‘Randolph, fourteenth Earl of Pembridge, told me Dragondeath Sunday at noon,’ I said, feeling a thumping pulse in my temples. ‘As Lady Mawgon has so graphically pointed out, you don’t need me to make the decision for you, and no, I’m not Mr Zambini and we don’t know when or if he’s coming back. But as long as my name is Jennifer Strange I won’t help ConStuff profit by Maltcassion’s death. And what’s more,’ I went on, my anger suddenly making me impetuous, ‘you can find a new acting head of Kazam if you do. I’ll work out the rest of my servitude helping Unstable Mabel and mucking out the Mysterious X when he has another one of his episodes.’

There was silence when I’d finished, and they all looked at one another uneasily. Powerful they might be, but when things get bad, even sorcerers need leadership.

‘I think we should put it to a vote,’ said Moobin.

‘There won’t be a vote,’ said Lady Mawgon, reaching for the cheque. ‘Our path has never been so clear.’

‘Touch that cheque without a vote and I’ll newt you,’ said Moobin.

It was quite a threat. Being changed into a newt was a spell a wizard would only use as a last resort. It was irreversible and technically murder. But Lady Mawgon thought he was bluffing. After all, it took a lot of power to newt someone.

‘Your days of newting were over long ago,’ she said.

‘Lead into gold, Lady Mawgon, lead into gold.’

Wizard Moobin and Lady Mawgon stared at each other, not wanting to make the first move. Spells were never instantaneous, and required a modicum of hand movements. The thing was, whoever made the first move was the aggressor. If you moved first and newted someone, you were a murderer. Move last and it was self-defence. There was silence in the room as the two of them continued to stare at one another, hardly daring to blink. A week ago this would have been a hollow threat, and even though neither of them had newted anyone for decades, the increased background wizidrical energy and the fact that it was early morning meant that such a thing was possible.

The Remarkable Kevin Zipp broke the stand-off.

‘No one’s going to newt anyone.’

Mawgon and Moobin looked mildly relieved at Zipp’s pronouncement. After all, neither of them wanted to be a murderer – the punishment is particularly nasty.

‘How strong was the premonition?’ I asked.

‘Oh, it wasn’t a premonition,’ he confessed with a grin. ‘I was just listening in to Master Prawn’s phone conversation.’

We all turned to look at Tiger as he placed the handset back on its cradle.

‘That was the news desk at the UKBC,’ he said. ‘I just told them the time and date of the Dragondeath.’

‘You did what?’