'But what we are talking about is the same.

'Essentially, yes, but I will instigate it differently. Securing the City must come first, without that all will be lost. Owain is using unification to rally the city behind him, the city as it is. Ultimately, that will fail.

'We're making progress, Edeard said. 'I have a new tactic which we're almost ready to deploy. It's a bit of a gamble, but it might help resolve the current stand-off.

'Then let us pray to the Lady that it does.

Edeard stood, almost ready to go. 'Master?

'Oh dear, Finitan said with a kindly smile. 'This doesn't sound good.

'I need a small genistar to scout round without drawing attention to itself.

'An interesting challenge, I will see what I can sculpt for you.

'And I was also wondering if you know how to see through a concealment. I'm convinced the people who set the trap for me in Eyrie were able to perceive me.

Finitan gave Topar a fast bemused glance. 'As there is absolutely no such thing as concealment, then there could be no way to penetrate it.

'Yes sir, Edeard said in disappointment.

'Certainly no such thing as this.

Finitan's gifting rushed into Edeard's mind, a hugely complex methodology he could barely comprehend.

'I'll be sure I remember to not use it, then, sir.

'We'll make a true Makkathran citizen out of you yet, my boy.

The uniforms that arrived from the tailor were amazingly comfortable, made from some weave of cotton and drosilk that were as soft as they were strong. Edeard hadn't expected that. Unlike the dress uniform which Kristabel had given him, these were all for everyday use. They lacked the sheer gaudiness of militia uniforms, but the tailor had somehow contrived to make them a lot more glamorous than the ones Edeard had bought from the regular constable supplier. Platinum buttons shone brighter than Dinlay's ageing over-polished silver ones. The cut was subtly different, making him look sharp and smart, the kind of tunic a member of the nobility would wear if they could ever lower themselves to sign on at a station. And the shirts made mountaintop snow look grey by comparison. The tailor even supplied a special mix of soap flakes for the ge-chimps to use, so as not to sully that purity. And, as for the knee-high boots, space between the nebulas wasn't that black nor did it possess such lustre.

The first morning he put one on Edeard stood nervously in front of his maisonette's mirror and looked at the figure he cut. No way could he stop the prideful smile from lifting his lips.

Dashing, he decided, yes, very dashing.

The long weather-cloak helped, held by an emerald-encrusted broach round his neck which he was trying to pin into place one-handed. His third hand ruffled it, and he admired the swirl it made around him. Nice touch. He practised the ruffle again, making the fabric flare out and undulate in slow motion. Perhaps it could become his signature; at night he would brighten the city's orange lights to silhouette himself as he emerged from nowhere to bear down formidably on criminals, cloak swirling like angry smoke behind him. At such an impressive sight the fight would go out of them, and they'd abandon their wrongdoing, sinking to their knees in contrition. Okay then!

'Yow! The broach pin jabbed into his fumbling thumb. Edeard shook it, then sucked the drop of blood away. 'Lady-damn. All right, so the image needs a bit of work.

He fixed the broach in place, settled the hat on his head, and ran a finger along the rim, ending in a salute to himself. 'Now that's what I call an officer of the city.

Macsen called it something else entirely as Edeard strode purposefully into their small hall at Jeavons station. Young Felax dropped his jaw in astonishment as Edeard walked past the bench he was sitting at. A cheeky chorus of wolf-whistles echoed round the small hall.

'Happy to see you're not abandoning your roots, Kanseen sniped.

Edeard undipped the broach and removed his weather-cloak with a flourish. 'Anyone else jealous?

'I'm so glad you taught us concealment, Boyd grunted. 'Because there's no way I'm walking down a street next to that.

Dinlay glared at him for the indiscretion. 'You look very smart, he said. 'People have expectations from us now, it's right that you should look the part.

'Thank you, Edeard acknowledged. He looked round the hall. There were ten constables sitting at the tables now, men he trusted implicitly, reading through reports. The way files were building up they'd soon have to contract the Guild of Clerks to keep track of it all, Edeard thought ruefully.

'Seventy-two of them now, Doral said.

'That's good, Edeard acknowledged. Most of the files in the hall were those on the excluded, which were still being added to. But his team had been going through them, and assessing the reports from stations across the city, along with the priceless information coming in through Charyau and his network of merchants and traders. Edeard's old notes from his days spying on the House of Blue Petals were also examined keenly. Slowly and surely, they were identifying the senior echelons of the gangs. The leadership rarely met in person, so there was no hard evidence actually tying them together in any criminal act. But the way they collaborated and respected each other's territories meant that they knew each other, that they were organized along formal lines. In fact, it was intriguingly like a mirror to the way which the interests of the established nobility locked together. Edeard was still a little irked that they hadn't proved a connection between the gangs and the more disreputable aristocratic families — such as the Gilmorns, for example.

'Can't we just go and arrest them? Boyd whined. 'Surely seventy-two is enough? And Buate is still having to appear in the financial court each day.

Edeard pulled a face. 'I'd like it to be a hundred, he said. There was something about the number which was impressive. It would show Makkathran's citizens how they were making huge inroads against the gangs. That it wasn't just exclusion warrants and the promises of the Mayoral candidates they were deploying against the gangs.

The idea wasn't to get convictions, Edeard knew he didn't have enough evidence for that. But a little known clause in the articles of arrest meant that if a constable swore there were grounds for suspicion that the detainee was involved in illegal activity they could be held for twenty-two days without charges being filed. The twenty-two days was supposed to allow tin-constables enough time to gather evidence and interview all concerned.

Edeard reasoned that with the entire leadership, or as many as he could reasonably identify, taken off the streets and held incommunicado for half a month, the gangs' ordinary streel soldiers would be completely lost. 'A body without a head, as Macsen had summed it up.

If gang resistance crumbled as Edeard hoped, liberating people from their tyranny, the prospect of it all coming back at the end of the twenty-two days would be a colossal argument in Finitan's favour to bring about the banishment. Finitan was also planning to introduce emergency legislation to the Grand Council as soon as the arrests began, extending the detention period to a full month. Forty-four days would take them past the election. It was slightly underhand, Edeard thought, but then this was Makkathran — he wasn't about to change it overnight.

He sat down at the table he used, and gave the neat grey cardboard folders a dispirited look. No matter how hard they worked, or how much he delegated, the paperwork never got any smaller.

'Something more for you to read, Dinlay said.

Edeard looked up to see his friends clustered together, smiling as Dinlay held out a small red book.