THOMAS CORFIELD

Panda Books Australia

Sydney — New York — Tokyo — Berlin

LICENCE NOTES

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Copyright 2015 Thomas Corfield

SAMPLE

As the world turned faster, a vicious jolt

tore through him as the Seven intervened.

His eyes were pulled and his ribs twisted,

and breath was leveraged from lungs as his

heart was sought. With gasps and clutches,

the Returned Poet curled himself into a ball

and screwed his eyes tight, concentrating

on reciting the words fizzing in his vision.

As they blurred and tore upon page, he

shouted them instead, battling to finish

stanza while the Seven refused him every

means to. He began to spin then, within his

turning world, nausea enveloping him in a

torrent of river. But still he incanted, the

more desperate his hollering, the larger

words grew until vision was swamped with

individual letters. Spinning faster, his

attempts to remain coiled were undone as

paws were flung from his circumference.

His shouting became scream until he saw

only the letters’ black stroke. And when

brightness became obscured by stroke, the

only thing emanating from his throat was

vomit. Spinning, his head and tail were

pulled apart. Joints popped and gristle tore

like boiled chicken in frenzied feast. His

throat elongated, tore and grew holes. His

chest opened, inverted, and spilt ribs into

air like an over ripe fig, innards spilling

between worlds like wet stars across sky.

From Chapter 11

CONTENTS

Title Page

Licence Notes

Sample

Some Relevant Links

Opening Chapter

SOME RELEVANT LINKS

The Velvet Paw of Asquith Facebook page:

http://www.facebook/doovenbooks

Connect with the author:

https://twitter.com/Doovenism

A bit about the author:

http://www.thomascorfield.com/

Music from the books:

http://www.velvetpawofasquith.com/doove

n-music

Certificate of Achievement:

http://www.velvetpawofasquith.com/quiz

The other Velvet Paw of Asquith novels:

http://www.velvetpawofasquith.com/books

hop

With Eyes No Longer Blind

1

____________________

“Modesty is hard: to try is not to try.”

– The Loud Purr of Asquith.

BENEATH countless stars, the city of Lubnatsi

twinkled with as many lights. It was large and

beautiful, and sprawled down a hillside as though

having been pushed from its crest once upon a

time. Despite the starlight, it was dark. There was

no moon this night. But one animal tearing

through it cared little. His eyes were strong. As

was he. And fighting a screaming throng of

animals fleeing in the opposite direction, he was

about to prove it.

An explosion burst several streets away, its

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2

flash bathing the city in day. The animal ducked

and skidded to a stop. Others cowered, before

realising the next thing bursting into flame would

be them, leaving them to scream again and

continue in flee.

The dog pushed through them and tore down

a side street. Throwing himself over a wall, he

tumbled over the otherside, clattering through

garbage bins and spilling burst bags across

bitumen. He cursed, shook his paws free and

continued on. When rooftops were lit from a

fireball rising into the sky, he realised his direction

was wrong, and cursing, Letherin doubled back,

taking a different route that would get him closer.

But its streets were also choked with fleeing

animals, leaving him to again battle their torrent.

He flailed through them, his paws pushing blindly

at fur and limp and spoons.

When he rounded a corner, he slid to a stop

and gawked at something very insidious indeed.

And despite his determination to find them,

Letherin then wished he had not.

The creatures were huge.

At least three times his height—and Letherin

With Eyes No Longer Blind

3

was taller than most. Their dark bulk shimmered in

the heat of blaze roaring in their wake. They

lumbered with enormous bolts of limb suggesting

they were from another world entirely. Hairy and

muscular, the beasts pounded at walls, powdering

great chunks of masonry to rubble and skittling

sparks through the air like fireworks.

Nearby, animals meandered in daze, numb

with fear. When a beast swiped at them, one was

struck hard and thrown across the road to slam into

a wall. With a crumpled whimper, he fell to the

pavement and rolled into a gutter. Horrified,

several others hurried to his aid and dragged him

from harm’s way. But their rescue rendered them

targets, and the beasts stopped their pulverisation

of building and turned to pulverise things far

fluffier. When they thundered in roar, Letherin

eased himself along a blistered wall in an attempt

to flank the things.

