He eyed me unhappily. ‘‘The main reason for this is that I hope to recruit you into a new law enforcement department. In a senior position.’’

‘‘Huh? Another one? Me? Be a tin whistle? I don’t think . . .’’

My lack of enthusiasm didn’t please the prince. ‘‘I’d think this would be your dream job. Doing what you do, with the Crown behind you. Your income guaranteed.’’

Being told what I could and couldn’t do, what I could and couldn’t wear, even being told how to lace my boots.

I wanted to yell, ‘‘Get thee behind me, foul demon!’’ But it was better to temporize. ‘‘I was a Marine. I’m proud of that. But it isn’t going to happen again.’’

‘‘You not being your own boss.’’

‘‘Exactly.’’

‘‘You’d have more freedom than you think.’’

That would be true the day the air filled with live, squealing bacon thicker than a gnat swarm. ‘‘You’d have to get more specific before I’d consider it. I like my life the way it is.’’

‘‘I’d hoped to make you my personal observer inside the Al-Khar. Straightforward enough?’’

‘‘Ah. . . .’’ Yes. He wanted to set me up to look over the shoulders of the masters of the Guard, Watch, and Unpublished Committee.

He said, ‘‘I’m gathering people who are the best at what they do. With you we’d start out using an arrangement like the one you have with the Weider Brewery. Outside the Al-Khar your Special Office would handle things we don’t want the Guard or Watch seen ham-handing. Inside, you’d be Director of the Office of the Chief Inspectorate, publicly tasked to watch the watchers. You’d follow a career arc similar to Director Relway’s but with your name becoming less well known. You’d have the city’s most talented people reporting to you. You’d do highly important work but the public would remain unaware of it.’’

A snake oil salesman ought to have more facility expressing himself. The prince’s tics left him sounding like a crook even if he was being honest. ‘‘Whatwould I be doing if I wasn’t keeping Relway honest?’’

‘‘Not yet. Not a word more than what I’ve said. I repeat. This isn’t to become part of public discourse, now or if you accept the position.’’

All right. He was offering me a job. A real job. Probably doing what I do, till I weaseled my way in where I could keep an eye on the darkness at the heart of the Al-Khar.

‘‘If you accept I’d want you to bring all your resources with you. And to disengage from private arrangements.’’

That killed it. Wasn’t going to happen. But I wasn’t ready to break his heart in front of so many absent witnesses.

He sensed the change. His eyes narrowed. ‘‘Compensation would be commensurate with your level of responsibility.’’

‘‘Generous, huh?’’

‘‘Very. I’m asking you to give up a lot.’’

My eyes narrowed. But temptation remained well behind me. I couldn’t imagine the king of Karenta being more generous than the king of beer. Not to mention less controlling.

‘‘Enough to let you retain your usual associates. Though they couldn’t know what you’re doing. Some don’t know how to keep a secret.’’

‘‘You’ve been checking up.’’

‘‘We could, in fact, set up departmental expenses separate from salaries. But you’d have to keep detailed records. You’d have to account for everything. And be prepared to argue convincingly for expenditures. I’m creating a fiscal oversight group, too.’’

The more he talked the more his offer sounded like a nightmare come true. ‘‘It’s interesting, the turns life takes.’’

‘‘Seize the night, as they say.’’ His excitement was gone. He knew I wasn’t buying.

He soldiered on, though. He asked my thoughts on the leading personalities of our day. A dozen times he said, ‘‘I never thought of it that way.’’ Or, ‘‘Is that how the little folk see it?’’ He had a strong interest in the differences in thinking between his class and those of us who do the world’s work. Not that he saw any particular merit in the plebian viewpoint.

He might have been slumming, or just enjoying a freak show.

He kept going back to popular attitudes toward Relway, Block, the better known human rights agitators, and the Contagues. And, more obliquely, his brother the king. I was as honest as I dared be. While growing ever more suspicious.

Morley would be heartbroken. I’d have to tell him that, as yet, he had done nothing gaudy enough to have caught the eye of Good Prince Rupert.

It would be nice if he kept it that way.

Mr. Jan did seize the opportunity to take additional measurements while I was there. Though my new coat would now be delayed till he completed the masterwork he was creating for the prince.

Back to the World? Or go home?

Home sounded good. The Dead Man could get to work making sense of what had just happened with Prince Rupert. And I could get warm.

I had some ideas about the nature of the tar pit I’d stumbled into but wasn’t confident of my instincts. Old Bones could winkle out the shadowed connections.

And the house would be warm.

Everyone else had a different idea about what was going on at the World. They all agreed: We had us a dragon down below and we had to tippy-toe till it went back to sleep.

Home kept calling but there was a lot of day left. I decided to check in with Morley Dotes. I had something nagging at me. My subconscious might nail it down while my friend distracted my conscious mind.

Dotes looked so glum I decided to order a mixed veggie grill just to cheer him up. He joined me while I waited. I asked, ‘‘How come so blue? Nobody in their right mind would be out in this, anyway.’’

‘‘It’s not that. Not just that. I’ve made a deal with a devil. I can’t stop thinking about the possible consequences.’’

‘‘Any deal with Belinda definitely has a downside. You give up on collecting the bounty on Lurking Felhske?’’

‘‘No bounty to be had anymore, brother.’’

‘‘Huh? Not even Relway?’’

‘‘Especially not Relway and his Unpublished Committee, apparently. A red top came around with a message for me, personally. He was part giant, part ogre, had fangs down to here, and made Saucerhead look like the runt of the litter.’’

Inspiration. ‘‘Did he drool a lot? Have one fang kind of twisted? Talked with a lisp because of what would be called a harelip if he was human?’’

‘‘Member of your family?’’

‘‘Not yet. Just an acquaintance. From afar. I doubt if he knows me. And I doubt if he’s really a red cap. He’d be Urban Jack Tick-Tack. Real name, Capricious Moon. He’s in the same line as Saucerhead, only up the Hill.’’

‘‘Urban Jack? Tick-Tack?’’

‘‘I don’t know.’’ I preened. It isn’t often that I know something about the lice on the belly of the body politic that my friends don’t. ‘‘Where do nicknames come from?’’

‘‘My guess is, there’s a crippled little god somewhere, sitting in his playpen, who thinks them up and slides them into people’s heads when they’re squatting on the chamber pot.’’

My mixed grill came, redolent of garlic and ginger. I dug in. It was good. Morley could tell I liked it. He was smug. He told me, ‘‘Singe and I did still give it one last half-ass try. Because I don’t let anyone push.’’

‘‘Singe, too?’’

‘‘My mistake. I know. I shouldn’t have involved her. She decided she can’t track him anymore, anyway. She says he took a bath.’’

‘‘Gods! Good. If anybody ever needed one . . .’’

‘‘She didn’t mean a literal soap and water bath, Garrett. Though he did that, too.’’

‘‘Interesting.’’

‘‘I suppose. Why?’’

‘‘Somebody wants Lurking Felhske even farther on the down low.’’

Dotes raised an eyebrow almost as fetchingly as I do.

‘‘He wouldn’t notice his own stench. Guys with the big body odor just don’t. They live with it. Right? So somebody clued him in, convinced him, and added a little magic.’’