They closed the door on the BoyStarz.

“Good-bye, little men,” said a voice. It might have been Starlight’s. Nobody knew for certain. They all looked the same.

Except for Phil.

And through the door came the sound of four voices singing loudly, if not terribly well, about how love was like a little man.

• • •

The dwarfs sat in Dan’s office and thought about their future. It looked bleak.

“This is terrible,” said Jolly. “We’re broke, and we have a talent-free talent agency.”

“Maybe we could sell the BoyStarz into slavery,” said Angry.

“They wouldn’t make very good slaves,” said Jolly. “They’re too delicate. Except for Phil.”

He looked at Dan.

“So?” he said. “Is there by any chance a job for the BoyStarz in the newspaper?”

Dan beamed at him. At last, a bit of good luck.

“No,” he replied, “but there’s a job for all four of you!”

21. This is how parliaments work.

VIII

In Which the Forces of Law and Order Encounter the Forces of Lawlessness and Disorder

SERGEANT ROWAN AND CONSTABLE Peel were enjoying a nice pot of tea and a couple of pea-and-pork pies at Pete’s Pies. The sun was shining, the pies were good, and all was well with the world.

“Hello, Sergeant,” said a passerby, walking his dog. “Criminals taking a day off today, are they?”

Sergeant Rowan smiled. When he chose to use it, he had a smile like a fatal gunshot.

“Do you have a license for that dog?” he said, and the man hurried quickly along.

Constable Peel sipped his tea.

“Do you think criminals actually take days off, Sarge?” said Constable Peel. “I mean, if they’re on holiday and someone leaves a car unlocked or a wallet unattended, do criminals think, ‘No, I’m not stealing that, I’m on my holidays’?”

Since he’d been dragged to Hell, and then escaped, Constable Peel had begun to take a different view of life. His belief was that any day that didn’t involve demons, the undead, or being hauled off to Hell was a good day as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t know, Constable, but here comes a criminal. Let’s ask him.”

Sergeant Rowan stretched out a hand and gripped a passing dwarf by the collar.

“Bless my soul,” he said. “If it isn’t Mr. Jolly Smallpants, off to find something that isn’t nailed down.”

“All right, Sergeant Rowan. Always nice to see you,” lied Jolly, his toes almost touching the ground.

“My colleague here was wondering if criminals ever take holidays,” said Sergeant Rowan. “I thought you might be able to help him with an answer.”

Jolly thought about the question.

“I once stole a yacht. Does that count?”

Sergeant Rowan reminded himself never to shake hands with Jolly Smallpants, or, if he did, to count his fingers afterward just to make sure that they were all still there.

“When I said ‘taking’ a holiday, I did not mean stealing one,” he said. “I meant spending time not engaged in criminal behavior, if you could imagine such a thing.”