They stalked those withering in the road with

a mass dark and calculating, and hissed with

breath so vile, that were the flames any closer, it

would surely ignite. Gagging in terror, the

stragglers gaped up at the things.

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4

“Please,” one began, raising a tentative paw,

“please don’t tear us apart. We haven’t got our

spoons you see. And we really ought to have our

spoons under these sort of circumstances.”

He glanced at those trembling beside him,

and then the crumpled one they’d absent-mindedly

sat upon when their knees no longer worked.

“Ideally, I’d go home and get some,” the cat

continued. “Enough spoons for us all—you

included. But I can’t by virtue of your having set

fire to it.” He waved frantically his paws in

apology, adding, “Not that I blame you for doing

so! I mean, clearly you had some pretty important

reasons to burn it, rather than smash it to pieces as

you’ve done with so many others. Perhaps you’d

enlighten us? We’d like to help. It’s clear you’re

not particularly keen on buildings. I feel that way

myself sometimes. Not about buildings per se, but

I’m certainly indifferent when slamming my paw

in doors, for example—though I’d probably refrain

from responding with arson.”

The cat was rambling. But terror has that

effect.

The beasts snarled.

With Eyes No Longer Blind

5

“Perhaps you might like to come over to

dinner or something?” he tried further. “We could

have some curry, perhaps. I’m rather good at

curries. And maybe sing a song or two? Although

I’m not vey good at those.”

The beasts took a collective step toward

them.

“May I say you attire is most exotic,” the cat

said, retreating as much as his legs allowed—

which was not at all. “You are not from around

here, I imagine? In which case, may I welcome

you on behalf of all residents of Lubnatsi—even

the ones burning, and hope that your stay is filled

with our warmth of hospitality, and less with the

choking fumes of its burning infrastructure. Had

we known of your arrival, we could have

organised some buildings for you to destroy

without harming those residing within—although

may I emphasise that is in no way a criticism of

you, but rather a reflection on our eagerness to

ensure you have a pleasant visit. Perhaps we could

have organised a fete of some sort. We like fetes.”

The beasts thundered again, appearing keen

to roast something small and fluffy on the

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6

buildings they’d set fire to.

The cat swallowed and glanced at those

beside him, who were unable to offer anything

other than what one might expect under the

circumstances—much to the dismay of the animal

they sat upon.

“It can be terribly frustrating not to find a

decent hotel,” the cat tried again. “Is that possibly

from where your indignation with buildings

arise?”

The beasts stepped toward him and raised

their limbs in a stance bristling with power.

“Perhaps you might like to stay with us?” he

tried. “I’m certain my mother would love to meet

you. She likes foreigners immensely, you see.”

But rather than any pounding, there was

instead a shattering roar of pain.

Which was followed by two more.

Not from those cowering, but from the beasts

themselves.

All three arched backwards, taught in spasm

when several bits of them sailed through the air to

slop upon the road a distance away. They swayed

then, like slain trees deciding on which direction to

With Eyes No Longer Blind

7

fall, before collapsing into the road with a

sickening thud, and bled in a manner akin to

repainting. The ground shook, smoke billowed and

Lubnatsi echoed in thunder.

It was then too quiet for even for this time of

night.

Their eyes wider than the collective surprise

of an Annual Astonishments Convention, the

cowering animals stared at the pile of inert beasts,

leaving the cat to mutter, “A simple no would have

sufficed.”

With one next to him adding, “Clearly they’d

already met your mother.”

Through smoke, Letherin appeared. Panting,

he held a shovel in his paws and his robes

glistened with the soggy bits of beast traditionally

found internally. Treading across the slain mass,

he stood upon its summit, the blaze framing him in

shimmer.

The cowering animals swallowed, before one

asked, “Do you perhaps require a hotel?”

“Or indeed some curry?” offered another.

“Though you certainly don’t have to meet my

mother.”

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8

Letherin ignored them and stepped from the

steaming mound, ensuring the beasts were

rendered incapable of wreaking any more havoc.

The animals stared at him, bewildered.

“Their journey had been long,” he growled,

pulling his hood down to hide his face. “They

were tired. And in dire need of sleep.”

