Stem-Fulcher spoke carefully. “Do we understand yet,” she ventured, “what happened?”

Rudgutter shrugged brusquely.

“We presented the evidence of the militia who saw the Weaver and heard what it said to Kapnellior. I’ve been trying to contact the thing, and I’ve had one curt, incomprehensible reply . . . It was scribbled in soot on my mirror. All we can say for sure is that it thought it improved the pattern of the worldweb to abduct der Grimnebulin and his friends from under our noses. We don’t know where it’s gone or why. Whether it’s left them alive. Anything really. Although Kapnellior’s quite confident it’s still hunting the moths.”

“What about the ears?” asked Stem-Fulcher.

“I have no idea!” shouted Rudgutter. “It made the web prettier! Obviously! So now we have twenty terrified, one-eared militia in the infirmary!” He calmed a little. “I have been thinking. It’s my belief that part of our problem is that we started with plans that were too grand. We’ll keep trying to locate the Weaver, but in the meantime we’re going to have to rely on less ambitious methods of moth-hunting. We are going to put together a unit of all our guards, militia, and scientists who have had any dealings with the creatures. We’re putting together a specialist squad. And we are going to do it in conjunction with Motley.” Stem-Fulcher and Rescue looked at him and nodded.

“It’s necessary. We’re pooling our resources. He has trained men, as do we. We have set procedures in motion. He will have his units, and we will have ours, but they will operate in tandem. Motley and his men have an unconditional amnesty on all criminal activity while we conduct this operation.

“Rescue . . .” said Rudgutter quietly. “We need your particular skills. Quietly, of course. How many of your . . . kin do you think you can mobilize within a day? Knowing the nature of the operation . . . It is not without its dangers.”

MontJohn Rescue fingered his scarf again. He made a peculiar noise under his breath. “Ten or so,” he said.

“You’ll receive training, of course. You’ve worn a mirror-guard before, I think?” Rescue nodded. “Good. Because the sentience model of your kind is . . . broadly similar to a human’s, is it not? Your mind is as tempting to the moths as mine. Whatever your host?”

Rescue nodded again.

“We dream, Mr. Mayor,” he said in his flattened voice. “We can be prey.”

“I understand that. Your—and your kin’s—bravery will not go unnoticed. We will provide whatever we can to ensure your safety.” Rescue nodded without visible emotion. He stood slowly.

“Time being of such importance, I’ll make a start now on spreading the word.” He bowed. “You will have my squad by sundown tomorrow,” he said. He turned and left the room.

Stem-Fulcher turned to Rudgutter with pursed lips.