Marmalade Copperwhisker shuffled his deck of cards and grinned at the crowd. Forty people had gathered around his spot today, more than ever before. This was it. This was how he'd become the most famous talking cat in the merchant district. He fanned the cards with a flourish and opened his mouth to start his routine. But a merchant pushed forward with a weathered duffel bag. "Tell my fortune, cat. I'll pay double." The man dumped the bag at Marmalade's paws. Gold coins spilled across the cobblestones in front of the stone lioness statue. Marmalade reached for a coin to bite it, test its weight, make a joke about the merchant's generosity. His paw touched the leather strap. The gemstone at his throat blazed hot. The merchant district dissolved into swirling stars and impossible distances. Three-eyed vendors hawked glowing fish in markets that bent sideways. Mathematical formulas carved themselves into his vision in symbols he'd never seen. The whispers roared into screams. Marmalade tried to crack wise, tried to turn it into part of the act, but his jaw locked. His legs trembled. The forty faces stared as he collapsed against the bag, twitching. When the visions finally released him, silence filled the square. No one laughed. No one clapped. They just watched him with wide eyes as he panted against the coins. The merchant grabbed his bag and backed away. Marmalade stood on shaking legs and forced his best showman's bow, but half the crowd had already turned to leave. The tavern owner leaning in the doorway of the three-story building across the square just shook his head. Fame, Marmalade realized, came in more flavors than he'd planned for.