The goblin drew a breath through his mouth, then closed it.

More exhalation pressure for the fire stream. He tilted his head back, pointing his nose at the dwarf, and let fly. Quick as a flash, Mulch jammed his thumbs up wart-face's nostrils. Disgusting, yes, but definitely better than being dwarf kebab.

The fireball had nowhere to go. It rebounded on the balls of Mulch's thumbs and ricocheted back into the goblin's head. The tear ducts provided the path of least resistance, so the flames compressed into pressurized streams, erupting just below the goblin's eyes. A sea of flame spread across the cell roof.

Mulch withdrew his thumbs and, after a quick wipe, thrust them in his mouth, allowing the natural balm in his saliva to begin the healing process. Of course if he'd still had his magic, he could have ust wished the scorched digits better. But that was the price you paid for a life of crime.

Wart-face didn't look so good. Smoke was leaking from every orifice in his head. Flameproof goblins may be, but the errant fireball had given his tubes a good scouring. He swayed like a strand of 160seaweed, then collapsed face down on the concrete floor. Something crunched. Probably a big goblin nose.

The other gang members did not react favourably.

'Look what he did to the boss!'

'That stinkin' stump.'

'Let's fry 'im.'

Mulch backed up even further. He'd been hoping the remaining goblins would lose their nerve once their leader was out of commission. Apparently not. Even though it was most definitely not in his nature, Mulch had no option but to attack.

He unhinged his jaw and leaped forward, clamping his teeth around the foremost goblin's head.

'Ow, bagg off!' he shouted around the obstruction in his mouth.

'Bagg off or ur briend gedds it!'

The others froze, uncertain of their next move. Of course they'd all seen what dwarf molars could do to a goblin head. Not a pretty sight.

Each one popped a fireball in his fist.

'I'm warnih ooh!'

'You can't get us all, stumpy.'

Mulch resisted the impulse to bite down. It is the strongest of dwarf urges, a genetic memory born from millennia spent tunnelling.

The fact that the goblin was wriggling slimily didn't help. His options were running out. The gang was advancing and he was powerless as long as his mouth was full. It was crunch time. Pardon the pun.

Suddenly the cell door clanked open and what seemed like an entire squadron of LEP officers flooded the confined space. Mulch felt the cold steel of a gun barrel against his temple.

'Spit out the prisoner,' ordered a voice.

Mulch was delighted to comply. A thoroughly slimed goblin collapsed retching on the floor.

'You goblins, put 'em out.'

One by one the fireballs were extinguished.

'That's not my fault,' whined Mulch, pointing to the spasming wart-face. 'He blew himself up.'

The officer holstered his weapon, drawing out a set of cuffs.

'I couldn't care less what you do to each other,' he said, spinning Mulch and snapping the cuffs on. 'If it was up to me, I'd put the whole lot of you in a big room, and come back a week later to sluice it out.

But Commander Root wants to see you above ground ASAP.'

'ASAP?'

'Now, if not sooner.'

Mulch knew Root. The commander was responsible for several of his government hotel visits. If Julius wanted to see him, it probably wasn't for drinks and a movie.

'Now? But it's daylight now. I'll burn.'

The LEP officer laughed.

'It ain't daylight where you're going, pal. Where you're going it ain't anything.'

Root was waiting for the dwarf inside the time-field portal. The portal was yet another of Foaly's inventions. Fairies could be introduced to and leave the time-field without affecting the altered flow inside the field. This effectively meant that even though it took nearly six hours to get Mulch to the surface, he was injected into the field only moments after Root had the notion to send for him.

It was Mulch's first time in a field. He stood watching life proceed at an exaggerated rate outside the shimmering corona. Cars zipped by at impossible speeds, and clouds tumbled across the skyline as though driven by force-ten gales.

'Mulch, you little reprobate,' roared Root. 'You can take off that suit now. The field is UV-filtered, or so I'm told.'

The dwarf had been issued a blackout suit at E1. Even though dwarfs had thick skins, they were extremely sensitive to sunlight and had a burn time of less than three minutes. Mulch peeled off the skintight suit.

'Nice to see you, Julius.'

'That's Commander Root to you.'

'Commander now. I heard that. Clerical error, was it?'

Root's teeth ground his cigar to a pulp.

'I don't have time for this impudence, convict. And the only reason that my boot is not up your behind right now is that I have a job for you.'

Mulch frowned.

'Convict? I have a name, you know, Julius.'

Root squatted to the dwarf's level.

'I don't know what dreamworld you live in, convict, but in the real world you are a criminal and it is my job to ensure your life is as unpleasant as possible. So if you're expecting civility just because I've testified against you some fifteen times, forget it!'

Mulch rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had left red welts.

'Fine, Commander. No need to blow a gasket. I'm not a murderer, you know, just a petty criminal.'

'From what I hear, you nearly made the transformation below in the cells.'

'Not my fault. They attacked me.'

Root screwed a fresh cigar into his mouth.

'Fine, whatever. Just follow me, and don't steal anything.'

'Yessir, Commander,' said Mulch innocently.

He didn't need to steal anything else. He'd already palmed Root's field-access card when the commander had made the mistake of leaning over.

They crossed the Retrieval perimeter to the avenue.

'Do you see that manor?'

'What manor?'

Root rounded on him.

'I don't have time for this, convict. Nearly half my time-stop has elapsed. Another few hours and one of my best officers will be blue-rinsed!'

Mulch shrugged.

'None of my concern. I'm just a criminal, remember. And by the way, I know what you want me to do, and the answer is no.'

'I haven't even asked you yet.'

'It's obvious. I'm a housebreaker. That's a house. You can't go in because you'll lose your magic, but my magic is already gone. Two and two.'

Root spat out the cigar.

'Don't you have any civic pride? Our entire way of life is on the line here.'

'Not my way of life. Fairy prison, human prison. It's all the same to me.'

The commander thought about it.

'OK, you slime. Fifty years off your sentence.'

'I want amnesty.'

'In your dreams, Mulch.'

'Take it or leave it.'

'Seventy-five years in minimum security. You take it or leave it.'

Mulch pretended to think. It was all academic, seeing as he intended escaping anyway.

'Single cell?'

'Yes, yes. Single cell. Now, will you do it?'

'Very well, Julius. Only because it's you.'

Foaly was searching for a matching iris-cam.

'Hazel, I think. Or perhaps tawny. You really do have stunning eyes, Mister Mulch.'

'Thank you, Foaly. My mother always said they were my most attractive feature.'

Root was pacing the shuttle floor.

'You two do realize we're on a deadline here, don't you? Never mind matching the colour. Just give him a camera.'

Foaly plucked a lens from its solution with tweezers.

'This is not just vanity, Commander. The closer the match, the less interference from the actual eye.'

'Whatever, whatever, just get on with it.'

Foaly grabbed Mulch's chin, holding him still.

'There you are. We're with you all the way.'

Foaly twisted a tiny cylinder into the thick tufts of hair growing from Mulch's ear.