'Now,' he said, his voice deceptively calm. 'Pretend we're pushed for time here and just explain it to me without any attitude or comments.'

'The human said we couldn't enter while he was alive,' squeaked Cumulus.

'So?'

Argon took up the account.

'So… if we can't go in while he's alive…'

Root drew a sharp breath. 'Then we go in when he's dead.'

Cumulus and Argon beamed. 'Exactly,' they said in perfect unison.

Root scratched his chin.

'I don't know. We're on shaky ground here legally.'

'Not at all,' argued Cumulus. 'It's elementary grammar. The human specifically stated that entry was forbidden as long as he was alive. That's tantamount to an invitation when he's dead.'

The commander wasn't convinced.

'The invitation is implied, at best.'

'No,' interrupted Foaly. 'They're right. It's a strong case. Once Fowl is dead, the door is wide open. He said it himself.'

'Maybe.'

'Maybe nothing,' blurted Foaly. 'For heaven's sake, Julius, how much more do you need? We have a crisis here, in case you hadn't noticed.'

Root nodded slowly.

'One, you're right. Two, I'm going to run with it. Three, well done, you two. And four, if you ever call me Julius again, Foaly, you'll be eating your own hooves. Now, get me a line to the Council. I need to get approval for that gold.'

'Right away, Commander Root, your worship.' Foaly grinned, letting the hoof-eating comment slide for Holly's sake.

'So we send in the gold,' muttered Root, thinking aloud. 'They send out Holly, we blue-rinse the place and stroll in to reclaim the ransom. Simple.'

'So simple it's brilliant,' enthused Argon. 'Quite a coup for our profession, wouldn't you say, Doctor Cumulus?'

Cumulus's head was spinning with possibilities.

'Lecture tours, book deals. Why, the movie rights alone will be worth a fortune.'

'Let those sociologists stuff this in their collective pipe. Puts the kibosh on the deprivation-breeds-antisocial-behaviour chestnut. This Fowl character has never gone hungry in his life.'

'There's more than one kind of hunger,' noted Argon.

'Very true. Hunger to succeed. Hunger to dominate. Hunger to — '

Root snapped.

'Get out! Get out before I strangle the pair of you. And if I ever hear a word of this repeated on an afternoon talk show, I'll know where it came from.'

The consultants retreated warily, resolving not to call their agents until they were out of earshot.

'I don't know if the Council will go for this,' admitted Root when they'd departed. 'It's a lot of gold.'

Foaly looked up from the console.

'How much exactly?'

The commander slid a piece of paper across the console.

'That much.'

'That is a lot.' Foaly whistled. 'A tonne. Small unmarked ingots. Twenty-four carat only. Well, at least it's a nice round weight.'

'Very comforting. I'll be sure to mention that to the Council. Have you got that line yet?'

The centaur grunted. A negative grunt. Very cheeky really, grunting at a superior officer. Root didn't have the energy to discipline him, but he made a mental note: when this is over, dock Foaly's pay for a few decades. He rubbed his eyes exhaustedly. Time lag was beginning to set in. Even though his brain wouldn't let him sleep because he'd been awake when the time-stop was initiated, his body was crying out for rest.

He rose from the chair, swinging the door wide to let in some air.

Stale. Time-stop air. Not even molecules could escape the time-field, much less a human boy.

There was activity by the portal. Lots of it. A swarm of troops gathered around a hovercage. Gudgeon stood at the head of the procession and the entire bunch was heading his way. Root stepped down to meet them.

'What's this?' he inquired, none too pleasantly. 'A circus?'

Gudgeon's face was pale, but determined.

'No, Julius. It's the end of the circus.'

Root nodded. 'I see. And these are the clowns?'

Foaly's head poked through the doorway.

'Pardon me for interrupting your extended circus metaphor, but what the hell is that?'

'Yes, Lieutenant,' said Root, nodding at the floating hovercage.

'What the hell is that?'

Gudgeon bolstered his courage with a few deep breaths. 'I've taken a leaf from your book, Julius.'

'Is that a fact?'

'Yes. It is. You opted to send in a lapsed creature. So now I'm going to.'

Root smiled dangerously.

'You don't opt to do anything, Lieutenant, not without my say so.'

Gudgeon took an unconscious step backwards.

'I've been to the Council, Julius. I have their full backing.'

The commander turned to Foaly. 'Is this true?'

'Apparently. It just came through on the outside line. This is Gudgeon's party now. He told the Council about the ransom demand and you springing Mister Diggums. You know what the elders are like when it comes to parting with gold.'

Root folded his arms.

'People told me about you, Gudgeon. They said you'd stab me in the back. I didn't believe them. I was a fool.'

'This is not about us, Julius. It's about the mission. What's inside this cage is our best chance of success.'

'So what's in the cage? No, don't tell me. The only other non-magical creature in the Lower Elements. And the first troll we've managed to take alive in over a century.'

'Exactly. The perfect creature to flush out our adversary.'

Root's cheeks glowed with the effort of restraining his anger.

'I don't believe you're even considering this.'

'Face it, Julius, it's the same basic idea as yours.'

'No, it isn't. Mulch Diggums made his own choices. He knew the risks.'

'Diggums is dead?'

Root rubbed his eyes again.

'Yes. It would seem so. A cave-in.'

'That just proves I'm right. A troll won't be so easily dispatched.'

'It's a dumb animal, for heaven's sake! How can a troll follow instructions?'

Gudgeon smiled, newborn confidence peeping through his apprehension.

'What instructions? We just point it at the house and get out of the way. I guarantee you those humans will be begging us to come in and rescue them.'

'And what about my officer?'

'We'll have the troll back under lock and key long before Captain Short is in any danger.'

'You can guarantee that, can you?'

Gudgeon paused.

'That's a chance I'm willing… the Council is willing to take.'

'Politics,' spat Root. 'This is all politics to you, Gudgeon. A nice feather in your cap on the way to a Council seat. You make me sick.'

'Be that as it may, we are proceeding with this strategy. The Council have appointed me Acting Commander, so if you can't put our personal history aside, get the hell out of my way.'

Root stepped aside.

'Don't worry, Commander. I don't want anything to do with this butchery. The credit is all yours.'

Gudgeon put on his best sincere face. 'Julius, despite what you think, I have only the interests of the People at heart.'

'One person in particular,' snorted Root.

Gudgeon decided to go for the high moral ground.

'I don't have to stand here listening to this. Every second talking to you is a second wasted.'

Root looked him straight in the eye. 'That's about six hundred years wasted altogether, eh, friend!'

Gudgeon didn't answer. What could he say? Ambition had a price, and that price was friendship.

Gudgeon turned to his squad, a group of hand-picked sprites loyal only to him. 'Get the hovercage over to the avenue. We don't green-light until I give the word.'

He brushed past Root, eyes looking anywhere except at his erstwhile friend. Foaly wouldn't let him go without a comment.

'Hey, Gudgeon.'

The Acting Commander couldn't tolerate that tone, not on his first day.

'You watch your mouth, Foaly. No one is indispensable.'