'It seems we must proceed on foot, Mister Nguyen. Run if you like, but expect a sharp and fatal pain between your shoulder blades.'

Nguyen glanced into Butler's eyes. They were a deep blue, almost black. There was no mercy in those eyes.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'I won't run.'

They climbed down from the vehicle. A thousand suspicious eyes followed their progress along the steaming alley. An unfortunate pickpocket attempted to steal Butler's wallet. The manservant broke the man's fingers without looking down. They were given a wide berth after that.

The alley narrowed to a rutted lane. Sewage and drainpipes fed directly on to the muddy surface. Cripples and beggars huddled on rice-mat islands. Most of the residents of this lane had nothing to spare, with the exception of three.

'Well?' demanded Artemis. 'Where is she?'

Nguyen jabbed a finger towards a black triangle beneath a rusted fire escape.

'There. Under there. She never comes out. Even to buy rice spirits, she sends a runner. Now, can I go?'

Artemis didn't bother answering. Instead he picked his way across the puddled lane to the lee of the fire escape. He could discern furtive movements in the shadows.

'Butler, could you hand me the goggles?'

Butler plucked a set of night-vision glasses from his belt and placed them in Artemis's outstretched hand. The focus motor buzzed to suit the light.

Artemis fixed the glasses to his face. Everything became radioactive green.Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze to the squirming shadows. Something squatted on a raffia mat, shifting uneasily in the almost non-existent light. Artemis fine-tuned the focus.

The figure was small, abnormally so, and wrapped in a filthy shawl.

Empty spirit jugs were half-buried in the mud around her. One forearm poked from the material. It seemed green. But then, so did everything else.

'Madam,' he said, 'I have a proposition for you.'

The figure's head wobbled sleepily.

'Wine,' she rasped, her voice like nails on a school board. 'Wine, English.'

Artemis smiled. The gift of tongues, aversion to light. Check, check.

'Irish, actually. Now, about my proposition?'

The healer shook a bony finger craftily.

'Wine first. Then talk.'

'Butler?'

The bodyguard reached into a pocket and drew out a half-pint of the finest Irish whiskey. Artemis took the bottle and held it teasingly beyond the shadows. He barely had time to remove his goggles when the claw-like hand darted from the gloom to snatch the whiskey. A mottled green hand. There was no doubt.

Artemis swallowed a triumphant grin.

'Pay our friend, Butler. In full. Remember, Mister Nguyen, this is between us. You don't want Butler to come back, do you?'

'No, no, Master Fowl. My lips are sealed.'

'They had better be. Or Butler will seal them permanently.'

Nguyen skipped off down the alley, so relieved to be alive that he didn't even bother counting the sheaf of US currency. Most unlike him. In any event, it was all there. All twenty thousand dollars. Not bad for half an hour's work.

Artemis turned back to the healer.

'Now, madam, you have something that I want.'

The healer's tongue caught a drop of alcohol at the corner of her mouth.

'Yes, Irish. Sore head. Bad tooth. I heal.'

Artemis replaced the night-vision goggles and squatted to her level.

'I am perfectly healthy, madam, apart from a slight dust-mite allergy, and I don't think even you can do anything about that. No.

What I want from you is your Book.'

The hag froze. Bright eyes glinted from beneath the shawl.

'Book?' she said cautiously. 'I don't know about no book. I am healer. You want book, go to library.'

Artemis sighed with exaggerated patience. 'You are no healer.

You are a sprite, p'shуg, fairy, ka-dalun. Whichever language you prefer to use. And I want your Book.'

For a long moment the creature said nothing, then she threw back the shawl from her forehead. In the green glow of the night-vision goggles, her features leaped at Artemis like a Hallowe'en mask.

The fairy's nose was long and hooked under two slitted golden eyes.

Her ears were pointed, and the alcohol addiction had melted her skin like putty.

If you know about the Book, human,' she said slowly, fighting the numbing effects of the whiskey, 'then you know about the magic I have in my fist. I can kill you with a snap of my fingers!'

Artemis shrugged. 'I think not. Look at you. You are near dead.

The rice wine has dulled your senses. Reduced to healing warts.

Pathetic. I am here to save you, in return for the Book.'

'What could a human want with our Book?'

'That is no concern of yours. All you need to know are your options.'

The sprite's pointed ears quivered. Options?

'One, you refuse to give us the Book and we go home, leaving you to rot in this sewer.'

'Yes,' said the fairy. 'I choose this option.'

'Ah no. Don't be so eager. If we leave without the Book, you will be dead in a day.'

'A day! A day!'The healer laughed. 'I will outlive you by a century. Even fairies tethered to the human realm can survive the ages.'

'Not with half a pint of holy water inside them,' said Artemis, tapping the now empty whiskey bottle.

The fairy blanched, then screamed, a high keening horrible sound.

'Holy water! You have murdered me, human.'

'True,' admitted Artemis. 'It should start to burn any minute now.'

The fairy poked her stomach tentatively. 'The second option?'

'Listening now, are we? Very well then. Option two. You give me the Book for thirty minutes only. Then I return your magic to you.'

The sprite's jaw dropped. 'Return my magic? Not possible.'

'Oh but it is. I have in my possession two ampoules.

One, a vial of spring water from the fairy well sixty metres below the ring of Tara — possibly the most magical place on earth. This will counteract the holy water.'

'And the other?'

'The other is a little shot of man-made magic. A virus that feeds on alcohol, mixed with a growth reagent. It will flush every drop of rice wine from your body, remove the dependence and even bolster your failing liver. It'll be messy, but after a day you'll be zipping around as though you were a thousand years old again.'

The sprite licked her lips. To be able to rejoin the People?

Tempting.

'How do I know to trust you, human? You have tricked me once already.'

'Good point. Here's the deal. I give you the water on faith. Then, after I've had a look at the Book, you get the booster. Take it or leave it.'

The fairy considered. The pain was already curling around her abdomen. She thrust out her wrist.

'I take it.'

'I thought you might. Butler?'

The giant manservant unwrapped a soft Velcroed case containing a syringe gun and two vials. He loaded the clear one, shooting it into the sprite's clammy arm. The fairy stiffened momentarily, and then relaxed.

'Strong magic,' she breathed.

'Yes. But not as strong as your own will be when I give you the second injection. Now, the Book.'

The sprite reached into the folds of her filthy robe, rummaging for an age. Artemis held his breath. This was it. Soon the Fowls would be great again. A new empire would rise, with Artemis Fowl the

Second at its head.

The fairy woman withdrew a closed fist.

'No use to you anyway. Written in the old tongue.'

Artemis nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She opened her knobbly fingers. Lying in her palm was a tiny golden volume the size of a matchbox.

'Here, human. Thirty of your minutes. No more.'

Butler took the tiny tome reverentially. The bodyguard activated a compact digital camera and began photographing each wafer-thin page of the Book. The process took several minutes. When he was finished, the entire volume was stored on the camera's chip. Artemis preferred not to take chances with information. Airport security equipment had been known to wipe many a vital disk. So he instructed his aide to transfer the file to his portable phone and from there e-mail it to Fowl Manor in Dublin. Before the thirty minutes were up, the file containing every symbol in the Fairy Book was sitting safely in the Fowl server.