‘Sorry.’ Greeneye, Hoff and Serif ran off in different directions around the perimeter of the house. August sighed and spoke into the cone again. ‘You have thirty of your Earth minutes.’ He switched off the machine and smiled at Aphasia.

‘I’ve always wanted to say that.’

Aphasia aimed her gun at the roof of the school and fired. The recoil sent her flying backwards.

Concerned, August helped her up, glancing over his shoulder at the plume of smoke spiralling from the guttering above. ‘Sniper?’

‘Gargoyle.’ Aphasia explained. ‘I hate gargoyles.’

Timothy was watching from a tree in the orchard. He closed his eyes hard as if to banish a dream. So his magical prize wasn’t something destiny had given him. It was something mean enough to be struggled over. The people in the courtyard, the Aubertides, natives of the planet Aubis. The Aubertide Queen lays eggs every hundred years, and the King fertilizes them in the ground. The new Aubertides bud to reproduce. You have to find out who’s the eldest and talk to them. They like citrus fruit, but they can eat anything, and they’re usually terribly friendly. Timothy blinked again, it was as if he’d just made up all that about them. The people in the courtyard were going to destroy the school.

Let them. Let it burn. What he had was worth much more.

No, that was a wicked thought. The lives of all his⁠ — no, not his friends, his enemies. The lives of his enemies were worth more than his happiness.

He gathered all his resolve together. He had to do something.

At the appropriate moment, that inner voice told him. Timing was everything.

Rocastle shouted again. ‘Silence!’

The yelling mass of boys and teachers actually quietened. Rocastle had raised himself to his full height and he was actually looking at them proudly, with a slight smile on his features. ‘Very good. Now, does anybody know what that was all about?’

Silence. Benny looked quickly at Smith and was about to say something, but by the time she’d thought of anything that Rocastle would find even remotely reasonable, he’d turned to one of the other masters. ‘Thought not. Mr Moffat, you always have a fine white handkerchief about you. Here⁠ —’ He picked up the cane he’d propped on the lectern and handed it to the teacher. ‘Wave it from the window, and tell these… Aubertides… Greeks, I think, that we don’t know what they’re talking about, but if they’re willing, I’ll pop out and have a chat and we can sort it out. All right?’

Benny turned to Alexander. ‘That’s just what I’d have done,’ she whispered.

‘Rocastle’s not as stupid as he looks.’