The cat finished its cookie.
I want to be clear about the order of events, because it matters. It did not run. It did not hiss. It finished its cookie first, with the unhurried confidence of a thing that has never once in its life been in danger, and then it stood, and stretched, and walked toward me across the ruined street.
Priya's shadows moved to put themselves between us on instinct. The cat glanced at them. The shadows — three ribbons of living darkness that had, ten minutes ago, helped kill a Guardian — flinched back like scolded dogs.
"Okay," Priya whispered. "That's not a cat."
"No," I agreed. My mouth was dry. "I don't think it is."
The box over its head flickered, and the cold old font resolved into words.
You weren't supposed to make it this far, little Copyist.None of you ever do. That's the whole design. Roll the worst class, feel the leash, quit, become someone's XP.Clean. Quiet.And then you had to go andaim.
"Who are you," I said. Not a question. I was too scared for it to be a question.
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A caretaker. One of the ones who tied the knots. I've turned back half a dozen Copyists on this continent this week alone — found them, felt them hit the leash, watched them give up before they'd ground a single skill past two percent. That's the design. That's what always happens. You didn't quit, and now I have to decide what you are.
The cat sat down in front of me. It tilted its head, and for just a moment there was something almost warm in the cold font — the warmth of a thing that has found a new toy.
Here is your situation, Leo, since you like your numbers. There are six more Thresholds in this city, and each one is a leash tied to something the caretakers do not want a Copyist to ever stand next to and copy. You cleared one already. If you clear the rest — on purpose — you will end up standing in front of the thing at the center. The thing they built all the leashes to keep you away from.Most people would take that as a warning.
It looked at me. I looked back. Somewhere behind me, Mr. Halloran was laughing his I've-decided-to-live laugh, and Priya was swearing softly, and a coat was still lying over two people by a churro cart because the world had started keeping a body count and someone needed to make it stop.
I thought about the leash. About a number set deliberately low so that people like me would give up before they found out what they were.
"Where's the next one," I said.
The cat's box flickered, and the cold font did something I could only call a smile.
Oh, it said. You're going to be a problem.
[New Objective: Clear the Second Threshold.][Warning: You are now being watched.]