"Well, of course, if I'm right, and the locks depend on certain conditions, well, we could be here for years..." he ventured. "Supposing they can only be opened by, say, a small blond child holding a mouse? On a Tuesday? In the rain?"

"You can find out what the nature of the spell is?" said Teatime.

"Yes, yes, of course, yes." Sideney waved his hands urgently. "That's how I worked out this one. Reverse thaumaturgy, yes, certainly. Er. In time."

"We have lots of time," said Teatime.

"Perhaps a little little more time than that," Sideney quavered. "The processes are very, very, very...difficult." more time than that," Sideney quavered. "The processes are very, very, very...difficult."

"Oh dear. If it's too much for you, you've only got to say," said Teatime.

"No!" Sideney yipped, and then managed to get some self-control. "No. No. No, I can...I'm sure I shall work them out soon-"

"Jolly good," said Teatime. good," said Teatime.

The student wizard looked down. A wisp of vapor oozed from the crack between the doors.

"Do you know what's in here, Mister Teatime?"

"No."

"Ah. Right." Sideney stared mournfully at the fourth lock. It was amazing how much you remembered when someone like Teatime was around.

He gave him a nervous look. "There's not going to be any more violent deaths, are there?" he said. "I just can't stand stand the sight of violent deaths!" the sight of violent deaths!"

Teatime put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry worry," he said. "I'm on your your side. A violent death is the last thing that'll happen to you." side. A violent death is the last thing that'll happen to you."

"Mister Teatime?"

He turned. Medium Dave stepped onto the landing.

"Someone else is in the tower," he said. "They've got Catseye. I don't know how. I've got Peachy watching the stairs and I ain't sure where Chickenwire is."

Teatime looked back to Sideney, who started prodding at the fourth lock again in a feverish attempt not to die.

"Why are you telling me? I thought I was paying you big strong men a lot of money to deal with this sort of thing."

Medium Dave's lips framed some words, but when he spoke he said, "All right, but what are we up against here? Eh? Old Man Trouble or the bogeyman or what?"

Teatime sighed.

"Some of the Tooth Fairy's employees, I a.s.sume," he said.

"Not if they're like the ones that were here," said Medium Dave. "They were just civilians. It looks like the ground opened and swallowed Catseye up." He thought about this. "I mean the ceiling," he corrected himself. A horrible image had just pa.s.sed across his under-used imagination.

Teatime walked across to the stairwell and looked down. Far below, the pile of teeth looked like a white circle.

"And the girl's gone," said Medium Dave.

"Really? I thought I said she should be killed."

Medium Dave hesitated. The boys had been brought up by Ma Lilywhite to be respectful to women as delicate and fragile creatures, and were soundly thrashed if disrespectful tendencies were perceived by Ma's incredibly sensitive radar. And it was truly incredibly sensitive. Ma could hear what you were doing three rooms away, a terrible thing for a growing lad.

That sort of thing leaves a mark. Ma Lilywhite certainly could. As for the others, they had no objections in practice to the disposal of anyone who got between them and large sums of money, but there was a general unspoken resentment at being told by Teatime to kill someone just because he had no further use for them. It wasn't that it was unprofessional. Only a.s.sa.s.sins thought like that. It was just that there were things you did do, and things you didn't do. And this was one of the things you didn't do.

"We thought...well, you never know..."

"She wasn't necessary," said Teatime. "Few people are."

Sideney thumbed hurriedly through his notebooks.

"Anyway, the place is a maze-" Medium Dave said.

"Sadly, this is so," said Teatime. "But I am sure they will be able to find us. It's probably too much to hope that they intend something heroic."

Violet and the oh G.o.d hurried down the stairs.

"Do you know how to get back?" said Violet.

"Don't you?"

"I think there's a...a kind of soft place. If you walk at it knowing it's there you go through through."

"You know where it is?"

"No! I've never been here before! They had a bag on my head when we came! All I ever did was take the teeth from under the pillows!" Violet started to sob. "You just get this list and about five minutes' training and they even dock you ten pence a week for the ladder and I know I made that mistake with little William Rubin but they should of said said, you're supposed supposed to take any teeth you-" to take any teeth you-"

"Er...mistake?" said Bilious, trying to get her to hurry.

"Just because he slept with his head under the pillow but they give you the pliers anyway anyway and no one told and no one told me me that you shouldn't-" that you shouldn't-"

She certainly did did have a pleasant voice, Bilious told himself. It was just that in a funny way it grated, too. It was like listening to a talking flute. have a pleasant voice, Bilious told himself. It was just that in a funny way it grated, too. It was like listening to a talking flute.

"I think we'd just better get outside," he said. "In case they hear us," he hinted.

"What sort of G.o.dding do you do?" said Violet.

