‘And keep the noise down!’ Smeems bellowed. ‘Do you want to be a dribbler forthe rest of your life?’

‘Actually, I quite like being a dribbler, sir—’

‘Ha! Want of ambition is the curse of the labouring class! Here, give me thatthing!’

The Candle Knave snatched at the ladder just as his luckless assistant closedit.

‘Sorry about that, sir… ’

‘There’s always room for one more on the wick-dipping tank, you know,’ saidSmeems, blowing on his knuckles.

‘Fair enough, sir.’

The Candle Knave stared at the grey, round, guileless face. There was anunshakeably amiable look about it that was very disconcerting, especially whenyou knew what it was you were looking at. And he knew what it was, oh yes, butnot what it was called.

‘What’s your name again? I can’t remember everybody’s name.’

‘Nutt, Mister Smeems. With two t’s.’

‘Do you think the second one helps matters, Nutt?’

‘Not really, sir.’

‘Where is Trev? He should be on tonight.’

‘Been very ill, sir. Asked me to do it.’

The Candle Knave grunted. ‘You have to look smart to work above stairs, Nutts!’

‘Nutt, sir. Sorry, sir. Was born not looking smart, sir.’

‘Well, at least there’s no one to see you now,’ Smeems conceded. ‘All right,follow me, and try to look less… well, just try not to look.’

‘Yes, master, but I think—’

‘You are not paid to think, young… man.’

‘Will try not to do so, master.’

Two minutes later Smeems was standing in front of the Emperor, watched by asuitably amazed Nutt.

A mountain of silvery-grey tallow almost filled the isolated junction of stonecorridors. The flame of this candle, which could just be made out to be amega-candle aggregated from the stubs of many, many thousands of candles thathad gone before, all dribbled and runnelled into one great whole, was a glownear the ceiling, too high to illuminate anything very much.