Aldric Fumblewick, wizard, wanted two weeks by the sea. He came back to a centaur in his kitchen, a phoenix reading his mail, a mer-person in his bathtub, and a filed-in-triplicate explanation for all of it. While the Fumblewicks were on their belated honeymoon - fishing, reading, arguing pleasantly with Pelgrave's sofa - a thaumic incident in the Dragon Quarter displaced three interspecies couples who needed immediate fireproof accommodation. Aldric's apartment, thanks to the tiles he installed in Book 3 and the second nursery he retrofitted for Pyrra, is the only residence in Castellmere rated for both sustained dragon-temperature habitation and small-dragon supervision. Dame Copperpot filed the emergency OSSRE authorisation herself. From a procedural standpoint, she notes, it was flawless. The apartment is now home to Torren the centaur (unable to turn around in the corridor), his dryad wife (rooted where they live), Wick the phoenix and his accountant husband Ambrose (whose fire insurance requires its own filing cabinet), and Tallis in the bathtub (dating a librarian, needs the humidity). Grimsby has claimed the highest shelf and refuses to descend. Pyrra, four years old and fluent in ceremonial Draconic, is running an unauthorised species-integration programme from behind the sofa. And someone in the High Council of Dragons is quietly using the Fumblewick precedent as ammunition in a fight Aldric didn't know he'd started. Book 6 of the Fumblewick Chronicles. Warm, dry, sitcom-forward, and - three times, precisely - genuinely tender. For readers of Terry Pratchett, T. Kingfisher, Travis Baldree, and anyone who has ever tried to argue with tiles.
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