"So, you know, once the High Council finally came to realise what a cesspit of crime and corruption this city had descended into, naturally I was their number one pick to clean it up."

"Grrrerff."

"Yeah, yeah." Fluttering beside Blompo as he stomped along the pavement, Barderim gave the huge creature's bulging bicep a pat. "And obviously you were number two, big guy."

"Hang on," wheezed Slash, from his position tucked under the troll's left arm, with Hobe squeezed in alongside him. "You expect us to believe the High Council actually gives enough of a toss about the welfare of the citizens of Quollo to spend public money—money they could otherwise be embezzling or using for bribes or just downright stealing—on employing a bunch of people whose sole job is to uphold the law?"

"That's what I'm telling you, Slashman. Although, you know, when you say 'bunch of people', it's actually just me and Blompo, for now. We've got big plans, though, let me tell you. Huge. And, well, we're also still kind of working out the whole 'law' thing. Sketching out the finer details, you might say. You know, as in, like, what exactly is a law? For instance, what am I gonna charge you perps with? Excessive leaping? Gratuitous swordplay with intent to cause bodily harm? Performance without a license? Lewd behaviour? Public unconsciousness? The list is endless, and to tell you the truth, just a bit confusing.

"When the Manticores were in charge, it was dead easy—they'd just decree this or decree that and the palace guard would pop off and behead whoever needed beheading or maybe chuck 'em in the dungeon or whack 'em up on a rack or whatever and everyone went home happy. These days, nobody's decreeing anything much and it's all gone a bit blungo-shaped, so we've had to work it out for ourselves. I got some books out from the Great Library on the legal systems of other kingdoms, but what with being in charge of keeping the entire city in line, and this and that and the other, I've been a bit short of time, so I delegated the task of judicial research and the whole formulating a legal code thing to Blompo. By the way, how's all that coming along, Big B?"

"Mehrrgh."

"Right. Well, keep me posted. Anyhoo, the bottom line is, irrespective of those minor technical challenges, we're now one hundred percent onto the job of keeping the public safe by ensuring the criminal underworld of Quollo toes the line. Once we sort out where that line is, of course."

"One hundred percent?" gasped Carri, who was wedged under the troll's right arm, alongside the still unconscious and ragdoll-like Wonda. "Public Safety? That's not what I heard. I heard the bagmen bringing Lord Napallucci his cut from the illegal bookies down at the Arena got mugged once too often, so he hit up the High Council to do something about it. But then all the other lords and ladies with under-the-table sidelines of their own complained that if his racket got to have protection from non-High Council sanctioned criminals, then theirs should too. And once they'd all agreed on that, Lady Kay piped up and said that since the public purse was paying for all this protection, she'd veto the whole thing unless the public got a bit of it as well." She gave Barderim a pointed (and slightly blue-faced) look. "Sound about right, Mr Hundred Percent?"

The fairy's features took on a look of elaborate nonchalance. "Hey, what can I say?" he said airily. "Crime is crime. The law is blind. We don't discriminate in the pursuit of justice. Anyway, I reckon little Miss Unofficial here is just a bit sore because victims of crime used to have nowhere to go except to amateurs like her, but now they can bring their cases to us. You now, once they recognise our professionalism, our skill and our, you know, officialness."

"And that you work for free," said Carri. "I'm pretty sure that's what they recognise most. And no doubt they'll come crawling back once they realise you get what you pay for."

"Not to mention there's only two of you," added Hobe. He spoke in his normal gruff voice, the dwarven ribcage being sufficiently sturdy to resist even compression by troll. "You guys must be pretty bloody busy trying to cover a whole city's worth of crime. To be looking out for both the toffs and the common folk."

"Yeah," conceded Barderim, "we are a tad stretched at the moment, I must admit. What with only having been inaugurated a couple of months back and the dangerous and frankly uncooperative attitudes of much of the criminal element, and potential recruits proving to be just a bit...well, reluctant, once we explain the nature of the job to them, and so on, it has been a mite hectic. I've added a recruitment drive to Blompo's to-do list, but there are only so many hours in the big guy's day. Anyway, at the moment it's all about prioritisation, so naturally when a concerned citizen reported suspicious artistic activity in a local alley, we got right onto it. 'Blompo,' I said, 'those highly armed gangs running amok in the Downside will just have to wait. There's illicit dwarf dancing to sort out.' And, so, here we are. With four arrests added to our tally and four more dangerous criminals removed from society."

"Dangerous criminals?" Slash wriggled in a valiant but completely ineffective attempt to free himself from the troll's vice-like grip. "Barderim, you know me. I'm a bloody dragon, same as you used to be. You know perfectly well I'm not a criminal. And neither are these other two."

"Ah," replied the fairy, "but that's just what criminals would say, isn't it? Although I don't see your goblin friend saying anything in her defence."

"She's bloody unconscious!" exclaimed Carri in a hoarse shout. "She's not about to say anything."

"Oh, right, sure. Unconscious, you say. How convenient. Ha! You don't fool me that easily. Nope, it's down to the station with you lot, so I can charge you all with...well, something, and lock you up and then...um, work out what happens after that. Say, I don't suppose any of you lot have heard of this thing called due process? I'm sure I read about that somewhere."