“Aha,” the cat said. “So they were looking for

a hotel.”

“They can’t have been,” another said.

“There’s one over there, look. But they set fire to

it. You don’t set fire to hotels if you want to stay

in one, surely.”

“Perhaps they didn’t like the decor,” the first

suggested.

“Yes, but my point is that they didn’t have to

burn it down. They could have just gone to another

hotel.”

“Unless they really loathed it.”

“It probably depends on how tired they

were.”

“They weren’t tired enough to not set fire to

it.”

“Or perhaps they were too tired to not set fire

With Eyes No Longer Blind

9

to it.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Did you?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, anyway, they did set fire to it.”

“Yes, which suggests just how tired they

were.”

The animals nodded, finding some sense in

the explanation.

Letherin ignored them and inspected the slain

beasts again, kicking at a severed bit to ensure it

didn’t move of its own accord.

“But what about their bits?” the cat asked

him, peering at a soggy bit lying in the gutter.

“Won’t they be needing those in the morning? I

mean, they can hardly have breakfast if their bits

are all over the place.”

Letherin growled. Exhausted, he would not

discuss the matter further. Despite having slashed

three monsters to pieces, he had other concerns.

“Have you heard how your palace has fared this

night?”

The animals looked at each other while the

crumpled one stirred underneath.

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10

“The palace?” the cat replied. “I have no idea.

Certainly I’ve nothing that it has been harmed.

Mind you, we’d only just begun to flee ourselves. I

was cooking curry, you see. A nice one, too. And

was desperate to wait until the very last minute

before fleeing because I didn’t want it to burn.

Which is ironic considering my house is currently

a blazing inferno.”

“They arrived so quickly this time,” another

said. “Without any warning. They just appeared.

Indeed, we didn’t even have time to take our

spoons.”

And they peered at the shovel Letherin held.

“That’s an awfully big spoon,” the cat

observed. “You were fortunate to have had sense

enough to take it.”

Letherin glanced at it. Bits of slain creature

slid down the handle, blood and gristle glistening

in the firelight. Sickened, he hid it behind him

before stepping toward them.

He was big and strong and taller than them

all.

Mind you, they still sat on the one rescued—

which was becoming difficult when he wriggled

With Eyes No Longer Blind

11

beneath them indignantly. Relieving him of their

bottoms, they helped the animal up and dusted him

down. Composures returned, the cat was about to

say something regarding the shovel again, when

several animals appeared carrying buckets of

water which they sloshed onto flames. More

joined them until an efficient bucket brigade had

formed.

“I say,” the crumpled one said to those who’d

sat on him, “thanks awfully for your help. I really

don’t know what happened.” He peered then at the

pile of slain beasts. “And judging by the state

those creatures are in, I don’t think they do either.

Were they looking for a hotel, perhaps?”

The others murmured that they’d been

wondering the same, before again peering at

Letherin with his hood and massive spoon.

“May we inquire,” the cat began, “as to what

it was you actually did to put them to sleep? I

mean it was very good, obviously. And

unanimously appreciated, I’m sure. But I don’t

think any of us are entirely sure what it entailed.

I’m presuming it had something to do with your

enormous spoon?”

Thomas Corfield

12

But Letherin had no intention of explaining.

“Go home,” he growled, turning to leave. “Go

home to your curry.”

“It’ll be burnt now.”

But Letherin staggered away through smoke

and cinder.

The cat called after him, “It’s just that next

time they arrive we might have a better idea of

what to do if you told us what you did, rather than

leaving us to simply offer curries? Because my

feeling is they weren’t really into curries.”

“Or hotels,” another said.

“Or hotels, indeed.”

Another then wondered, “Do you think the

hotel perhaps offered them a curry?”

“Would you perhaps like to join us?” the cat

called further. “My curry might be salvageable,

considering I took it off the stove before my house

exploded.”

“You can bring your enormous spoon if you

like,” another encouraged.

But Letherin had already disappeared into

shadow.

He had to.

With Eyes No Longer Blind

13

Because he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Thomas Corfield

14

____________________

IN a large stone hall, animals worked in silence.

