It's dark. No sounds from the street. There should be sounds coming in off the street. People and animals and carts and noise. The dark is pressing in and she is unable to move. The Commander has said something. The Sergeant has answered and left. Another Watchman enters and leaves. And another. And another. Still, no sound from the street. She tries to sit up but something or someone is holding her down. She tries to speak. Newborn cat sounds issue from between her lips. She's mewing. She says "I'm mewing, I'm really mewing", but nothing comes out.

The Commander dabs her forehead and sips coffee. "Coffee", she burbles. "Now I'm burbling". "Right, I got that one", as the Commander brings the cup to her lips and she sips...something. "Are you sure I said coffee? This doesn't feel like coffee". "It's the best I have on any given day", smiles the Commander. "Just be glad today was a wash day, the sock they filter this thru wasn't starched though, it's better when they use starch".

"Are you feeling anything, better, worse, nothing perhaps?" She sits, stretches and put a hand to the back of her head. She remembers. "Sugar, needs sugar. I remember." "That bad, huh"
"Commander!" she cries, "I didn't mean about Death." "I know. I know Death is always my unseen companion. He really should make some other friends. Not that I'm bored with his company, but, really to lavish such attention on just me, well, it's undeserved." "Please Commander." She touches his arm. "The Wizards have brought it over from another plane and they can't control it. It will devastate the city, the people, the, well, the everything." "Oh, the Wizards, is it? We can handle anything those idiots can magic up."

"Not his time."

The Commander can see the fear in her face, can hear it in her voice, can feel it on the back of his neck. She is pale with it. The Sergeant in the door is pale with it. The Watchmen behind him are pale with it. "We need mor daytime drills," the Commander whispers under his breath. "Don't you worry, I'll send my best man, along with a couple of trolls, and we'll get this sorted out. Hopefull with maximum bruising and minimal overtime. I've waited a long time to throttle some Wizards, it will do them good. Me, too, come to think of it."

"Please don't make light of this, Commander. I'm speaking as Oracle. I have seen. I have felt this. I don't want to be right about Death. I want to be the Oracle that saves the city, not destroys its." She knows he isn't being glib. She knows it's his way.

The Commander tell the Sergeant in the doorway to get the Captain. She trembles. The Captain is beautiful. And brave, intelligent, well humored and naive. Mostly beautiful. She has never seen anyone, anything, any place that could be described that way until the Captain. She knows that the Commander will want her to explain all the details, feelings, to the Captain, she knows she can't. She'll stutter and mumble. She'll look down at her feet, play with her fingers. She can't recall her mother ever doing that.

Mother always spoke straight and clear. No emotions even with the feelings. Not her. Emotion and feelings were one and the same with her.

"Commander", she sputters. "Can I have a pencil, paper? I wish to write..." "No" he says. "No, you must share your feelings. You're the Oracle." "Can't I share with you and you tell the Captain?" "Did you hit your head harder than I thought? You know it doesn't work that way. You share with the seeker and that's going to be the Captain."

She wants to swear. Loudly. She doesn't.

The Sergeant rushes in and shouts that the Captain is on patrol and he's sent a runner to bring him back to the Watchouse. She relaxes, she knows the Captain's patrols are more like hardy strolls around the whole of the city. She has time to compose herself. Sounds return from the street.

"Please send a note to my brother, I'm going to be here for dinner."