The Grave Goods of the Worm King
an excerpt

“What do you think, Jameson?” asked Lara.

He looked up absently. “She’s about to get herself into more trouble than she has any idea how to handle,” he said, and blinked. “Droppings! I wish that would stop happening.”

“What? Is it the prescience thing?”

He sighed. “Yeah. People keep asking me questions and then I’ll answer and say something I didn’t know before they just asked me. It’s really pretty disturbing.”
“So is Martya going to be all right?” asked Flinders anxiously. “If she’s getting into trouble, I mean?”
“Um,” said Jameson, glaring at his emptied plate. “I don’t know. It’s gone away again, damn it. Ask me something else.”
“Why is Martya about to be in trouble?” asked Dave. “Does it have to do with her case?”
“Yes, but I knew that before. I think she said too much and the wrong person got nervous about it. That’s no help. Try again.”

“Why are there Cheshire City police coming into the restaurant?” asked Lara in a worried voice.

“Droppings!” exclaimed Jameson. “They’re about to arrest me. I knew it wasn’t going to be a good evening.” He concentrated, paws over his face for a moment as the others stared from him to the tall officers who were still speaking to the waitress. Then he said urgently, “The Sosle-Mice sent them over Detective Martya’s head. Tell her that she has to move now, or Trismegistus’s diversion will work and no one will believe the truth when they hear it. She needs to trust both Babbage and August. And tell Babbage they’re going to rig the arena.”

Lara and Flinders exchanged a scared glance. “Got it,” said Lara, and then a tall rat was walking up to the table behind them.

“Is one of you the rodent known as Jameson Vole?” he asked officially, as they all looked up at him, trying to moderate their expressions and the scents of their concern.

“I am,” said Jameson. “Do you need me for something?”

“We are detaining you under suspicion of malediction and possible murder,” said the officer. “Please come with us. It would be much better if you don’t attempt to struggle.”

Jameson looked at the rat who was more than twice his length with some irony. “Can you cover my tab, Dave?” he asked, getting up, “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. Oh, and I think your betting pool owes Lara a round of drinks.”

They looked after him anxiously as he and the rats disappeared into the night. “Drinks?” asked Flinders. The other two shook their heads. They shook off their bewilderment and paid the bill, leaving as fast as possible. It was only on the way back to the hotel that they realized none of them had any way to contact Detective Martya.