Cloaked in black, they wrote frantically upon

paper. Attention on their task was absolute. None

dared raise their head, or hesitate in scribble.

Huddled over tables, they scribed words in a

frenzy at the expense of legibility. In the scratched

silence, the air sang with a high note of tension, a

whining that pierced wall, air and skull.

It was why they wrote so feverishly.

They were being watched.

Occasionally, an animal would stand and

hurry with paper to the rear of the hall. Upon a

large stone altar, the page’s scrawlings would be

copied into typography using stone letters. Once

done, the paper would then be crumpled up and

eaten, afterwhich the animal would brace himself

With Eyes No Longer Blind

15

against the altar and recite the words. Gripping the

stone, his posture would suggest that having eaten

the paper, there was an immediate need to excrete

it. But should the recital conjure nothing, the

animal would tremble in relief and return to his

desk, whereupon another piece of paper would be

scribbled upon.

Amidst all this, no animal dared glance at

another.

Nor did they speak.

All cowered beneath that high pitched whine

of scrutiny.

When an animal left for the altar, there’d be

fretful glimpses at an empty throne ahead. While it

remained vacant, to a degree they were safe—

providing they continued writing, didn’t glance at

each other or successfully pooh paper.

A cat who’d been scribbling furiously,

stopped and stared at what he’d composed. His

breathing became shallow, and a heat of despair

flooded him. The piercing whine bore into his

head, a scrutiny that bruised his skull. Trembling,

he stood and hurried between his colleagues’ desks

to hall’s rear. With knees so shaky he may as well

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16

have left him behind, he placed his paper upon the

altar and scrabbled with pieces of stone across its

surface. Ready then, the cat took his paper,

scrunched it up and stuffed it into his mouth. It

was dry and scratchy, and did little more than

afford retches and gags. Nevertheless, when

eventually swallowed, he recited the words and

braced himself for nasty things to happen.

Which they did.

There was a flash, the altar spat stone and the

cat was hurled across the hall. Smashing into

desks, he slid along the floor to flounder amongst

them. In a chorus of fright, his colleagues fought

to get away from him. But their scrabbling

withered when the omnipresent whine grew

louder, leaving them to stare in horror at the

throne. There was a sound of whipping wire which

had them duck instinctively, and then cover their

eyes when the hall surged in light. When it died,

so did the whine, and a large dark dog sat upon the

throne. Bulbs fizzled and spat, and sparks burst

from metal.

Every animal froze.

The arrival watched them with a steeled gaze,

With Eyes No Longer Blind

17

glaring at each in turn. He sat casually, but with an

intention absolute. And despite the throne having

been vacant for days, he resided upon it as though

he’d been doing so all along. He said nothing, but

stood in a sweep of robes, leaving his audience to

wither still further.

“Who was responsible?” the dog said.

None dared reply.

The question was repeated.

Helped to his paws by colleagues, the cat was

encouraged to surrender and forced to raise a paw.

The arrival turned upon him with a gaze

pummelling. “What verse have you found, cat?”

The cat tried words, but they came out

strangely, as though he’d two tongues entwined.

The cat was pressed toward the throne.

With a sneer, the arrival said, “Do you truly

speak in tongues, cat? Or merely pretend to?”

Horrified, the cat shook his head, before

realising doing so might confirm the dog’s

suspicions. So he nodded instead, and then worried

that did the same. He made some garbled noises

and his eyes went wide. Although he was a gifted

poet, he was bereft of words—which was

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18

surprising considering he’d just swallowed some

pretty significant ones.

The arrival stepped closer, eyed him and said,

“Then we shall see what you have found, shall we

not?”

The audience retreated still further.

“Let us see whether you have honoured us, or

whether I am to inform the Ar'dath-Irr that a poet

has stumbled across little more than mist and

spark?”

The cat trembled and sagged, fear closing his

throat to breath.

The arrival strode to the still smoking altar,

indifferent to the bursts of sparks still skittling

from it. Turning to his horrified colleagues, the cat

pleaded in silence, but knew they could do nothing

to help. In despair, the cat followed the dog, his

limbs barely able. The arrival stepped to the altar

and raised his robe covered paws. Shaking them,

the sleeves fell back.

