At the Queen_s command

Though the dissection did not thrill Owen, it kept Vlad busy. He would cut open a portion of the tail, make sketches of what he saw, then weigh flesh and bone before separating them. He noted that fish did not take the wurmflesh for bait and that birds seem reluctant to pick at it. Based on tracks they found the next morning, neither wolverine nor bear had difficulty eating the meat, and by the second day a family of raccoons waited in the woods for that day's dissection to end.

Vlad did make some interesting discoveries. In one of the tail bones he found an old arrowhead entirely encrusted with bone. "I checked Mugwump's history and in 1162, at the battle of Verindan, an arrow penetrated his tail. They could not dig it out, so they snapped it off."

Nathaniel and Baker took the wurmskin and set about cleaning and tanning it. The fact that Vlad was able to discover a variety of new things appeared to keep his anxiety at bay, and this made the waiting more endurable.

Princess Gisella did her best to make everyone feel at ease, especially Catherine. Owen's wife had taken to bed for two days after the rough coach ride from Temperance. Gisella waited upon her as if a servant. Owen apologized profusely to her Highness, but Gisella simply smiled and promised to care for her as Owen was caring for Mugwump.

On the third day, the Prince came to relieve Owen. "I believe, Captain, I know why this molt is different from others."

"Yes, Highness?"

"Mugwump made the cocoon very quickly-in less than five hours. That requires a great deal of energy. Mugwump does many things differently from wurms on Norisle or the Continent. He consumes a variety of flora and fauna that are unknown on the other side of the ocean. I am certain that has contributed to his health and his colors being so bright. But he's been doing that for fifty years, without this sort of molt. So I looked for something else, some way he might have gotten access to energy."

The Prince's expression tightened. "I think it comes down to his eating pasmortes."

Owen's eyes narrowed. "You're suggesting he consumed the magickal energy in them?"

"It's just a theory and yet, when du Malphias destroyed the magick, Mugwump vomited back corpses and showed no more interest in anything that had been pasmorte. He stored that energy up and then when back here, in his lair, feeling safe, he entered a molt."

For the next week and a half things settled into a routine. Owen, the Prince, and Baker divided the day into three watches. One of them was with Mugwump at all times, with Dunsby and Count von Metternin helping out as needed. Nathaniel hunted and fished, as well as continued to process the wurmleather and bones, happy with the distance between himself and the cocoon.

On the twenty-fifth of September, surprise visitors arrived on the river. Msitazi, still wearing Owen's jacket, accompanied by Kamiskwa and William, beached the canoe. After greetings and introductions-Msitazi doing Owen the great honor of offering to buy Catherine, that being an honor his wife neither understood or liked-William fetched a package from the canoe. Unwrapping it, he proudly bore one of the wurmscales filled with a small fortune of salt mixed with bear grease into a thick paste.

The Prince accepted the gift. "What is this?"

Msitazi chuckled. "It is for Mugwump. It is to celebrate his birth."

"I fear I don't understand, Chief Msitazi."

The older man dispatched William to fetch one of the scales from the wurm's tail. The chief squatted and planted the scale on the ground upside down. The inside shined with a wavy mineral rainbow akin to mother of pearl. The Altashee oriented the attachment point toward the north.

Msitazi pointed to a dark dot near the southern edge of the scale. "This marks his birth." His finger traveled over to the western side of the scale and tapped a small, thorn-like projection. "This is his nativity bump. When the sun sets, and its shadow touches the dot, it is his day of birth."

"I find your idea intriguing, sir, but the date of Mugwump's hatching was in April, many centuries ago."

The Altashee chuckled. "You are born once of your mother, and again born a man. If a man is lucky, he is again born into wisdom. If this is true of men, why is it not true of Mugwump?"

Vlad ran a hand over his jaw. "When?"

"Soon. Very soon."

"Then we shall have to be ready." Vlad looked over at Owen. "Though how we prepare for the birthing of a wurm, I have no idea."

After the evening's dinner, Owen found Catherine standing on the balcony overlooking the lawn. Below, the Altashee had constructed a domed hut and sat around a small campfire in front of it. Nathaniel sat with his son and the four of them all laughed.

He slipped his arms around her and kissed her neck. "You should come down, Catherine. They tell very good stories."

"No. You can go."

"Not without you."

"I know you want to go, Owen. I know you'd rather be with them."