“Just what they need in Iceland,” muttered Foaly. “More ice makers.”

“Ah, but a very special ice maker,” said Artemis, opening the fridge door. “One that can save the glaciers.”

“Does it make Popsicles too?” asked the centaur innocently, wishing his old buddy Mulch Diggums was there so they could high-five, a practice so puerile and outmoded that it would be sure to drive Artemis crazy, if he weren’t already crazy.

“You said this was a demonstration,” snapped Vinyáya. “So demonstrate.”

Artemis shot Foaly a poisonous look. “With great pleasure, Commander. Observe.”

Inside the container sat a squat chrome contraption, which resembled a cross between a top-loader washing machine and a stubby cannon, apart from the jumble of wires and chips nestled under the bowl.

“The Ice Cube is not pretty, I grant you,” said Artemis, priming the equipment with an infrared signal shot from the sensor on his phone. “But I thought better to get production moving along than spend another month tidying the chassis.” They formed a ragged ring around the device, and Artemis could not help thinking that had a satellite been observing the group, they would have looked like children playing a game.

Vinyáya’s face was pale and her teeth chattered, though the temperature was barely below freezing. Chilly in human terms, a lot more uncomfortable for a fairy.

“Come on, human. Switch this Ice Cube thing on. Let’s get the dwarf on the mudslide.”

A fairy expression that Artemis was not familiar with, but he could guess what it meant. He glanced at his phone.

“Surely, Commander. I will certainly launch the first pouch of nano-wafers just as soon as whatever unidentified craft is passing through the airspace moves on.”

Holly consulted her visor readout communicator. “Nothing in the airspace, Mud Boy. Nothing but a shielded shuttle full of hurt for you, if you’re trying to pull some kind of trick.”