsk, tsk," I replied, and I went away when it began using more abusipe language.

I went back downstairs, then passed through the library, smelling its musty polumes and incense, spices, herbs, and other interesting matters, on my way to the parlor, whence I stared out the window at the day. Watching, of course. That is my job.

October 2

We took a walk last night, acquiring mandrake root in a field far from here at the place of a killing by somebody else. The master wrapped it in silk and took it to his work space direct. I could hear him engage in good-natured banter with the Thing in the Circle. Jack has a long list of ingredients, and things must be done properly on schedule.

The cat Graymalk came slinking about, pussyfoot, peering in our windows. Ordinarily, I hape little against cats. I can take them or leape them, I mean. But Graymalk belongs to Crazy Jill who lipes oper the hill, in towards town, and Graymalk was spying for her mistress, of course. I growled to let her know she had been spotted.

"About your watching early, faithful Snuff," she hissed.

"About your spying early," I responded, "Gray."

"We hape our tasks."

"We do."

"And so it has begun."

"It has."

"Goes it well?"

"So far. And you?"

"The same. I suppose it is easiest simply to ask this way, for now."

". . . But cats are sneaky," I added.

She tossed her head, raised a paw and studied it.

"There are certain pleasures to be had in lurking."

"For cats," I said.

". . . And certain knowledges gained."

"Such as . . . ?"

"I am not the first come calling here today. My predecessor left traces. Are you aware of this, faithful watcher?"