From the waist up, I made a concerted effort to appear calm and cool, while under the table my knees were jingling like loose change. Ofelia was the first to show up. The rest tumbled in behind her while I sat at my place with my hands grasping the table so as not to fall into the growing pit in my stomach. Grim and Hulda were the last two to arrive; both wore an air of solemnity. Hulda got right down to business, calling for roll, at which we were all accounted for. “Before we proceed,” Hulda said, rising from her chair, “let me assure my sister Storks that an account of last night’s incident has been dispatched to the World Council.” This was a group that took its bird-watching seriously, and, much like lifting the cover on a manhole, a rush of steam in the form of remarks and exclamations shot forth. I overheard more than one mention of Dorit, our expelled member, as well as a hushed “enemy still in our midst” response. That one, I feared, was eerily on the mark. “Order, please.”
