“Just wanted you to be sure of what you’re getting into,” Molly said sweetly.

“Speaking of survival,” said Penny. “We need to get as many of the family as possible into the new silver torcs, as quickly as possible. We’re just too vulnerable to sudden attack, as things stand.”

I nodded reluctantly. “All right, you guys get together and draw up a list for me to consider. Those who should get their torcs right away, those who should but only after they’ve proved themselves worthy, and those who won’t ever be trusted with a torc again.”

“Such as?” said Penny, her cool eyes openly challenging me.

“Anyone who knew about the secret of the golden torcs and just went along with it,” I said sternly. “Any unrepentant Zero Tolerance, and anyone who’d more than likely use a torc to start a civil war within the family. Use your own best judgement. We’re only talking about a small percentage of scumbags, I hope. Strange, any problem with producing so much strange matter, for the torcs and armour, so quickly?”

“Please, call me Ethel.”

“Not if there was a gun to my head.”

“You can have as many silver torcs as you want, Eddie,” Strange said easily. “It’s just a matter of bringing more of me through from my home dimension. I am great and limitless, wise and wonderful . . . But you don’t really need torcs, you know. I could teach you all to be superhuman. You have such potential within you, you humans. To be far greater than any torc could ever make you. You could all shine like stars.”

I looked at the Inner Circle, and they looked at me.

“How long would this take?” I said.

“Years,” said Strange. “Generations, maybe. This whole consecutive time thing is a new concept to me.”

“I think we’ll stick with what we know, for now,” I said. “The family needs to be strong as quickly as possible. But by all means, consider the alternative, Strange, and let me know when you’ve got something more specific to tell me.”

“Oh goody!” said Strange. “This is going to be such fun!”

“Any other matters?” I said quickly.

“Just one,” said the Armourer. He produced a small object wrapped in white samite from under his lab coat and passed it to me. I accepted and then unwrapped it with great care and caution. Gifts from the Armourer have a tendency to be downright dangerous, if not actually explosive. The object turned out to be a simple hand mirror, with a silver frame and handle. I hefted it a few times cautiously, just in case, but nothing happened. And the face in the mirror was quite definitely mine, so . . . I looked inquiringly at the Armourer.