“I won’t have to. They will be left as ordinary mortals, while I will be filled with their powers.”

“Ah,” Pleasant said. “OK.”

“Now do you appreciate my vast and superior intelligence?”

Pleasant thought for a moment. “Yes,” he decided.

“Excellent. I’m sorry we can’t talk further, detective, but my Hour of Glory is at hand, and your death will be—”

“One more question.”

Scaramouch’s chin dropped to his chest. “What?” he asked bleakly.

“On the surface, this plot is fine. Drain the magic from others, and then use this magic to become all-powerful and unstoppable and take over the world. I can’t see anything wrong with that plot – in theory. But my question, Scaramouch, is how exactly are you going to achieve all this?”

Scaramouch picked his cloak off the ground, felt through it until he came to the cleverly concealed pocket. From this pocket he withdrew a small wooden box with a metal clasp.

He held the box for Pleasant to see. “Recognise this?”

Pleasant peered closer, examining the etchings in the wood. “Ohhh,” he said, impressed.

“Exactly. This container, enchanted with twenty-three spells from twenty-three mages, is one of the fabled Lost Artifacts. I have spent the last fifteen months tracking it down – and tonight, it is finally mine.”

“So it’s true, then?”

“Of course it’s true. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Pleasant’s head jerked up sharply. “You mean you haven’t checked it?”

Scaramouch suddenly felt a little foolish. “I… I don’t have to,” he said. “Everyone knows—”

“Oh, Scaramouch,” Pleasant said, disappointment in his voice.

“I just got it!” Scaramouch said defensively. “Literally, I just got it three hours ago!”

“And you haven’t checked it?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to capture you.”

Pleasant looked back at the box, and his head tilted thoughtfully. “If that is the box from the Lost Artifacts, and it certainly does look like it might be authentic, then it contains an insect with the power to drain magic at a bite.”

“Exactly.”

“Providing that insect is still inside.”

Scaramouch looked at the box. “There are no holes in it.”

“It’s been lost for three hundred years.”

“But the insect’s meant to live forever, right? It doesn’t need food or anything?”

“Well, that’s the legend. Can you hear it? You should be able to hear it buzzing around in there.”

Scaramouch shook the box, and held it up to his ear. “Nothing,” he said.

“Well, it’s a thick box,” Pleasant said. “You probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway.”

Scaramouch shook it again, then listened for any buzzing. Even a single buzz. Anything.

“Did you pay much for it?” Pleasant asked.

“The guy who found it, he needed to mount expeditions and things. It wasn’t cheap.”

“How much did he charge?”

“I, uh, I gave him everything I had.”

The detective went quiet.