Rook

their alcoholic beverages in an effort to cope with the knowledge of impending obliteration.
    I took a few more gulps and became aware that there were two blond Cockney girls down the bar from me, commenting freely on society in general and the patrons of the pub in particular. One was tall and thin, and one was built like a normal person. They were both leaning against the bar and surveying the room.
    At the Estate, they teach us high-level observation and evaluation skills, but the intense analytical breakdown that these two girls were working up on the customers of the Eight Bells was astounding.
    “The lad in blue is gay.”
    “Gay and doesn’t know it.”
    “The girl in the hat is from Eastern Europe.”
    “And has only had access to good clothing stores for two days.”
    “Okay, that short girl in the suit down the bar from us…”
    “Is going to lose her memory, I
know!”
I shouted at them. “I’m
aware.
God!” I removed the bendy straw, threw back my head and drained my ridiculous drink, then stalked out of the place.
    That’s how I found out that I was going to lose my memory and eventually acknowledged it was true. When I finally got home, as I was unlocking the door, I remembered something else the homeless man had said.
    “Someone new will open the eyes that used to be yours.”
    There would be someone new in my body. And little Martin had said that person wouldn’t know who she was. I hadn’t come to terms with any of it—that took a lot longer—but it was the thought of that person, of you, of someone even more alone than I was, that got me through that night and led me to write these letters to you.
    T he next morning I found out that little Martin had died in the night, from complications.
     

13
     
    M yfanwy woke up in Thomas’s very comfortable bed. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was still early. Apparently, she was a morning person. At least she had a few minutes to snuggle back among the cushions and scheme before she needed to face the day.
    The big problem is that I’ve got no idea how to impersonate Myfanwy Thomas. Nobody seems able to agree on what she was like. Painfully shy, yet bold in policy. Quiet and withdrawn, but she rises to the Court. And my taking the lead last night certainly seemed to throw the Court off balance. Am I in danger of blowing my cover? They can’t say that I’m not Myfanwy Thomas, because I
am
Myfanwy Thomas. They can do all the physical tests they like, and I’ll pass them. And if Rook Thomas starts behaving differently, well, she has the power to do as she likes, as long as she gets the job done.
    So all I have to do is get the job done.
    Myfanwy got out of bed and set out to explore. The previous night, after she’d left the meeting, the car had taken her to Thomas’s house. She’d entered it, deactivated the beeping alarm (good old 230500), and wandered blearily upstairs until she found a room with a bed. For all she knew, she might be in the guest room. Still, judging by the bedside table with its little dish filled with coins and receipts, this was probably Thomas’s room. Which meant that these were Thomas’s closets. She opened one and then the other, disappointed to find that the clothing kept at home was just as boring as the clothing in the flat and in her chambers at the main office.
    In stark contrast to her wardrobe, Thomas’s house was lovely,beautifully designed and decorated and packed full of interesting things. Along the walls were tall bookcases crammed with books.
    In the kitchen, she found a note on the counter.
    Ms. Thomas,
    I got the call from your secretary, so I won’t stay. I know you’re going out to dinner, but I’ve left a cold meal for you in the fridge, just in case, and changed Wolfgang’s litter tray. Unless I hear different, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.
    Val
     
    Okay, so I have a housekeeper,
thought Myfanwy. She investigated the fridge and found a delicious-looking assortment of meats, cheeses, and vegetables.
And she cooks! And I’ve got a cat! Named Wolfgang.
After snagging a fistful of baby carrots, Myfanwy wandered through the house.
    “Wolfgang?” There was no mewing or pitter-patter of little feet. She checked the doors for a cat flap and found none.
Oh God, it better be a cat. If she has some sort of bizarre hairy thing wandering around…
“Wolfgang?” There was a flicker of movement through a doorway, and Myfanwy found herself staring at a rabbit with extremely long