A live band are playing in the club; music pounces on people, dragging them to the dancefloor, Sig throwing down his legendary moves with an Elf female who has a chihuahua in her bag, while Anya dances with an Elf male, and Indigo stands beside them on the dancefloor drinking a pint of water.

"How old are you?" Sig shouts to his dance partner over the music, the dancefloor gloating with light.

"Twenty-two," she answers.

Sig nods. "Twenty-two – which is the same as my age..." Everyone looks at him sceptically, including the chihuahua, "...used to be.

Katisse, a thin-looking Elf who looks even thinner and more haggard since Sig adopted him as his "apprentice" during his stay in Tyria, comes over with the drinks. Sig had sent him to the busy bar almost an hour before. The Dwarf takes his pint of whiskey and downs it in one, placing his hand confidingly on the Elf's back as he leads him to the side to talk.

Sig indicates the Elven female. "I've met a nice woman..."

Katisse looks genuinely thrilled. "That's brilliant, Sig—" Sig holds up a finger to correct him. "—That's brilliant, master." Sig nods in approval and smiles.

"Now, your master needs another drink for the young lady...how do you feel about standing in the queue for another hour?"

"Well, my doctor said I should avoid—"

"Pissing me off? Great!" Sig puts some money in the Elf's hand and waves him off. "Here, buy yourself something too."

As he moves off, Katisse checks the money in his hand. "But this isn't even enough for one drink—"

Sig laughs it off. "Get out of here, you scamp!"

Anya approaches Sig. "I'm not sure that outfit was a great idea," she says, indicating Sig's belly hanging out of his bondage-cop ensemble. "You look like an advert for gravity."

"Hey!" Sig argues. "I've received a lot of sexual advances while wearing this...some of them from women!

"It's good to see you've found someone nice," Anya smiles, indicating the Elf female.

"It's pointless," Sig shakes his head. "She's got goodness coming out of her ears and I've got badness dripping out of my—"

"Thank you!" Anya quickly leaves before Sig can complete the thought and resumes dancing with her partner.

Indigo sidles up to Sig. "I'm not sure about this...'getting myself out there' thing."

"You'll be fine!" Sig encourages. "The peacock only shows his finest feathers during the mating ritual."

"...Is that true?"

"No idea – but it sounds like the kind of thing that might be true. And if there's one thing more important than the truth, it's convenience." He claps Indigo on the back and indicates the Elf female. "Wish me luck. I hope it goes better than my last sexual experience..."

*

Sig is in a woman's bedroom, having sex doggy-style over a bedside table. He stops suddenly. "Are you feeling alright?" he asks.

"I just find it hard to relax," she replies, over her shoulder.

He smiles patiently and places a hand on her back. "It's okay. You just need to live in the moment."

"That's what I keep telling her," A toothless old woman sitting in bed beside the table agrees, a book and a set of false teeth in her lap.

"Who is that, anyway?" Sig asks the younger woman.

"Oh, that's just Nana," she smiles. "Don't let her bother you."

"It's just...she hasn't broken eye contact the entire time I've been fucking you. And, what really disturbs me, is neither have I."

The young woman laughs. "Just carry on."

Sig looks at Nana, who's still staring him out, shrugs his shoulders and resumes pounding doggy-style. After a short time, he grunts and stops.

"What's wrong?" the young woman asks.

"...Nana just stuck her finger up my arsehole."

*

"...Why did you tell me that story? Indigo asks.

"I had to tell somebody. Part of me thinks it was pretty fucked up—"

"Oh, it's definitely that."

"I don't know how I get myself into these situations."

"You actively search for the situations and then get into them."

"...Oh yeah. Thanks, Indigo." Sig puts his arm affectionately around Indigo. "You're like my shaman-cum-psychologist. And, trust me, I would know – I once saw a shaman cum on a psychologist. We'll talk later. I need to get some of the more fucked-up confessions off my chest." Sig wanders off happily and Indigo takes a sip of his water, staring off into the distance.

"...I feel my suffering has only just begun."

Intercepting Katisse as he's returning with the drinks, Sig carries them over as if he's just queued for ages to get them. The Elven female smiles and rubs his cheek warmly as he hands hers over. "Oh, thank you! Are you the perfect guy or what? I bet you're a really tender lover too."

Sig snorts into his pint. "You wish! I'm actually a total fuck-tyrant!"

*

It's late at night, and Indulkar and Squad walk through the quiet corridors of Tyria's parliament, its endless corridors like mirrors framed in darkness, the echoes a continual composite whisper of movement.

"Is Salazar the only one who could want you dead?" Squad asks.

