The Book of Night With Moon by Diane Duane

said, with longing.
    "I mean after that…. We could go down to the Oyster Bar and romance the window lady."
    Rhiow flicked an ear in mild exasperation, wondering how Urruah could think of any food, even oysters, when surrounded by a smell like this. But they were a passion of his. Occasionally Rhiow had secretly followed Urruah down to the restaurant's pedestrian-service window after finishing work, and had seen him stand there in line with the other commuters— provoking much amused comment— and then wheedle bluepoints out of one of the window staff, a big broad blond lady, by force of purr alone. For her own part, Rhiow would never have done something so high-profile in the terminal itself. But Urruah had no shame, and Rhiow had long since given up trying to teach him any.
    "Window's not open on Sunday," Saash said. "Do you ever think about anything but your stomach?"
    "I sure do. Just the night before last there was this little ginger number, with these big green eyes, and she—"
    Saash sat down in a clean spot behind a signal and started having herself a good scratch, yawning the while. "Urruah, you've obviously mistaken me for someone who's even slightly interested in your nightly exploits."
    " Au, it's not your fault," Urruah said magnanimously. "You can't help not taking an interest, poor thing: you're ffeih, after all."
    Rhiow smiled slightly: she had given up trying to teach Urruah tact too. But there was no arguing the statement, on either Saash's part or her own. Before her wizardry, while still very young with her ehhif, Hhuha had taken Rhiow to the vet's and unqueened her. Saash had had this happen, too, so long ago that she couldn't even remember it. Being ffeih did free you from certain inconvenient urges; sometimes Rhiow wondered how still-queened wizards managed when heat and an assignment coincided. "Still," Rhiow said, "Saash has a point. Till tomorrow, it's MhHonalh's or nothing for you, my kit."
    "Worth waiting for," Urruah said, unconcerned, still ambling along. He paused, peering down. "Here, you missed one, Saash. Iau's sweet name, but these things are getting big this year—"
    He broke off. "Rhiow? This isn't a rat."
    The alarm in his voice made Rhiow's heart jump. She hurried over and stood with him to stare down unhappily at the small sodden heap of fur and limbs lying on the rail. Sometimes you ran into them down here, People who were sick or careless, and ran afoul of the trains: there was nothing much you could do but send their bodies on and wish them well in their next life. So young, she thought sadly: this catling could hardly have been out of his 'tweens, still kittenish and not yet old enough to worry about sex.
    "Poor kit," Saash said. "I wonder—"
    He moved. A gasp, a heave of his chest, a kick of one leg. Another heave of breath.
    "I don't believe it," Rhiow said. She bent down and gave his head a lick. He tasted foul, of cinder and train fumes as well as rat blood. She breathed breaths with him: the scent/taste was hurt and sick, yes, but not dead yet.
    And someone said in her head, Rhiow? Are you free?
    It was a voice she knew, and one she had expected to hear from, but not right this minute. The others heard it, too, from their expressions.
    Urruah made a wry face. "The Area Advisory," he said. "I guess we should be honored."
    "We got that shut," Saash said, flicking an ear at the gate. "We're honored.— You go on, Rhi. We'll see to this one… and I'll start those deep diagnostics. I've checked all four gates' logs now. The other three are answering properly: no effect on them from this event. One thing, though. The log weave on this one is blank. No transits or accesses showing since the midnight archive-and-purge of the log."
    Rhiow blinked at that and started to demand explanations, but Saash turned away to the catling. "Ask me later."
    Rhiow jumped up onto the platform. "Next train's at seven oh four," she said, looking over her shoulder at them.
    Urruah gave her a