“Stand beside me, cat,” he ordered.

With whimpers, the cat struggled to, climbing

the steps with knees no longer worthy of title.

Racked with silent sobs, he shook beside the dog,

With Eyes No Longer Blind

19

who remained with paws raised.

He flicked them once.

Then twice.

And then turned them inwards.

Another flash, and the world skittled

sideways. Animals lurched in spin as wall blurred

into floor, into table, into throne and altar. The

nausea was overwhelming and most succumbed.

When the blurring lessened, all were left giddy,

teetering against each other and retching.

All, that is, except two.

For the dog and cat no longer remained.

In the confusion that followed, the poets

lurched back to their tables, dragging them back

into position and righting chairs—before

scrabbling again for paper to continue as they had

been. Two of them hurried to the cat’s desk and

groped through scattered papers until paws came

across one in particular: the cat had managed a

copy before leaving his desk. When the high

pitched whine began again, the two poets glanced

at the throne. Rolling up the parchment, one hid it

beneath his cloak, before both hurried back to their

desks.

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20

____________________

“HUSH now and sleep,

I am here.

Close those tired eyes,

I am here.

The night is warm,

I am here.

While the world turns,

And I am here.

Be still—”

Lyeia clutched at wet rock and waited with

eyes screwed shut. As she had many times before,

With Eyes No Longer Blind

21

she begged to return to a world far less

frightening—despite being worth nothing in it.

She clung.

Amidst ferns.

And between crags of rock.

But her pleas withered, not wanting to return

to see Oscar crushed into pavement.

So she sobbed.

Trapped between reality and madness, she

was cornered in fright.

And then the voices began.

In the distance, their screams arose.

Choking on sobs, she sang her mother’s

lullaby.

“Hush now and sleep

I am here—”

The screams got closer, drowning her words.

Fear strangled her breath: this time, she

would remain here.

This time, she would be torn apart.

Just as Oscar had been.

And of this, she was deserving.

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22

The screams grew louder.

Resigned, she pressed her nose into wet earth

and wept. Shuddering in sob, its rich scent was

then overwhelming.

She blinked through tears.

And frowned at the stone she clutched.

And then at the tangles of root she’d

dislodged.

She looked at her soil-caked paws and

watched dirt fall when she wriggled them.

Why would her madness conjure such detail?

She looked up at ferns crowding the narrow

crevice. Beyond them, green-grey cloud passed,

suggesting the forest was thick enough to colour

both land and sky.

It was cold, too.

Such particular detail.

Being insane-of-the-mind might render terror,

but surely not an entire world to perform it in.

When the voices grew louder, their shrieks echoed

off mountainside. With puzzlement winning over

dread, she peered from her nook. The dark had

lessened: perhaps dawn had broken. Leaves

continued to rain, the path now swamped in

With Eyes No Longer Blind

23

muddy pages. Beyond it, a valley fell away in

mist. Above her, the mountain rose steeply, thick

with fern and tree, giving the impression that the

world was vertical.

Screams split the air, and with paws upon her

ears she fought panic. When they were almost

upon her, she thought of Oscar and everything

they’d been through. Resilience flared and she

readied to face what she’d spent a lifetime

avoiding.

A horde of animals appeared.

And then scurried past in flee.

Lyeia stared at them, astonished to realise

their screams were not because they wished to flay

her, so much as something wished to flay them.

They fled in panic.

There were lots of them.

And oddly, they waved spoons.

In fact, there was nothing threatening about

them at all.

Which left her stunned that after a lifetime of

avoidance, they were about as frightening as an

overtly enthusiastic hiking club.

They wore nice jumpers, too.

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24

And what’s more, clearly liked spoons.

Bemused, she stepped from her nook and

watched them pass.

But then she was spotted.

By a dog who stopped.

Those behind him didn’t, however, which

resulted in a pile-up that had their screaming

tumble into a swathe of apologies. After the dog

assured them he was fine, the others recommenced

their screaming and ploughed through the leaves

after the others.

