'Thursday Next reporting for duty.'

'Ah!' he said, rising and giving me a hand to shake. 'The Outlander. Is it true that — out there — two or more people can talk at the same time"?'

'In the Outland it happens all the time.'

'And do cats do anything else but sleep?'

'Not really.'

'I see. And what do you make of this?'

He lifted a small traffic cone on to his desk and presented it with a dramatic nourish.

'It's … it's a traffic cone.'

'Something of a rarity, yes?'

I chose my words carefully.

'In many areas of the Outland they are completely unknown.'

'I collect Outlandish objects,' he said with a great deal of pride. 'You must come and see my novelty teapot collection.'

'I'd be delighted.'

He sat down and indicated for me to take a chair. 'I was sorry to hear about Miss Havisham; she was one of the best operatives Jurisfiction ever had. Will there be a memorial?'

'Tuesday.'

'I'll be sure to send flowers. Welcome to the Judgement of Solomon©. It's arbitration, mainly, a bit of licensing. We need someone to look after the crowds outside. They can get a bit impassioned sometimes.'

'You're King Solomon?'

The old man laughed.

'Me? You must be joking! There aren't enough minutes in the day for one Solomon — as soon as he did that "divide the baby in two" thing, everyone and his uncle wanted him to arbitrate, from corporate takeovers to playground disputes. So he did what any right-thinking businessman would do: he franchised. How else do you think he could afford the temple and the chariots and the navy and whatnot? The land he sold to Hiram of Tyre? Give me a break! My real name's Kenneth.'

I looked a little doubtful.

'I know what you're thinking. "The Judgement of Kenneth" does sound a bit daft — that's why we are licensed to give judgements under his name. All above board, I assure you. You have to purchase the cloak and grow a beard and go on the training course, but it works out very well. The real Solomon works from home but he sticks to the ultimate riddles of existence these days.'

'What if a franchisee makes a dishonest judgement?'

'Very simple.' Kenneth smiled. 'The offender will be smitten from on high and forced to spend a painful eternity being tortured mercilessly by sadistic demons from the fieriest depths of Hell. Solomon's very strict about that.'

'I see.'

'Good. Let's see the first punter.'

I went to the door and asked for ticket-holder number thirty-two. A small man with a briefcase walked with me up to Kenneth's table. His knees became quite weak by the time he arrived but he managed to contain himself well.

'Name?'

'Mr Toves from Text Grand Central, Your Eminence.'

'Reason?'

'I need to ask for more exemptions from the "I before E except after C" rule.'

'More?'

'It's part of the upgrade to UltraWord™, Your Honour.'

'Very well, go ahead.'

'Feisty.'

'Approved.'

'Feigned.'

'Approved.'

'Weighty.'

'Approved.'

'Believe.'

'Not approved.'

'Reigate.'

'Approved.'

'That's it for the moment,' said the small man, passing his papers across for Kenneth to sign.

'It is the Judgement of Solomon©,' said Kenneth slowly, 'that these words be exempt from Rule 7b of the arbitrary spelling code as ratified by the Council of Genres.'

He stamped the paper and the small man scurried off.

'What's next?'

But I was thinking. Although I had been told to ignore the three witches, their premonition about the 'I before E except after C' rule had just come true. In fact, the 'blinded dog' had barked, the 'hedge-pig' had ironed, and Mrs Passer-by had cried '’Tis time, '’tis time!' Was there something in it? Did they really think I was to be the Bellman? And what was that about the 'thrice read rule'?

'I'm a busy man,' said Kenneth, glaring at me. 'I don't need day dreamers!'

'I'm sorry,' I began, 'I was thinking of something the three witches told me.'

'Charlatans!' announced Kenneth. 'And worse — the competition. If you see them again, try to pinch their mailing list, won't you? In the meantime, can we have the next customer?'

I ushered them in. It was several characters from Wuthering Heights and they were all glaring at one another so much they didn't even recognise me. Heathcliff was wearing dark glasses and saying nothing; he was accompanied by his agent and a lawyer.

'Proceed!'

'Wuthering Heights first-person narrative dispute,' said the lawyer, placing a sheet of paper on the table.

'Let me see,' said Kenneth slowly, studying the report. 'Mr Lockwood, Catherine Earnshaw, Heathcliff, Nelly Dean, Isabella and Catherine Linton. Are you all here?'

They nodded their heads. Heathclif looked over his sunglasses at me and winked.

'Well,' murmured Kenneth at length, 'you all believe that you should have the first-person narrative, is that it?'

'No, Your Worshipfulness,' said Nelly Dean, ''’tis the otherways. None of us want it. It's a curse to any honest Generic — and some not so honest.'

'Hold your tongue, serving girl!' yelled Heathcliff.

'Murderer!'

'Say that again!'

'You heard me!'

And they all started to yell at one another until Kenneth banged his gavel on the desk and they were all instantly quiet. The Judgement of Solomon© was the last form of arbitration; there was no appeal from here and they all knew it.

'It is the Judgement of Solomon© that … you should all have the first-person narrative.'

'What?!' yelled Mr Lockwood. 'What kind of loopy idea is that? How can we all be the first person?'

'It is fair and just,' replied Kenneth, placing his fingertips together and staring at them all serenely.

'What will we do?' asked Catherine sarcastically. 'Talk at the same time?'

'No,' replied Kenneth. 'Mr Lockwood, you will introduce the story and you, Nelly, will tell the major part of it in deep retrospection; the others will have their say in the following ratios.'

He scribbled on the back of an envelope, signed it and handed it over. They all grumbled for a bit, Nelly Dean the most.

'Mrs Dean,' said Kenneth, 'you are, for better or worse, the single linking factor for all the families. Consider yourself lucky I did not give the whole book to you. It is the Judgement of Solomon© — now go!'

And they all filed out, Nelly complaining bitterly while Heathcliff strode ahead, ignoring all the others.

'That was quite good,' I said as soon as they had left.

'Do you think so?' asked Kenneth, genuinely pleased by my praise. 'Judgementing is not for everyone but I quite like it. The trick is to be scrupulously fair and just — you could do with a few Solomon franchises in the Outland. Tell me, do you think Lola will be going to the Bookie awards next week?'

'You know Lola?'

'Let's just say I have made her acquaintance in the course of my duties.'

'I'm sure she'll be there — on the chicklit table, I should imagine. She's starring in Girls Make all the Moves.'

'Is she really?' he said slowly. 'Who's next?'

'I don't know; it depends on the choice available. Sometimes she goes through them alphabetically, other times in order of height.'

'Not Lola, next for me.'

'Sorry,' I said, flushing slightly, 'I'll go and get them.'

It was Emperor Zhark. He seemed surprised to see me and told me what a great agent Miss Havisham had been. I walked him in and he and Kenneth both started when they saw one another. They had clearly met before — but not for some time.

'Zhark!' cried Kenneth, walking around to the front of the desk and offering the emperor a Havana cigar. 'You old troublemaker! Haven't seen you for ages! What are you up to?'