"Physiognomist Cley, welcome back to the City. The Master awaits your arrival," she said.

I nodded to her and smiled, but she was only the first to greet me. People I didn't even know stopped me in the lobby to wish me well. Behind their smiles and open palms, I knew there had been an order from above requiring affability. I stayed calm until I had nodded to everyone and then took the elevator up to the tenth floor. When the doors opened and I entered the long hallway that led to Below's office, I was astonished to see that it was lined on both sides with the blue static forms of hardened heroes from Anamasobia. Among them I spotted Arden, holding his mirror. On my left, Beaton leaned in a static pose into the aisle, the fingers of his hand slightly parted, proffering his invisible message.

When I entered his office, the Master was sitting behind his desk, a flat, smooth piece of quartz the length of the coach that had brought me. There were stacks of paperwork on it, which he was in the process of throwing into the blazing fireplace behind him.

"Cley, welcome," he said, nodding for me to take the seat across the desk from him. "I don't think I'll ever get through this paperwork. It is the bane of the Master."

He threw a few more stacks in and then turned, folded his hands on the desk, and stared into my eyes. I returned his stare for as long as I could and then looked away toward the miniature replica of the City that sat on a table in the corner.

"I see you have brought back souvenirs from the territory," I said, pointing over my shoulder toward the hallway.

"The territory, the territory, the people can't get enough of it. The papers are filled with tales of the territory. I've made a fortune on the few things I was able to bring back. Demon horns are selling for seven hundred belows apiece. I disseminated the lie that when taken in its powdered form it would induce week-long erections and orgasms that would leave one washed up at the gates of paradise." He laughed. "Some fun for the people."

"I wanted to thank you personally for my pardon," I said, trying to seem as cowed as possible.

"Well, Cley," he said, leaning back, "I missed you. You were always so damned conscientious. The memory of you riding next to me in my cart, bespattering your trousers over the consequences of your crimes against the realm, made me feel . . . shall we say, like a father who has lost touch with an errant son."

"Master, you honor me with the analogy," I said.

His eyes darted back and forth beneath that one contiguous hedge of eyebrow as if he were unsure whether he had gone too far. "How was Doralice?" he asked.

"Well, I met your old war companions, Matters and Matters," I said.

"Oh, those two. Fuck them, the monkey runs the show on that island," he said. "What did you think of the monkey?"

"Silencio. He was remarkable," I said.

"One of mine," said Below and clapped for himself.

"I also came to the conclusion that I had sinned and that it was just punishment for me to bake in the mines," I told him.

"Very well then," he said, and began manipulating the fingers of both hands in front of me. I knew that one of his parlor tricks was to follow, and, sure enough, the yellow flower I had been wearing was now cupped in his palms.

I looked down at my lapel to find it empty. "Miraculous," I said.

He nodded in agreement with me. "Listen, Cley, I can't have you come back to the City and not have some work for you. I know you love your work. I've got a new project for you."

"Will I be employing the Physiognomy?" I asked.

"Your rank has already been reinstated. I need someone of your intensity to carry out this special mission I have. You see, I noticed while wandering through the streets in disguise the other day that my divine creation, this amazing metropolis, was getting too crowded. Believe it or not, I heard rumblings of unhappiness from the citizenry. When I looked closely at these malcontents, I began to notice that their physiognomies were less than sterling. Many of their faces could have passed for the rear ends of animals. So I began to devise a plan to thin out the population."

"I am at your service," I said.

"I knew you would respond with fortitude," he said. "What I want you to do is round up ten people a day, read them all, find the ones with the least favorable visages, and send their names to me. In ten days, we will bring these people in and have them eradicated. My plan is that we hold public executions in Memorial Park. We'll see how much grumbling there is afterward."

"A splendid plan," I told him.

"The word is out that you have full power to detain and read any subjects you see fit with the exception of my personal staff. Remember those idiots who prosecuted you? They are open to investigation, if you see what I mean," he said, laughing. "In any event, I want ten warm bodies in ten days, but it is important for you to read as many as you can. I want these investigations to touch as many people's lives as possible."

"Understood," I said. "I will proceed immediately."

He was not ready to let me go just yet, though. He brought out two vials of the beauty. I wanted to decline, but I could see that it was a test of my loyalty. The Master went for the vein in his tongue.

"It's my special mix," he slurred as he pulled the needle out of his mouth.

We sat there for an hour in the throes of the beauty, and he did card tricks and sleight of hand with coins. Below's special mix was certainly special. I couldn't move. The graceful motion of his hands as he performed was hypnotic. Pigeons, fire, a tiny man fashioned from his earwax did somersaults across the tabfe. Finally, it all came so fast and furiously, I thought I was going to pass out. Then he jumped out of his seat, came around the table, and ushered me toward the door.

"Tonight, Cley," he said, "I have arranged for a dinner in your honor. I want them all to kiss your ass for a night. It was a shame that I allowed them to talk me into sending you away."

"As you wish," I said.

"You'll need this to get in," he said and put one of the coins he had been performing with into my palm.

I said good-bye and walked down the hall of hardened heroes. Once outside, I stopped on a bench and tried to catch my breath. Not even on Doralice had I perspired so much. That batch of the beauty had given me the worst case of chills I had ever experienced. In addition to this, my nerves were frayed by the immensity of the future.

Eventually, I pulled myself together by walking around one of the outside malls. In a temporary ring, at the center of the walkway, there was a battle match taking place between two of the Master's hardware-enhanced citizens. I tried not to pay any attention to the brutality, but at that time of day the mall was relatively empty. There was only a young mother and her two daughters present.

When my breathing had returned to normal, I turned my attention to the contest in the ring. One of the fighters had snapping metallic claws for hands and a set of steel corkscrews protruding from his head. The other fellow whirred and clanked with the noise of his defective inner workings, but he was very large. There were crude skin grafts across his neck and chest. He had no odd features save for life itself, but he carried in one hand a pickax and in the other a net.

The metal claws snipped through the net as if it were lace. When the big man swung the pick and missed, the other drove forward with his head and gored an arm. I saw no blood, but the skin tore fiercely. It ended with the pickax in the claw man's back. The sound of applause filled the mall from speakers mounted on the buildings. The big man bowed stiffly as the cleanup crew came to take away the vanquished. The mother and daughters lost interest and wandered off to something else. I walked quietly up to the side of the battle ring behind where the winner stood.