The dog blinked at her, before hurrying over

and waving his spoon frantically. She stared at it,

and then him, having no idea what to do with it—

which is odd, considering it was a spoon. When

his waving became a desperate semaphore, she

took it. Relieved, he took a deep breath and then

screamed. When she stumbled backwards, the dog

turned to scarper after those already absconded.

For some time, Lyeia sat in her nook and

looked at the spoon, struggling to come to terms

with a lifetime of fear having revolved around no

more than an unconventional cutlery acquisition.

It was definitely a spoon.

With Eyes No Longer Blind

25

An ordinary, everyday spoon.

Which was ironic considering she’d acquired

it in circumstances quite the opposite.

She chinked it against stone. There was

nothing peculiar about it at all, and appeared quite

capable of coping with most demanding spoon-

related tasks. Indeed, the only explanation she

could muster for them waving the things was in

response to some particularly dreadful soup.

Poking her head from the crevice, she hoped

for something resembling explanation.

A chef, for example. With a horrid, flaky skin

disease.

But there was nothing of the sort.

So she looked at the spoon again.

But it offered even less of an idea than she.

The leaves had stopped falling, but had

buried the path completely. Amidst them, she then

sat, realising the last time she’d brandished cutlery

was when trying to insert forks into Oscar.

Which left her sobbing again.

She wailed at the low clouds, her cries

echoing off a shape of world she knew nothing of.

With lethargic stabs through leaves, she dug the

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26

spoon at the earth to punish the world for its

invention of suffering. She then lay amongst wet

leaves and stared at the swirling grey above. She

closed her eyes, her body bruised with loss,

knowing that in a world left behind, Oscar did the

same.

And then his voice arose.

“Well, I hope you have something resembling

explanation,” Oscar said. “Because I must admit to

having none whatsoever.”

At first, Lyeia thought it imagination,

understandable considering it was likely to be

responsible for all of this—and probably for the

latter part of book four, for that matter. She kept

her eyes closed, however, preferring illusion to

despair.

“Can you hear me, Lyeia? I said I hope you

have something resembling explanation to all this,

because I certainly don’t.”

Amidst a joy wretched, she smiled.

Which annoyed Oscar.

He’d had enough bizarre behaviour for one

day, and was not keen on getting another bout of it

from a clinically insane dog who lay in leaves,

With Eyes No Longer Blind

27

smiling inanely and clutching spoons.

So he said as much.

And because this was not the sort of thing

Lyeia expected her imagination to come up with,

she opened her eyes.

Silhouetted against clouds, Oscar Teabag-

Dooven glared down at her. With paws upon hips,

his stance was one of having had quite enough for

one day.

“Oscar?” she cried, flailing through leaves in

an attempt to get a better view. “Oscar? Is it really

you?”

On four paws she stared up at him, worried

that any further move might have him disappear

into mist.

He glared at her with a what-on-earth-do-

you-think expression, followed by an I-am-clearly-

waiting-and-have-already-asked-twice sort of

expression. Trembling, Lyeia stood and swiped at

tears.

“I thought you were dead!” she cried.

She lunged at him, clutching him with a

snugness one might expect from a particularly

well-made collar. Sobbing in gutted relief, she

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28

refused to let him go, even when he began

suffocating—an irony not lost upon him.

But Lyeia was having none of it.

It no longer mattered.

Oscar was here.

Her friend.

Her only friend.

Which did seem odd, considering he’d just

been run over by an ambulance. Relinquishing

him, Oscar stumbled backwards in dire need of air.

“Really! I thought you were dead!”

Oscar coughed amidst frantic pulls at his

collar, unable to reply.

“Why aren’t you dead!”

He then doubled over.

“Are you sure you’re not dead?”

Oscar continued as he had.

“You’re dead aren’t you!” she realised.

“You’re dead and I’m having an episode within an

episode!” She shook her head. “I should have

known; you’re a figment. You’re a figment of my

imagination and you’re dead!”

Having recovered, he stared at her. It had

been bad enough dealing with the latter chapters of

With Eyes No Longer Blind

29

the previous book, but to then find himself cast

upon some mountainside with a dog, who was by

her own admission, even more insane than she’d

been previously, did little to fill him with

encouragement. “I think,” he said, “that is quite

possibly the single most insulting thing I have ever

heard.”