Indulkar smiles, the effect reaching his eyes, and Squad sees why people will follow him through anything, drowning doubts in those wise depths. "I've made many enemies over the years, but Salazar remains the most dangerous. He is the Emperor of Night and the leader of 42 million of my compatriots but, as Prime Minister of Tyria and his grandson, I am a threat to his rule."

"Yeah, but you've been a threat for thirty thousand years. Why now?"

Stopping suddenly, Indulkar turns to the spectre.

"Perhaps he has something planned."

*

The border patrol officer runs a hand through his thick hair, which curls like the fur of a black goat, and checks the manifest again. He's worked on the docks of Tyria City for two thousand years, so he knows the job by now, but he's still surprised by this mysterious ship from the Far East which has just docked, seemingly without a crew. A massive metal box, like a cage without bars, dominates the centre of the ship. He summoned security officials straight away and is waiting for them.

A voice touches his spine with a wash of coldness.

"I see you've found my cargo, officer."

The officer turns and sees Gelson Musk, leader of the mega conglomerate Paradigm Research, emerging from the quilting dark wearing an equally dark suit. He's clearly been waiting for this ship and walks straight past the officer, resting a hand on the cold metal container as if he's patting the nose of an animal. The container is several times larger than a man and much wider; several elephants could fit inside comfortably.

The officer feels the ungainly thumping of his heart and gets an eery feeling. The container lurches violently, as if something inside senses Musk's presence – though it would have to be incredibly powerful to move such a massive vessel.

The heavy footsteps of one of the dock's security teams can be heard boarding the ship and the officer turns to see half a dozen of his fellows, armed to the teeth. Three of them direct long spears at Musk's back as he touches the container, two others aim bows at him and the last has magic ready to deploy.

Musk turns and looks at them, a smile curling his lips. "How unfortunate."

*

A bodyguard approaches Indulkar and whispers something, the Elven leader turning to Squad. "A ghost ship from the Far East docked a short time ago, and seven of our customs agents have just been found cut to pieces onboard."

"It seems like too much of a coincidence, that there's this threat against you and now this," Squad says.

"Whatever it is, it's here now," Indulkar replies.

"You must change your schedule," Squad insists. "Go into protective isolation and wait until we find and neutralise this threat."

A shake of Indulkar's mighty head. "I won't go into hiding because of an assassination threat: if our leaders were forced to do that, they would spend their whole lives in hiding. You have to trust your officials and carry on with business as usual. Do you have the team to handle this?"

"They're ready for anything," Squad confidently declares.

*

Sig is lying helplessly in the street, singing and doing a one-man vertical conga to the heavens. "Do-do-do! Come on and do the conga! Do-do-do—"

"You're drunk!" Anya shouts, falling on the ground beside Sig, one of her shoes missing.

"You're drunk too!" Sig replies, equally loud.

"Only technically," Anya giggles.

"That's quite a technicality!" Sig smiles. They look at each other, exploding into laughter for no reason.

While they're both still on the ground, Anya leans in and whispers. "Sig, can I tell you something?"

"You could, but I'm losing consciousness...if I stop screaming in my sleep, just restart my heart."

"It's been bothering me for a while now," Anya continues. When she sees Sig about to say something, she places a hand on his chest to stop him. "Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh!" she insists. "Let me tell you. Back up north, when we were seeing things from the past, Squad and I saw that the father of Indigo and I was...is Lord Scipio."

On his back and giggling, Sig puts fingernails up to his mouth as if he's biting them and repeatedly kicks the air in excitement. "Oh my daayyyyyyyyyssss!"

"I know!" Anya laughs. "That's why I've been drinking with you more often!"

"I thought it was because of my alluring scent," Sig titters.

They look at each other and burst out laughing. "Squad already knows, but you can't tell Indigo yet, because I don't know how he'll take it."

Sig is laughing unstoppably. "Oh nooooooooo!"

A window opens and a random man's voice calls out. "CAN YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN? I'M NOT WEARING ANY CLOTHES IN HERE!"

"Sorry, pervert," Sig shouts.

Indigo, who's been drinking water all evening and has been taking a refreshing stroll ahead of his companions, returns. "I hope you two have learned a valuable lesson about drinking," he turns to Sig, "and gambling..."

*

Sig is at the poker table, totally wasted. "I raise you a woman's shoe!" he says, slamming a piece of woman's footwear onto the table.

The tough-looking gentleman sitting opposite him snarls, his mouth opening like a slash in leather. "This is it for you, Sig! I'm going to take every penny you have – including the ones you've hidden in your anus."

Sig growls in a tough-guy voice. "No, you won't – I can clench, really, really hard!"

*

Still on the floor, Sig smiles like a schoolboy. "I didn't win – but at least I didn't learn any valuable moral lessons."

