taking the unfortunate pixie with him. Doodah, it has to be said, did not look quite so cocky as he had a second ago.

'A d-dwarf,' he stammered. 'I thought your People didn't like the law.'

'Generally they don't. But Mulch is an exception. You don't mind if he doesn't answer you himself; he might accidentally bite your head off.'

Doodah squirmed suddenly. 'What's he doing?'

'I imagine he's licking you. Dwarf spittle hardens on contact with air. As soon as he opens his mouth, you'll be locked up tight as a chick in an egg.'

Mulch winked at Holly. It was about as much as he could gloat at the moment, but Holly knew that he would spend the next several days boasting about his skills.

Dwarfs can tunnel through kilometres of earth. Dwarfs have jet-powered rear ends. Dwarfs can produce two litres of rock spittle every hour. What have you got? Besides a famous face that keeps blowing our cover?

Holly peered into the hole, the toe of one boot hooked over the edge.

'OK, partner. Good job. Now, can you please spit out the fugitive.'

Mulch was happy to oblige. He hawked Doodah on to the lane's surface, then clambered up himself, rehingeing his jaw.

'This is disgusting,' moaned Doodah, as the viscous spittle solidified on his limbs. 'It stinks too.'

'Hey,' said Mulch, injured. 'The smell is not my fault. If you rented storage in a cleaner lane. .'

'Oh yeah, stinky? Well, this is what I think of you.' Doodah attempted a pixie hex gesture, but fortunately the rock spittle froze his arm before he could complete it.

'OK, you two. Cut it out,' said Holly. 'We have thirty minutes to get this little guy to the LEP before the spittle loosens up.'

Mulch peered over her shoulder towards the mouth of the lane. He turned suddenly pale underneath his coating of wet earth, and his beard hair bristled nervously.