“More likely he’s up to something,” growled the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Ever since he’d been outed as a Cyril, his voice had taken on a distinctly lower tone. “No doubt something foul and appalling, which he will find terribly amusing.”

“Jacob can look after himself,” I said firmly. “I’m sure he’ll turn up when he’s needed. Whether we want him to or not. In the meantime, Penny tells me that you’ve finally agreed on a list of prospective candidates for the new torcs.”

“Yes, finally,” said the Armourer, glaring round impartially. “Fifty names have been arrived at, decided by due process, and after much deliberation, shouting, and hair-pulling.”

“Which means,” the Sarjeant said heavily, “that it’s time to talk about launching our first attack. We need to put on a massive show of force, as soon as possible. Prove to the world that we’re strong and united, and still a force to be reckoned with.”

“No,” Penny said immediately. “We’re not ready yet. We need more time, more training, and a hell of a lot more than fifty torcs before we can successfully put a force in the field.”

“They looked pretty good to me just now,” I said mildly. “And for once, I am forced to agree with the Sarjeant. Quick, someone take a photo. We need to do something big and aggressive, and we need to do it now. Some politicians, and other enemies, are growing increasingly restless. Reports are coming in from all over the world, of sabre rattling between countries, of invasions and excursions into disputed territories, that would never have happened in the old days, when we still ruled with a golden fist and made everyone play nice. And then there are all the usual suspects, stirring up trouble here and there just to test the waters and see what they can get away with. Dr. Delirium, the Cold Eidolon, and Truman in his new base, wherever that is, and I can’t believe we still haven’t got a decent line on that yet. Remind me to kick someone’s arse about that. No, people, we have to do something right now. Strike some shock and awe into our enemies; prove we’re still in the game and that bad boys will be severely spanked.”

“Then pick a target,” said the Sarjeant. “Anyone, as long as they’re a danger. You’re the one who kept going on about the Loathly Ones . . .”

“This is all moving too quickly,” Penny said stubbornly. “Move before we’re ready, and it could all backfire. We can’t afford for the world to learn just how weak we really are.”

“How will you know when you’re ready?” Molly said reasonably. “Training can only do so much. Eventually you’ve got to kick the little birdies out of the nest and see whether they fly.”