Fleming is a Beagle of no club, made of patience, snacks, and an excellent sense of where the wind has been. There is a small notebook Fleming carries, half theories about the Soft Hill and half crumbs. At the door marked K N L, lookouts say Fleming can sense weather changes before the clouds commit to one. Whatever else changes, Fleming means to be one of the names answered for when the corridor lights flicker over the flooded market halls.