"Er...oh, I...this and that...I...er..." Bilious tried to think through the pounding headache. And then he had one of those ideas, the kind that only sound good after a lot of alcohol. Someone else may have drunk the drinks, but he managed to snag the idea.

"I'm actually self-employed," he said, as brightly as he could manage.

"How can you be a self-employed G.o.d?"

"Ah, well, you see, if any other G.o.d wants, perhaps, you know, a holiday or something, I cover for them. Yes. That's what I do."

Unwisely, in the circ.u.mstances, he let his inventiveness impress him.

"Oh, yes. I'm very busy. Rushed off my feet. They're always employing me. You've no idea. They don't think twice about pushing off for a month as a big white bull or a swan or something and it's always, 'Oh, Bilious, old chap, just take care of things while I'm away, will you? Answer the prayers and so on.' I hardly get a minute to myself but of course you can't turn down work these days."

Violet was round-eyed with fascination.

"And are you covering for anyone right now?" she asked.

"Um, yes...the G.o.d of Hangovers, actually..."

"A G.o.d of Hangovers? How awful!"

Bilious looked down at his stained and wretched toga.

"I suppose it is..." he mumbled.

"You're not very good at it."

"You don't have to tell me."

"You're more cut out to be one of the important G.o.ds," said Violet, admiringly. "I can just see you as Io or Fate or one of those."

Bilious stared at her with his mouth open.

"I could tell at once you weren't right," she went on. "Not for some horrible little G.o.d. You could even be Offler with calves like yours."

"Could I? I mean...oh, yes. Sometimes. Of course, I have to wear fangs-"

And then someone was holding a sword to his throat.

"What's this?" said Chickenwire. "Lover's Lane?"

"You leave him alone, you!" shouted Violet. "He's a G.o.d! You'll be really sorry!"

Bilious swallowed, but very gently. It was a sharp sword.

"A G.o.d, eh?" said Chickenwire. "What of?"

Bilious tried to swallow again.

"Oh, bit o' this, bit o' that," he mumbled.

"Cor," said Chickenwire. "Well, I'm impressed. I can see I'm going to have to be dead careful here, eh? Don't want you smiting me with thunderbolts, do I? Puts a crimp in the day, that sort of thing-"

Bilious didn't dare move his head. But out of the corner of his eye he was sure he could see shadows moving very fast across the walls.

"Dear me, out of thunderbolts, are we?" Chickenwire sneered. "Well, y'know, I've never-"

There was a creak.

Chickenwire's face was a few inches from Bilious. The oh G.o.d saw his expression change.

The man's eyes rolled. His lips said "...nur..."

Bilious risked stepping back. Chickenwire's sword didn't move. He stood there, trembling slightly, like a man who wants to turn round to see what's behind him but doesn't dare to in case he does.

As far as Bilious was concerned, it had just been a creak.

He looked up at the thing on the landing above.

"Who put that there?" said Violet.

It was just a wardrobe. Dark oak, a bit of fancy woodwork glued on in an effort to disguise the undisguisable fact that it was just an upright box. It was a wardrobe.

"You didn't, you know, try to cast a thunderbolt and go on a few letters too many?" she went on.

"Huh?" said Bilious, looking from the stricken man to the wardrobe. It was so ordinary it was...odd.

"I mean, thunderbolts begin with T and wardrobes..."

Violet's lips moved silently. Part of Bilious thought: I'm attracted to a girl who actually has to shut down all other brain functions in order to think about the order of the letters of the alphabet. On the other hand, she's she's attracted to someone who's wearing a toga that looks as though a family of weasels have had a party in it, so maybe I'll stop this thought right here. attracted to someone who's wearing a toga that looks as though a family of weasels have had a party in it, so maybe I'll stop this thought right here.

But the major part of his brain thought: why's this man making little bubbling noises? It's just a wardrobe wardrobe, for my sake!

"No, no," mumbled Chickenwire. "I don't wanna wanna!"

The sword clanged on the floor.

He took a step backward up the stairs, but very slowly, as if he was doing it despite every effort his muscles could muster.

"Don't want to what?" said Violet.

Chickenwire spun round. Bilious had never seen that happen before. People turned round quickly, yes, but Chickenwire just revolved as if some giant hand had been placed on his head and twisted a hundred and eighty degrees.

"No. No. No," Chickenwire whined. "No."

He tottered up the steps.

"You got to help me," he whispered.

"What's the matter?" said Bilious. "It's just a wardrobe, isn't it? It's for putting all your old clothes in so that there's no room for your new new clothes." clothes."

The doors of the wardrobe swung open.

Chickenwire managed to thrust out his arms and grab the sides and, for a moment, he stood quite still.

Then he was pulled into the wardrobe in one sudden movement and the doors slammed shut.

The little bra.s.s key turned in the lock with a click.