Me having had the description, this couldn’t be anyone else.

Damn, he was huge! How the hell had he gotten down the stairs?

He was scattered around the floor of that anteroom in the deepest basement. There was blood everywhere, tacky but a long way from dry. Jack had suffered at least a dozen cuts, most shallow, well distributed. Plus the chest wound, where something had gone in deep enough to penetrate a lung.

I held a moonstone up high, to light as much area as possible.

Urban Jack sensed my presence. Dull eyes cracked open. He couldn’t have seen me very well, with the moonstone over my head. He reached up, got hold of the beaver coat for a second. ‘‘Boss? I think they were too much for me this time.’’ His eyes closed again. His hand fell.

He did go on breathing raggedly.

‘‘Grinblatt! Rindt! Where the hell are you? You all right?’’

No answer.

I started with the clubhouse door. Nothing. Nobody and nothing. The place had been cleaned out of everything but an underground smell.

Likewise, the little trysting room. That one before any other, most likely.

I picked the bad door for last, meaning I tried the one I thought led to the Faction’s lab. And there I found a full complement of Grinblatts. Less Mindie, gone for help.

They were all unconscious. Which meant they were bad hurt. Some dwarves can go into hibernation, or sort of an induced coma, when they suffer a life-threatening trauma. Meaning these dwarves were in a bad way but they could be saved. They wouldn’t be getting out of the cellar without being carried, though.

I placed the moonstones on a naked table and started checking the dwarves. Essentially a futile gesture. They were all bundled up in their standard dwarfish apparel. I’d need a blacksmith to get them out.

The boy appeared to be in the best shape. He lay farthest from the doorway. It looked like his mother had broken bones. Rindt had more broken bones. He looked awful. I was amazed he was breathing, induced coma or no. He had to have serious internal injuries.

First things first. Mindie’s moonstones were fading.

I’d just gotten a third lamp burning when I heard Saucerhead’s remote bellow. ‘‘Garrett?’’

‘‘Come on down. It’s safe.’’ If there had been any spells, Urban Jack had torn them up. ‘‘Be careful on the stairs.’’

I slipped the moonstones back into my pocket.

The lamplight revealed a lot more nothing. The place had been stripped. Only a dozen dirty, empty tables remained. There was no seeing any wall but the one housing the door I’d used to get in. There were pillars that seemed to go out in endless ranks and files. There were echoes.

This was not something the Faction had created for themselves.

But they had gotten it emptied out fast. Them and their moms and dads.

Saucerhead came clumping down, followed by several other pairs of feet. ‘‘I’m in here. Whatever you do, don’t open any doors.’’

Tharpe arrived. ‘‘What the hell did you do, Garrett? I know you’re handy when they get you backed into a corner, but there ain’t no way you took Urban Jack.’’

‘‘You’re right. That would be these people here.’’

‘‘Dwarves? No shit?’’ He put down a typical human impulse to argue. ‘‘That actually makes more sense. Dwarves wouldn’t fuck around trying to talk about it. They wouldn’t worry about no appropriate level of response. They seen an Urban Jack headed their way, they’d go to the axes first.’’ He added a bit of philosophy I probably ought to consider more when I get all morally judgmental. ‘‘Better to be alive and feel bad than dead and feel nothing.’’

‘‘Yeah. You see that face coming at you out of the darkness, you shouldn’t worry about anything but chopping it up.>

‘‘How did the asshole get down here, Garrett? Big as he is?’’

‘‘I don’t know. Had to work at it, I guess. I don’t care. These dwarves need hauled out. We could turn these tables into stretchers.’’

‘‘Is that a good idea? What do we do with them once we’ve got them out in the cold?’’

Not a point I wanted to hear, but a good one. ‘‘Mindie? Are you here? Where’s Mindie?’’

‘‘Who? The little dwarf?’’

‘‘Her.’’

‘‘I think—’’

A little voice piped up in the antechamber. ‘‘I’m out here, Mr. Garrett.’’ She weaseled between Figgie Joe and a couple red caps, looked around. ‘‘I was going to stick a knife in the monster’s eye. But then I thought how bad he would start to smell, and how long it would be before there was nothing left but bones. So I left him alone. Maybe he can get out of here on his own. Then you can chop his head off.’’

‘‘Sugar and spice,’’ Tharpe observed.

‘‘And everything nice. Mindie, what about your mom and dad and brother?’’

She was looking them over as I asked. ‘‘It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything will turn out all right, given time, Mr. Garrett.’’ She knelt beside her father.

Saucerhead and his companions gaped. Me too. This wasn’t the scared little girl I’d found hiding in the blizzard a little bit ago. Nor was she the girl who’d shown up at the World looking for help from Saucerhead. Now she was a girl confident of the future.

Two minutes later she was a little manager telling Saucerhead and the guys thanks for the help, and they could get back to what they’d been doing now. They smiled some and nodded some. Tharpe and Figgie Joe did go.

The red caps stayed right where they were. Violence had been done without official license. They were going to sit in here till they got official instructions from the Al-Khar. Which meant that somebody had gone to get those.

I might want to move on myself, then. I had no special desire to spend my evening answering stupid questions over and over.

Mindie accepted the presence of the law. What chance did a kid have? She came to me. ‘‘Thank you. They’ll be all right. Daddy will take a while to recover, though. Did you take care of my stuff? I’ll take it back now.’’

I pointed. Shield, sword, ax, and helmet rested on one of the otherwise empty tables. The moonstones were in my coat pocket. I slipped them to her without the red caps noticing. ‘‘You sure you’ll be all right?’’

‘‘I’ll be fine, Mr. Garrett. I have these men to protect me if the monster gets back up.’’ But, for an instant, the frightened child peered out from behind the confident mask dwarves have to show us lesser species.

‘‘All right. I don’t want to be late for supper. But only if you’re absolutely sure.’’

Fleeting dwarfish smile from behind a beard just starting to come in. ‘‘No, you don’t want to miss a meal.’’ And, as I was sliding past the red tops, ‘‘Thank you again, Mr. Garrett.’’

As noted, a heavy, wet snow is a quiet place. And blinding. People are vague shapes till you feel their breath.

How Lurking Felhske found me, I couldn’t imagine. I’d have thought it impossible. Proof he was a genius. But he didn’t surprise me, bath or no bath. Twice he came close enough for me to sense as he sized me up. Then he took a run at me less than a quarter mile from home. Coming at me out of the snow like he was just another miserable traveler slouching along in the opposite direction.

I didn’t actually know it was Felhske then. There was no telltale stench. But I did realize that somebody was sizing me up.

He got the tip of the oak headknocker between the eyes as he drew even, before he could turn and jump me from behind. His knees went wobbly. I got behind him, shoved a knee into his spine while laying my club across his throat. ‘‘Be good, brother.’’ Taking a while to realize who I had, which I did only after I realized I had hold of a very oddly constructed gentleman.

Despite the orangutan shape Felhske conceded his shortcomings as a street fighter. He resigned himself.

‘‘What the hell are you thinking? Your principal is out of action.’’