“You’re dead,” she continued, ignoring him,

“I saw it happen. Right in front of me. You’re

dead. It’s as simple as that. I saw you get mashed

into the pavement by a very large ambulance.”

“And that’s not very nice either.”

Lyeia shrugged. “What does it matter? This is

all made up. You’re dead. You’re not real. None

of this is. This is my screwed up mind having

decided to really let its fur down and come up with

the most insane episode of insanity I have ever had

the misfortune to experience!”

“Lyeia—”

“Shut up, figment!” She hit her paws upon

her head then. “I am so stupid! I should have

known! How can this be anything other than total

immersion into psychosis? After all these years of

struggle, it’s actually happened; I am now

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30

irretrievably insane-of-the-mind. There’s no way

back. This is it; welcome to insanity, Lyeia.

You’re here to stay!”

Oscar stared at her.

“I just watched you die!” she swore. “You got

run over by an ambulance! Do you have any idea

what that’s like?”

“Well, yes, considering—”

“It was horrible. Just awful. There was

nothing good about it at all. And witnessing it has

clearly pushed me over the edge.” She turned from

him, waving her paws as detail fell into place. “I

understand now: all these years of punching

animals in the face, and not speaking to any

creature for longer than twenty minutes, was an

unconscious means of prevention! To preserve the

small bit of sanity keeping me free of this place!”

Oscar blinked at her, surprised she’d found an

explanation, and hoped his would soon be

forthcoming.

Turning to him again, there was nothing of

her prior affection. “This is your fault!”

“What?!”

“Yes. Your getting run over has pushed me

With Eyes No Longer Blind

31

over the edge! I am here because of you! Thank

you so much! Thanks very much indeed!”

Oscar sighed and looked across the valley,

not knowing where to start. He’d begun this

conversation hoping Lyeia might offer

explanation. And she had. Just a ridiculous one.

Which wasn’t her fault. She was after all, insane-

of-the-mind. But, judging by this chapter, so was

he.

He turned to her. “Is insanity contagious?”

“What?”

“Insanity. Is it contagious perhaps?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t think

so.”

“It’s just that insanity might be my

explanation as well. Remember in the library you

said you were about to have one of your turns, and

I said I think I’m about to join you?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I think you are possibly so deeply

disturbed, Lyeia, that I am now clinically insane as

well.”

“You must be joking!”

“No, I’m serious. Think about it; how on

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32

earth did I come to be here when I’ve just been run

over?”

“You didn’t. You’re dead.”

“I’m insane, Lyeia. Not dead. There’s a

difference. You of all animals should know that.”

“You’re dead, Oscar.”

“I can assure you I am not.”

“You must be.”

“I think I’d know.”

“How?” she asked. “You’re dead. You can’t

know anything when you’re dead.”

“No, but I can if I’m insane.”

“I still think you’re dead.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m telling you, Oscar, you are dead. I saw

you get run over. We all did.”

Oscar frowned in thought. “But I don’t feel

dead.”

“Well, you must be. You were in pretty bad

shape before being run over, and I dread to think

of the shape you were in afterwards.”

“Do I look dead?”

With Eyes No Longer Blind

33

She peered at him. He didn’t look dead at all.

In fact, she’d never seen him so smart. He even

wore a splendid pair of fresh pantaloons. And his

fur was no longer grubby or singed, but instead

beautifully white and fluffy. He wore a smart blue

collar as well. With a bell.

“You don’t look dead,” she admitted. “In

fact, you look wonderful.”

Oscar humphed. “If I don’t look dead, and I

don’t feel dead, then I don’t think I am dead. I am

certain however, that I am now quite insane.”

“I’m sorry, Oscar, but you’re just a figment

of my imagination. You’re here as a coping

mechanism.”

“A coping mechanism?”

“Yes. To manage my immersion into full-

blown psychosis.”

“Well, that’s strange, because I don’t feel like

a coping mechanism either. I do, however, feel

completely insane-of-the-mind.”