Slash thought furiously. They really didn't have time for this. If Hirschnopple was desperate enough to have sent a League acolyte after them, who knew what was coming next? Being stuck in whatever passed for Barderim's idea of a dungeon was likely to be bad for both their quest and their health. He needed to get them out this situation and he needed to do it fast.

It was clear reasoning was a waste of breath he didn't have to spare. And that pleading the importance of their quest was a bust, given the fairy only owed his newfound authority to the absence of the Manticores—so the last thing he'd want would be to have one of them back in charge. No, it seemed a different approach was called for. An approach that would take advantage of the smug little bastard's currently somewhat elastic perceptions of right and wrong, not to mention the love of glory and recognition Slash remembered so well.

"You know what? Fair enough," he said, in as casual an asthmatic wheeze he could manage. "We can't deny it. You got us cold. We were up to no good in that alley."

"What?" demanded Hobe. "No we blood—"

"Yep," interrupted Slash, digging an unseen elbow into the dwarf's midriff. "No point denying it. None at all. Zip, zero, zilch. Your razor-sharp law enforcement nous has us dead to rights." Fortunately it seemed Carri had the wherewithal to keep quiet without the need for any such encouragement.

"Damn straight," said Barderim, with a vaguely suspicious look. "Glad to hear you feel that way, 'cause we're almost at the station. Well, when I say 'station', it's actually the old Stains'R'Us Laundromat. But you'd hardly know it these days. You'd be surprised what one troll with a hammer, a can of polish and a winning attitude can achieve. You should the gleam he's got on the wringers. But it's good to know we're not going to have any of that plausible deniability or presumed innocence or we-was-framed-guv nonsense. Makes it much easier for all of us."

"Oh yeah, no question," agreed Slash. "The thing is, there might be a bit of a complication. See, our goblin friend, as you call her, isn't really our friend. She's actually a League acolyte."

"She's a what? Bloody hell!" Pale-faced, the fairy zoomed around to put Slash, Hobe and much as Blompo as he could manage between himself and Wonda. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so. And look, I won't bore you with the details, but the gist of it is, the nefarious activities were up to in that alley all went a bit tits-up, and now the goblin wants us dead. As I'm sure you can appreciate, that's not ideal for us. So, I've got a proposition for you."

While there was no longer anything vague about Barderim's look of suspicion, he said, "I'm listening."

"The way I see it," said Slash, "you've got two options. First option is, you charge the goblin with any and all of the crimes you and Blompo can come up with, but you let us three go scot-free." At the look of outrage on the fairy's face, he held up a hand to forestall his protests. "On the condition, of course, we act as witnesses, and also back up the story that you single-handedly busted and brought in a lethal and highly dangerous assassin. That way, the real criminal gets locked up, we chastened petty offenders get a second chance at an honest life after having been taught a valuable lesson by an upstanding officer of the law and, most importantly, everyone hails you for the hero you so clearly are."

"Heergh."

"Sorry, sorry. Everyone hails you and Blompo as heroes."

Barderim's suspicious expression faded, to be replaced by a dreamy look and the beginnings of a beatific smile. "And option two?"

"Oh, that's easy. Option two is you try to charge us all, we deny anything and everything, the whole thing gets tied up in legal knots, and you wind up on the wrong side of a pissed-off master assassin, a dwarf who can take out a League acolyte with nothing but his knuckles and some dance moves, an elf who makes her living skulking in dark alleys and quite often sticking sharp things in people, and"—he gave Barderim a wink—"a former fellow dragon who wasn't really asleep in the tent that night back in basic training, when you had your little indiscretion with the gnome in the strap-on wings."

Barderim's eyes widened. "You wouldn't," he breathed.

"Maybe not," replied Slash. "But there's one way to make sure."

For a moment longer the fairy stared at him—and then, his features cracking into a grin, flew down to give the dragon's chin a playful uppercut. "You've got a deal, Slashmeister. And you know what? With negotiating skills and barefaced bravado like that, you're wasted in the Dragons. When you decide it's time to stop playing soldiers and get a real job, come and see us."

"Us?" Slash smiled at the absurdity of the proposal. To not be a dragon? While the lustre of the role might have long since worn off, he simply wouldn't know how to be anything else. "And who exactly is 'us', Bards? What do you even call this law enforcement...force of yours?"

"You know," replied the fairy, "I've been giving that some thought." He scratched his chin. "I mean, if you think about it, basically there are laws that need policing, and we're the force who police those laws that need policing. So, really, there's only one logical choice as to what to call us."

"Pointless?" suggested Carri.

Barderim ignored her. "My friends, in the dashing forms of me and my second-in-command—"

"Braarghh!"

"Whoops, I mean me and my partner, you are looking at Irmway's very first..."

Hobe stifled a yawn. "Can we go yet?"

The fairy shot him a dirty look. "Irmway's very first..."

"Um," interrupted Slash, very badly in need of a decent breath and wishing he'd never even asked, "police force?"

"What?" Barderim looked at him puzzlement. "Ew, who ever heard of a lame-arse name like that? No, as I was saying, together, Blompo and me, we comprise"—the fairy beamed down proudly at his captive audience—"the Law Squad!"