'They've piled them up in a magic circle downstairs,' said Susan.

     Violet's eyes and mouth formed  three Os. It was like looking at a pink bowling ball.

     'What for?'

     'I think they're using them to control the children. By magic.'

     Violet's mouth opened wider.

     'That's horrid.'

     Horrible, thought Susan. The word is 'horrible'. 'Horrid' is a childish word selected to impress nearby males with one's fragility, if  I'm any judge. She  knew  it was unkind and counterproductive of her to think like that. She also knew it was probably an accurate observation, which only made it worse.

     'Yes,' she said.

     'There was a wizard! He's got a pointy hat!'

     'I think we should get her out of here,' said the oh god, in a tone  of voice that Susan considered was altogether too dramatic.

     'Good idea,' she conceded. 'Let's go.'

     Catseye's boots  had snapped their laces. It was as if he'd been pulled upwards so fast they simply couldn't keep up.

     That worried Medium  Dave. So did the smell. There was no  smell at all in the  rest of  the tower,  but  just  here there  was a lingering odour of mushrooms.

     His forehead wrinkled.  Medium  Dave was a thief  and  a  murderer  and therefore had a highly developed moral sense. He preferred not to steal from poor people, and not only because they never had anything worth stealing. If it  was necessary to hurt anyone, he tried  to leave wounds that would heal. And when in the course of his activities he had to kill people then  he made some effort to see  that they did  not suffer much or  at least made  as few noises as possible.

     This whole business was getting on his nerves. Usually, he didn't  even notice that he had any.

     There was a wrongness to everything that grated on his bones.

     And a pair of boots was all that remained of old Catseye.

     He drew his sword.

     Above him, the creeping shadows moved and flowed away.

     Susan edged up to the entrance  to the stairways and peered around into the point of a crossbow.

     'Now,  all  of  you  step  out  where  I  can  see  you.'  said  Peachy conversationally. 'And don't touch that  sword, lady. You'll  probably  hurt yourself.'

     Susan tried to make herself unseen, and failed. Usually it was so  easy to  do  that  that  it happened  automatically,  usually  with  embarrassing results. She could be idly reading a book while people searched the room for her. But  here,  despite  every effort, she  seemed  to  remain  obstinately visible.

     'You don't own this place,' she said, stepping back.

     'No, but you see this crossbow?  I own this crossbow. So  you just walk ahead of me, right, and we'll all go and see Mister Teatime.'

     'Excuse me, I just  want to check something,' said Bilious.  To Susan's amazement he leaned over and touched the point of the arrow.

     'Here! What did you do that for?' said Peachy, stepping back.

     'I felt it, but of course a certain amount of pain  sensation would  be part of normal sensory response,' said  the oh god. 'I  warn you, there's  a  very good chance that I might be immortal.'

     'Yes, but we probably aren't,' said Susan.

     'Immortal, eh?' said Peachy. 'So  if I was to shoot you inna head,  you wouldn't die?'

     'I suppose when you put it like that... I do know I feel pain...'

     'Right. You just keep moving, then.'

     'When something happens,' said  Susan, out of the corner  of her mouth, 'you two try to get downstairs and out, all right? If the worst comes to the worst, the horse will. take you out of here.'

     'If something happens,' whispered the oh god.

     'When,' said Susan.

     Behind them, Peachy looked around. He knew  he'd feel a lot better when any of the others turned up. It was almost a relief to have prisoners.

     Out of the corner of her eye  Susan saw something move on the stairs on the  opposite side  of the shaft.  For a  moment she thought she saw several flashes like metal blades catching the light.

     She heard a gasp behind her.

     The man  with the crossbow was  standing very still and  staring at the opposite stairs.

     'Oh, noooo,' he said, under his breath.

     'What is it?' said Susan.

     He stared at her. 'You can see it too?'

     'The thing like a lot of blades clicking together?' said Susan.

     'Oh, nooo...'

     'It was only there for a moment,' said Susan.

     'It's gone now,' she said. 'Somewhere else,' she added.

     'It's the Scissor Man . .

     'Who's he?' said the oh god.

     'No one!' snapped Peachy, trying to pull himself together. 'There's  no such thing as the Scissor Man, all right?'

     'Ah... yes. When you were little, did you suck your thumb?' said Susan. 'Because the only Scissor  Man I know is  the  one  people used to  frighten children with. They said he'd turn up and...'

     'Shutupshutupshutup!'  said Peachy, prodding  her  with  the  crossbow. 'Kids believe all kinds of crap! But I'm grown up now, right, and I can open beer bottles with other people's teeth an- oh, gods...'

     Susan heard the snip, snip. It sounded very close now.

     Peachy had his eyes shut.

     'Is there anything behind me?' he quavered.

     Susan  pushed the others aside and waved frantically towards the bottom of the stairs.

     'No,' she said, as they hurried away.

     'Is there anything standing on the stairs at all?'

     'No.'

     'Right! If you see  that one-eyed bastard you tell him he  can keep the money!'

     He turned and ran.

     When Susan turned to go up the stairs the Scissor Man was there.

     It wasn't man-shaped. It was something like an ostrich, and  something  like  a lizard  on  its  hind legs, but almost entirely like something  made out of blades.  Every time it moved a thousand blades went snip, snip.

     Its  long silver  neck curved and a head made of shears stared  down at her.

     'You're not looking for me,' she said. 'You're not my nightmare.'

     The blades tilted  this way  and that.  The Scissor Man  was  trying to think.

     'I remember you came for  Twyla,' said  Susan, stepping  forward. 'That damn governess had told her  what  happens  to little  girls who  suck their thumbs, remember?  Remember  the poker? I bet you needed a hell of a lot  of sharpening afterwards...'

     The creature lowered  its head,  stepped  carefully  around her  in  as polite  a  way as  it could manage, and  clanked on  down the  stairs  after Peachy.

     Susan ran on towards the top of the tower.

     Sideney  put a  green filter over his lantern and  pressed  down with a small silver  rod that had  an emerald  set on its tip. A  piece of the lock moved. There was a whirring from inside the door and something went click.

     He sagged  with  relief.  It  is  said  that  the prospect  of  hanging concentrates the  mind  wonderfully,  but  it was Valium  compared  to being watched by Mister Teatime.

     'I,  er, think that's the third lock,'  he  said. 'Green light  is what opens  it. I remember the fabulous lock of the Hall  of Murgle,  which could only be opened by the Hubward wind, although that was...'

     'I commend your expertise,' said Teatime. 'And the other four?'

     Sideney looked up nervously at the silent bulk of Banjo, and licked his lips.

     'Well,  of course, if  I'm  right,  and  the  locks  depend  on certain conditions,  well,  we could be  here  for years...' he ventured. 'Supposing they can only be opened by, say, a small blond  child holding a mouse?  On a Tuesday? In the rain?'