The creature called Raif was hiding beneath the bed. It had been hiding underneath the bed ever since Henry’s entrance some significant time earlier, and its presence had been, apparently, forgotten. It was thankful for this fact. That was the point of hiding.
Anyway, it had hid when Henry had come in, and it had been observing through the dimness for quite a while now. It had watched as Henry had come in with a sword. It had watched as Seymour and the Smallish-Seoc-Being had been bound up in rose vines, and it had listened as Henry had made threatening noises, and it noticed that Henry’s actions caused the Smallish-Seoc-Being to make a puddle on the floor.
Now it watched as a thin, blond-haired man, led the Mage-Man, MacQuarrie, into the room to subdue Henry. Henry, however, did not seem to need subduing. He had been sitting on the bed for the past few minutes, crying.
Crying, Raif had noticed, seemed to be Henry’s default reaction to life.
“Henry,” the Mage-Man said in an unpleasant voice. “Why did you do this?”
Henry did not answer. The thin blond man sat down on the bed beside him and whispered things that Raif could not decipher, while the Mage-Man began to pace the floor, holding a burning blue ball of light in his hand.
“Henry,” he began again.
Seymour, who was still bound up in briers, interrupted him. “If you don’t mind, sir!”
“Right,” the Mage-Man sighed. He snapped his fingers at the vines, which crumbled to dust and drifted lazily to the ground, after which point he promptly turned back to interrogate Henry.
Unfortunately, this was also the point at which he stepped in the puddle.
“What is this?”
No one answered. Raif gathered that this was because the puddle had been left by the Smallish-Seoc-Being, and the Smallish-Seoc-Being had not been supposed to be in the room. Raif gathered this from the thin blond man’s thoughts. The thin blond man’s thoughts were loud and easy to read, even without seeing his face.
The Mage-Man lowered his nose to the ground to investigate the nature of the puddle and made a noise of disgust upon recognizing the odor. “Who pissed on the floor?”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, during which Raif distinctly heard the thin blond man think, Get out of my head, fleabag. It’s crowded enough in here.
Raif’s name not Fleabag, Raif thought back at him.
“It must have been the dog,” said the thin blond man, then, Sorry, Raif, old chap. By the way, Simon’s name not Thin Blond Man.
“Dog?” the Mage-Man demanded. “What dog?”
“The dog that’s hiding under the bed,” Simon answered. “I think it’s named Raif.”