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[b]Canada![/b]

You go down, hard, into the empty fountain, and before you can get your head straight the monster’s on top of you, pinning you down, neon blue saw-tongue lashing in front of your face as it opens its jaw full of jagged teeth, throbbing white eyes rolling madly, its rubbery flesh fully retracted from its horrid skull as it screams.

“And you’re dead.” The Cat’s acidic tone cuts through the howl, and the monster sits back up on his haunches and offers you a hand. The Cat hops up onto the fountain next to you, smooth as butter. “Can you tell me what you did wrong?”

You are, like, 90% certain that the Cat is Variance’s patronus. Variance and the Cat have the same mannerisms, the same inflection, and the same worldly-wise manner, and they both give you withering looks whenever you bring up the subject. On the other hand, the Cat’s monochrome eyes are neon green, not milky white. And Variance wouldn’t be caught dead in such a dapper little waistcoat. It’s got a tiny pocketwatch and everything!

“I reckon it was when ya let me get you to bang your shin on the fountain,” Goudan says, cheerfully. Strange beings come and go on an irregular basis here, but Goudan is a regular. He lurches about, doing what he calls important work in the upper corridors, but always is happy to provide a sparring match if the Cat calls for him. “Got skittish. Gotta get that skit all outta your system.”

“Quite,” the Cat says in Variance’s clipped sarcasm, her tail lashing impatiently. “But I’m more interested in Canada’s analysis, Goudan.”

“Right, sorry,” he says, his ruff of fur settling back around the back of his skull. “Go ahead, Cannie, tell her what you learned.”

***

[b]Anathet![/b]

“You will perform a one-act play in honor of the Lady Tirzah,” Auntie Rose hoarsely whispers. Her eyes glint under the cowl of her voluminous robes. Her emotions are like an entire thornbush filling up your little shrine, prickly and mean. “It is to praise her virtues and commend her in the eyes of her judges.” Who could forget that Tirzah has ~important secret police exams~ coming up? And how insufferably corrupt is throwing a party and inviting the judges over beforehand, anyhow? “You are not to take on the role of one above you on the Chain. You are not to be boring. You are not to be indecent. You have until tomorrow at sundown to offer me your script for review.”

What that really means is that she expects it tonight. If you’re on time, you’re late. You’re “not showing enthusiasm.” You’re “a concern.” Auntie Rose makes sure no concerns ever trouble the Annunaki, and she does it like a gardener dealing with dead limbs. You have a cushy job here, but piss off Auntie Rose (and become boring to the masters) and you might find yourself scrubbing toilets instead.

“I do hope you rise to the occasion, Earther,” she whines, touching your shoulder with a spindly hand, her fingers heavy with jewels. “Do not disappoint.”

***

[b]Étoile![/b]

Jezcha ab-Marduk is the [i]worst.[/i] She pledged early and wholeheartedly to the House of Marduk, following in the footsteps of her father, because nothing says ACAB like a bunch of swaggering bullies. (The ab-Marduki are, like, the beat cops and prison guards to the ab-Ereshkigali CIA.) And she learned to punch down early. That’s why Tirzah’s so good at ducking out of rooms.

Today, this bullying has taken the form of telling Tamytha that the two of them are going to the Wilderness Preserve to hunt. So here you are, sitting in the close quarters of a chariot (which is more like an enclosed, fighter-jet-sized podracer with engines shaped like space horses) with the Worst Person and her nervously chittering Macaw manservant.

“Maybe if I’m lucky,” Jezcha sneers, “some animal will kill you. Then Dad will let me go kill some of them until they’re punished enough.” Tamytha sniffles and tries to take up less space. “Tranqs are fine, but you haven’t really had fun until you’ve gone animal hunting with real guns.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to catch anything,” Tamytha says, flatly. “I’m not very fast...”

“Of course you won’t,” Jezcha says, leaning forward. “Because you’re pathetic. Dad says you must be part Lynx. The sick part. Mom went down the Chain and made [i]you.[/i]”

The Macaw cackles until Jezcha shoves him, choking him against his seatbelt. Outside, the Eiffel Tower is visible for a moment, flying a massive banner dedicated to the gods.