Tuor beamed down at the surprised felines and then looked up at Kika who stood a full two heads taller. “Shall we move to the parlor? There’s so much to discuss.”

Kika’s thin triangle of wings pulsed once like a single heartbeat before she disintegrated into a plume of smoke that disappeared up the stairwell.

“She said to give her a moment. The little one might be sleeping in there and she is a grumpy thing when she first wakes.” 

Before Fasol could ask any of the dozens of questions suddenly added to his internal list, Tuor turned towards the steps. “She says the parlor is safe. Follow me, boys,” she added as her beaded slippers silently ascended. 

At the top of the stairs, they followed her through a windowless central hallway surrounded by walls covered in framed paintings and niches of vases of fresh flowers and statues of various deities that their eyes could easily make out despite the dim lighting. It ended in a T, and she led them towards the side with the most light. Philemon peeked behind him as they made the turn and scanned the walls and ceilings feeling something watching him. Fasol’s fur was slightly raised, and his nostrils twitched almost imperceptibly as he tried to place the strange scent that was much stronger up on the second floor. 

Having settled on a low chaise opposite a wooden framed cushioned platform with a cat-sized step, she motioned for them to get comfortable. Kika appeared and set a mirrored tray in between the two cats and removed the lid covering a platter of olives and sardines and two bowls of water. 

 “Now then, you have questions about the Veil?” 

The two cats blinked at each other, Fasol warning the prince in the secret language of cats to not give into the temptation of asking about the ‘little one’ who they both realized was possibly much larger than themselves, and a wholly unknown danger.

“Madam Tuor,” Fasol began, “we’re investigating rumors of unusual movements of the Veil over in Ottarstedt. Well, Philemon will be. This is his first mission.”

Something fell in the room above them with a loud bang and Kika poofed away into smoke once more. Tuor smiled, “Ah nothing to be concerned about. She's just not used to her legs and terribly shy."

The cats shared a nervous glance before she continued. "So Philemon, your first mission as a shadow! How exciting, and perfect timing, I have a proposition I think will appeal to a cat with an interest in the Obscure arts.”

Philemon leaned forward, eager to hear more. His pupils widened, entranced. 

“How would you like to discover something entirely new?”

The young prince tipped right over the cushion’s edge and scrambled back up to his equally surprised uncle. “I… would love to but I need to report back to Mother on what’s happening in Ottarstedt.” 

She smiled over the edge of her porcelain teacup, then setting it gently down in its saucer and then both onto the low table in front of her, dramatically turning her wrist in a sweeping gesture. “How about both?”

A few short hours later Philemon was on the road to the college town; heart light and fleet of paw. Singing himself a rain barrier, he hoped Tuor was correct in her suspicions that the rumors and her something-new were one and the same. Her words had demystified an internal fog he’d long held during his training as a shadow—all of his studies finally had a real purpose! He replayed her parting words, inscribing them in his mind, an indelible invocation. “We are more than our eyes; more than shadows, Philemon. Harm watch, harm catch.”