“The matra listen to all rumors and keep track of the Akademiya’s temperature, as it were. It might not supposed to be our knowledge or business, but it’s ours anyway,” Cyno answers. “What’s the shape of the trouble this time, Kaveh?”

“You’ll think it strange.”

Cyno’s mouth slips into the strange, shadowed shape of a smile. “We live in very strange times, Kaveh. Perhaps I’ll find your particular brand of strange troubles an anchor of normalcy among the rest of it.”

Kaveh worries the napkin between his fingers, mulling over the most concise way to say it without sounding crazy. And then he realizes there’s no way to say it without sounding absurd so he just comes out with it plain: “The Cat is gone.”