Helping Anya up, Indigo says, "Come on," and turns to help Sig, but the Dwarf jumps up and runs off.

"I'm hungry!" Sig yells and disappears around a corner.

"Come back!" Anya laughs.

There's the sound of breaking glass and Sig remerges holding a huge, wedding-style cake on a silver platter.

"Leg it!" he shouts, shooting past the other two, who sprint to keep up.

"You can't just steal things!" Indigo explains.

Sig nods sagely, still running, the cake jiggling beside his head. "It's true, you're not supposed to do that – but I was bored. My ethics exam to join the police force asked: 'Can stealing ever be justified?'"

"What did you write?" Anya responds.

"No idea – I just copied my neighbour's answer. We passed—I mean, I passed."

A short time later, they're safely back in Gaia.

"It was daylight robbery, anyway," Sig explains, putting the cake down on a table. "They were charging a thousand pounds for a cake!"

"Who would pay a thousand pounds for a cake?"

"In this case, quite literally no one," Sig laughs, rubbing his face in the cake and pulling it out with icing all over his beard and cheeks. He licks some of the cake off his face, looking impressed. "It's nice, though."

"Let me try," says Anya, leaning forward and scooping some cream off Sig's beard, trying it. "Oh, that is nice!"

"Get your own beard-cake!"

"You don't even like cake. I've never heard you mention cake once."

"The best times of my life have been spent alone, laughing through mouthfuls of cake," Sig protests.

"Were you reading a funny book?"

"No. I was just alone...laughing through mouthfuls of cake."

*

Mazer watches from the back of the small stage as Lu speaks to the room full of children, perhaps over a hundred, and their eyes gleam answering galaxies as he looks out over them. Some of the children are clearly drug addicts, their old doll's faces having seen too much, but others are innocent, green as spring lettuces.

Mazer watches closely because he's expecting an attack ever since he killed that drug dealer who was selling drugs to children and, to add to his problems, Lu has been preaching against the dealers and their bosses. It's what she's doing now, in fact. At the back of the room, a man with short black hair and the look of a fighter has attracted Mazer's suspicion, because he's clearly armed under his coat; most likely with twin knives, according to Mazer's expert eye.

New thorns of awareness prick at the Scrovengi's senses, drawing his attention here and there. From just behind the front row, a man stands and charges at the stage, sword drawn.

"Quivermass sends his regards," the man yells; a knife glistens like a claw and, without warning, the attacker plummets to the floor, dead, a knife lodged in the back of his neck before he can reach the stage. Children run and scream, loosing anarchy in the room.

Mazer, who was going to intercept him anyway, looks up as the knife-wielding stranger, who just killed the attacker with a fantastic distance throw, walks up and pulls his knife from the man's neck. Cleaning it on the dead man's clothes, he approaches Lu and Mazer, stopping as the Scrovengi steps protectively in front of the girl.

"I'm Steven Shryke," he says. "And that," he indicates the dead man, "was one of John Quivermass's assassins. You've painted a large target on your own back."

"And why are you concerned about that?" Mazer asks, guarded.

Shryke sheathes his weapons. "Because I don't want to see little girls getting killed in my city."

Mazer smiles. "The way I understand it, this is Quivermass's city."

"Not for long."

From behind Mazer, Lu speaks to her guardian, challenging Shryke with her eyes. "Don't trust him. He's a drug dealer."

"But I don't deal to children," Shryke counters, raising his eyebrows like a mace. He looks at Mazer again. "We can be allies, you and I. We have things in common – enemies mostly." Shryke hands Mazer a card, adding. "I have a feeling you can't, or won't, leave the Undercity but, if you want to stay, you'll have to act against Quivermass before he tries to take you out again. Contact me before that happens and I can put your skills to good use."

Without another word, Shryke turns and leaves, Mazer watching him all the way.

*

On the dark streets, Shryke talks to Arkady, his Roenan second in command. "It was a shame what happened to Harwood."

"Perhaps you didn't have to kill him."

"It had to look real," Shryke argues. "He has to believe Quivermass is actually after the girl and that he should ally with us to destroy him; that Scrovengi is some fighter, I could tell with one look."

A tiny golden dart shoots at him out of her fine black eyes. "And what if he decides to target us too?"

"No one's crazy enough to fight both sides in this war."

*

"You can't trust that man," Lu tells Mazer.

"I know," Mazer responds, checking the pockets of the dead man.

"Then what are you going to do?"

Finding nothing in the dead man's pockets, Mazer stands and looks out on the dark city, illuminated by many signs and attractions. He reads the card in his hand. "I'm going to take out Quivermass, but I'm also going to take out this Steven Shryke."

A compact, baleful light in his eyes burns through the dark, glittering and digesting.

***

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