Blondel looked down at him. 'What do you mean, one-way street?

'Well,' Marco said, marshalling his thoughts and hoping he was remembering this right, 'it means that if it's a north-south-only street, you can go from north to south but not south to north. If it's a south-north-only street, it means you can go from south to north but not north to south. If it's...'

Marco suddenly found that his cap had somehow left his head and got wedged in his mouth. He took it out again.

'Is it a one-way street, Marco?' Blondel asked.

'Yes,' Marco replied, 'didn't you see the signs? It's a west-east-only street, that means you can go -'

'Yes, thank you,' Blondel replied, 'eat your nice hat now, there's a good lad. Silly of me not to have noticed, wasn't it?' It made sense, after all. There was a serious risk that going through a No Entry sign in this particular context might result in something rather worse than a fine and two penalty points. He pulled himself together, chirruped softly to the horse, and moved the cart forwards.

'You're late again,' said Mountjoy. 'What kept you?'

'Got held up in traffic,' Blondel improvised. 'Anyway, I'm here now.

Mountjoy flickered like a portable television in a thunderstorm. He hated getting wet; the last thing he needed to do at his time of life was to fuse. 'Can we get on with it, then?'

'You've come alone, then, like we agreed?'

'Of course I have,' Mountjoy replied wearily. 'For a start, n.o.body else'd be crazy enough to come out in this weather. Are they in the back?'

Blondel nodded. 'Want to check the merchandise?' he asked. This too was traditional.

'I trust you,' Mountjoy replied. 'I mean,' he added, 'if you can't trust slippery, devious little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, who can you trust?'

'Very true,' Blondel replied. 'But, since you're none of those things, I'd be grateful if you'd just lift that tarpaulin there.

Muttering, Mountjoy did so. There was a loud protest in a distinctive female voice as rain came into the back of Mountjoy's cart. They were there all right.

'Any problems getting here?' Blondel asked.

'No,' Mountjoy replied suspiciously. 'Why?'

'Because every time I drive her anywhere,' Blondel replied, 'it's Shouldn't you be in third gear? and I'm sure that was the turning back there on the left all the b.l.o.o.d.y way. You must tell me how you managed it some time. Ready?'

'Ready.'

Mountjoy waved his hand. Pursuivant and Mordaunt jumped down and pulled two anthropomorphic bundles out of the cart. There was a b.u.mp as they hit the ground.

'That's fine,' Blondel said quietly. 'Giovanni, Marco, Iachimo, give me a hand, will you?'

The Galeazzos unloaded their cargo, plus a free simulated calf attache case and solar calculator each, and laid them on the damp roadway. The two carts moved forward a few paces and took on their new respective cargoes.

'Right,' Blondel said. 'That's that, then. Pleasure doing business with

'Seize them!'

Blondel gave Mountjoy a very brief look of utter contempt, and then cracked the reins sharply. A moment later, his cart was surrounded by dark shapes; looming, ominous shapes, all the more disturbing because their visors were down over their ...

'Look, Guy!' Blondel shouted. 'Hats! Iron hats! Lots and lots of them!'

There was a loud crack, and the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the crest of a helmet. A dark shape swore loudly and ran for its life. Or at least its five-hundred-year parts and labour warranty. The cart lurched forward and trundled off.

'After them!' Mountjoy yelled. The dark shapes stayed exactly where they were, all apart from one, who was wandering around b.u.mping into things. Later they explained that you can't hear a d.a.m.n thing inside those bleeding steel helmets.

From the back of Mountjoy's cart came a loud and authoritative protest. You'd have had no problem hearing it through six inches of plate steel.

'Good,' it added. 'Now don't just stand there, get after them.'

'Do you know,' Blondel said, as the cart thundered down the road, 'I'm getting just the teeniest bit sick and tired of all this running about and being chased by people, aren't you?'

Guy nodded. He was more than the teeniest bit sick at the way the cart was lurching about, too, but it seemed so long since he'd eaten anything that that was probably academic. He found what seemed to be a handrail and clung on to it fiercely.

'Ouch,' said Marco.

'Sorry,' Guy said, letting go of his ear. 'What are you doing down there?'

'I'm looking for my cap,' Marco replied. 'It fell off when we -'

'Forget it.'

'But it's nearly new,' Marco said. 'It's got a feather on it and -'

'I said,' Guy repeated, 'forget it.

The cart went over a pothole rather too fast, sending everyone up in the air about six inches. There was a cracking sound and a great deal of turbulence. Then the cart stopped.

'The axle's snapped,' Giovanni said. 'Now I bet you're glad you decided to have the Fully Comprehensive.

'Shut up, Giovanni,' Blondel said, 'and you, Isoud.'

'I didn't say a -'

'Then don't.' Blondel jumped down from the box. The

lanterns of Mountjoy's cart weren't far behind. 'Come on,' he shouted, 'this way.'

'Why this way?' Isoud said. 'Look -'

'I think we should turn right.'

'Look-'

'It says on the map -'

'This way!'