Regardless, Lyeia realised she was no longer

alone, and lunged at him a second time. Holding

him tight, she refused to let him go even when he

again insisted upon air—which inadvertently went

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34

some way to proving he wasn’t dead.

“Welcome to my world, Oscar,” she said,

when relinquishing him.

He nodded, coughed and pulled at his collar

again.

“Are you quite certain you’re not dead?”

Sighing, Oscar shrugged and sat down in the

leaves. “I don’t know. One minute I was extremely

sore in Liebe, and the next I’m standing on the

side of a mountain without a bruise upon me.” He

shrugged. “Perhaps I am dead and you’re a

figment of my imagination?”

But Lyeia shook her head. “I’m not dead,

Oscar. And this place is not new to me. I have

been here many times before. And anyway, I

didn’t get run over by an ambulance.”

“I don’t actually remember the ambulance.

And I feel remarkably well for an animal whose

apparently been run over by one.”

Lyeia sat next to him. “Well, it must be one

or the other. Either you’re dead or insane. I can’t

really help you with the former, but certainly have

ample experience with the latter.”

“Perhaps I was already going mad, but just

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35

wasn’t aware of it,” he wondered. “I’ve had some

pretty strange experiences in corridors recently.

And hearing paws bereft of owners. And seeing

horrible monsters. And fighting animals that

disappear—”

“I saw then too, remember?”

“Yes, but you’re already mad. Perhaps I was

merely in the process of becoming insane. It really

wouldn’t surprise me, actually. I’ve dealt with a

fair bit of absurdity over the past four novels.

Perhaps meeting you has pushed me over the

edge.”

“Perhaps we’ve both gone over the edge

together.”

They sat for a while.

“So where are we?” Oscar asked.

And Lyeia shrugged while playing her spoon

through leaves. “I have no idea. Which is odd

considering I’ve been here many times before. It is

both familiar and unfamiliar. Though whenever

I’ve arrived previously I’ve never remained long

enough to find out. There were always screams

encroaching upon me. In as much, I often woke up

in a mess of my own making.”

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36

“I sometimes have the same trouble on bath

night.”

She looked at him puzzled. “With screams?”

“No. A mess of my own—look it doesn’t

matter. Why have you got a spoon?”

Lyeia peered at it. “It was given to me.”

“By who?”

“One of the animals screaming past me in

flee.”

Oscar blinked at her.

“You didn’t see them?” she asked.

Oscar shook his head.

“They just careered past me on this path,

screaming and waving spoons around.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. To some degree

I’m not surprised. My being mad has me accepting

a great deal of peculiarities. Not the least of which

is a horde of hysterical animals in colourful

jumpers offering cutlery.”

“But why hysterical?”

She shrugged again.

Oscar turned back to the view. “Being insane

sounds exhausting.”

With Eyes No Longer Blind

37

“It’s not that difficult, really. Just don’t

question anything and smile a great deal.”

He looked at her. “But you don’t smile,

Lyeia. You punch animals in the face.”

“Yes, but I’ve had a lifetime of insanity,

Oscar. My bitterness is earnt. You, however, have

just been born into it.”

“But why a spoon?”

“Just accept it, Oscar. Don’t question it.”

“Yes, but why were they screaming?”

“Again, just accept—”

But he couldn’t, and stood in frustration. “I

can’t just accept it, Lyeia! I don’t know where I

am! And where’s the Loud Purr? He was here a

moment ago! And Binklemitre? And the Great

Library of Liebe for goodness sake?” He pointed

across the valley. “It was there a moment ago!

Right there! I know it was there because we’d just

fled the place! Now there’s nothing resembling

Liebe here whatsoever! Just a great big valley

shrouded in mist, which, when one thinks about it,

is almost the complete opposite of a library!” He

glared at her. “Where is the city of Liebe, Lyeia?

Where have you put it?”

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38

“Me? I haven’t put it anywhere.”

“Then where is it?”

She sighed and shrugged in accepting that it

was gone.

“Don’t you think it strange to say the least?”

he implored, paws in the air. “Insane or not, surely

you must acknowledge the question as to where on

earth—literally—we actually are?”

But she didn’t, and looked at him instead.

“Welcome to my world,” she said, before digging

at leaves again.

####