This particular elf watched me approach and lazily blew a perfect smoke ring at me. Followed by half a dozen increasingly complex smoke shapes, culminating in a great ship perched on a rising wave, complete with billowing sails and shaking rigging. But he was only showing off, so I ignored it. I pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him, careful to keep the whole of the table between us.

"So," said the elf, in a voice like a cat drowning in cream and loving every minute of it, "here you are. Lilith's son."

"Actually," I said, "I take more after my father. I'm John Taylor."

"Of course. And you can address me as Lord Screech, Pale Prince of Owls."

"But that's not your real name."

"Of course not. To know the true name of a thing is to have power over it. But for the purpose of this transaction, Lord Screech will do."

"Because the owls are not what they seem?"

"Quite."

I looked him over. Screech was inhumanly tall and almost impossibly slender, with the usual slit-pupilled cat's eyes and sharp, pointed ears. His skin glowed like fine porcelain, so pale as to be almost colourless, and his quick smile showed pointed teeth behind the rose pink lips. He wore long oriental robes of a shimmering metallic green, complete with a stiff high collar that rose behind his head, and his long white hair had been swept up in tufts on either side of his elongated skull, like an owl's. I was tempted to make a Flock of Seagulls joke, but he wouldn't have got it.

And besides, it would have dated me.

"Why ask for me?" I said, directly.

"You have a reputation for arrogance, style, and occasional viciousness," said Screech. "You might almost have been an elf."

"Now you're just being nasty," I said. "And why meet here, of all places?"

"Because I do so love to watch humans degrade themselves," Screech said easily. "Throwing their lives away for such pitiful rewards. No elf would ever lower himself to anything as small as this; even our sins have to be magnificent."

"Tell me what you want," I said. "Or I'm out of here."

"Always so impatient," said Screech, laying aside his bone pipe. "Always in such a hurry. Comes of being mortal, I suppose. Very well, Mr. Taylor, I shall talk, and you will listen, which is of course the proper state of affairs between elf and human. I am presently passing through the Nightside on a matter of importance. It is imperative I complete my journey without being stopped or in any way detained along the way. I am an emissary between the two warring factions of Faerie."

"Hold everything," I said, leaning forward despite myself. "Go back, go previous; run that by me again. The Fae are at war with each other? When did that happen? And why haven't we heard about it?"

"Because it's none of your business."

"It is now," I said. "Or you wouldn't need my help."

"Life is imperfect," said Screech.

"All right; why pass through the Nightside at all?"

"Because this appalling locality is the nearest thing we have to neutral territory. I can see I'm going to have to fill you in on a few of the background details. How very tedious. In the beginning, long before human history began and we were all myths and legends… Queen Mab ruled over the Fae, and she was mighty and magnificent and terrible to behold in her glory. Under her rule we spread and prospered; but it didn't last. How could someone of such a magnitude as Mab have foreseen the rise of the vermin called Man? She underestimated you, and lost the war, and was deposed, by Oberon and Titania.

"They dragged her off her Throne and threw her down into Hell; and there she stayed for many centuries, while Oberon and Titania ruled the Fae in her place, in the Sundered Lands. But Mab got out; and after so long in the Houses of Pain, her vengeance was terrible to behold. She cast Oberon and Titania down, to take her place in Hell, and re-established herself as the one true rightful ruler of the Fae. Or as many of us as were left after she'd finished purging the unfaithful.

"But then Oberon and Titania fought their way out of Hell and took up residence in Shadows Fall, in the land under the hill, and have since amassed a mighty power of rebellious elves, determined to take back the Sundered Lands by force of arms. Aren't families embarrassing when you have to explain them to strangers?

"Anyway, civil wars are always costly, in all too many ways, and both sides have been persuaded to step back from the brink. For the moment. I have been acting as emissary between the two rival Courts, and after much… discussion, we have a Peace Treaty. It won't last-such things never do-but hopefully it will buy us time for more reasonable voices to make themselves heard. Or perhaps some public-spirited person will assassinate one or other of the Courts. I need you, John Taylor, to find me a safe way across the Nightside, from this distressing location to the furthest boundary, and the Osterman Gate. Where I might finally take my leave of this… human world, in favour of some more civilised reality.

"You must understand, Mr. Taylor, there are many here who would like nothing better than to see me dead, and the Treaty destroyed, for a whole variety of reasons. These unprincipled villains include certain elves on both sides who want war for personal and political reasons, who can't or won't forgive past slights… and then there are all those people who hate elves and would delight in the spectacle of our slaughtering each other. This very definitely includes the Nightside's current Overseer, Walker; who has set his people to harrying and threatening my progress. Apparently he has decided it is in Humanity's best interests that the elves remain divided and, preferably, destroy each other. A very… practical man, your Walker."

The elf stopped talking and looked at me. I considered the matter, taking my time. My first impulse was to get up and leave. Well, actually, get up and sprint for the exit. Getting involved with elves is never a good idea, and getting caught between two warring factions struck me as only marginally less dangerous than playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. There's just no way you can win. And on top of all that…

Never trust an elf.

I'd heard rumours about Queen Mab's return, and everything Screech had said had a dreadful plausibility to it, but he had to be lying about something, even if only by omission. Because that's what elves do.

"Why should I help you?" I said bluntly. "You and your kind have always been the enemies of Humanity. Maybe Walker's right. Maybe elf killing elf is in our best interests."

"What makes you think our war would take place in the Sundered Lands?" said Screech, smiling pleasantly. "No; we'd fight our battles in your world, where the extensive collateral damage wouldn't bother us in the least."

"Good point," I conceded. "All right; suppose I do take this on. How do you propose to pay me?"

"Not with any of the usual means of payment," said Screech. "You wouldn't trust any of them, and quite rightly.

"I propose to pay you… with information. I know something you don't know. Something that you definitely need to know. Because it involves a real and present danger to the whole of the Nightside and because it involves you personally. Something very old and very powerful and quite appallingly terrible has come to the Nightside. You'll know the name when I say it; though it isn't what you think it is. Get me safely across the Nightside to the Osterman Gate, and I'll give you its name. Believe me, John Taylor; you need to find this thing before anyone else does."

I looked at him thoughtfully, saying nothing. Never trust an elf…

"If you wanted to pass unnoticed through the Nightside," I said, finally, "why come as an elf and draw attention to yourself? Why not hide your true nature behind a glamour and pass yourself off as just another tourist?"