The Resident of Labrys Town received few visitors. Most of those who came to the Nightshade did so on official business – the heads of the merchant and industry guilds, gambling and entertainment councils – and these visitors could never hide their discomfort when seeing the metal plates covering their governor's eyes. They wondered how one weakened by blindness could attain such a lofty position as the Residency. They did not realise that there was more than one way in which a man might see, and the Resident of Labrys Town saw everything.

Van Bam stood alone in his observatory, deep inside the Nightshade. The room was alive with wispy imagery and spectral visions that filled his inner sight with myriad shades of grey. On the streets of Labrys Town, the ubiquitous eye devices took in streams of information at all times. The police used the eyes to watch the hidden corners of town, but ultimately all audio and visual information was fed to the Nightshade for the attention of the Resident.

Van Bam observed Samuel and Clara, and it was almost as though he stood out in the forecourt beside them. But the young changeling and the old bounty hunter were unaware of the Resident's presence. He watched as they boarded the Nightshade's official tram and set off through the tunnel, heading south towards the central district. Van Bam followed them, jumping through the eyes held in the hands of the statues lining Resident Approach; and then he overtook the tram and travelled across the world he governed. Drifting, flying almost, he weaved through the streets and back alleys as a phantom, the unseen watcher.

Labrys Town held a population of close to a million denizens. It was divided into five districts and covered two and a half thousand square miles of ground. The town was boxed in by the sheer boundary walls, a hundred feet high on all four sides. Beyond the boundary lay the endless twists and turns of the Great Labyrinth, where the Retrospective roamed, where even Van Bam's vision could not see. There was no escaping this place, not anymore. Labrys Town was all the denizens had, all they would ever have, and they knew they were being watched.

The districts were all but deserted in the cold early hours of Silver Moon. The streets were wet and few people walked them. To Van Bam's inner sight, all was as it should be. He continued to follow the eyes southward until reaching the central district and a plaza known as Watchers' Gallery, located at the exact centre of town. Inside the plaza stood square building that was the headquarters of the Labrys Town Police Force. Impressive in size, it was still much smaller than the Nightshade. Van Bam's vision entered the building, jumping through the eyes inside, until he reached the upper level and the office of Captain Jeter.

Jeter sat as his desk, working through a mountain of paperwork. He looked tired. Three empty cups before him were evidence of the coffee that was helping to keep him awake. The office now filled the observation room of the Nightshade as though Van Bam stood there before the desk, but it was only imagery, and he ensured that Jeter could not see him.

With a mental command, Van Bam activated the audio function. 'Working late, Captain?' he said.

Jeter started to his feet. He saluted his Resident, though in actuality the gesture was aimed at the eye device fixed to his office wall.

'Yes, sir,' the police captain said.

'It is good to see the denizens are in such dedicated hands. Please, be seated.'

'Thank you, sir.' Jeter took his chair again, but his body language remained stiff and formal and the dark lenses of his spectacles were concealing his eyes. Van Bam pursed his lips.

'I wish to speak with you, Captain, but first be so good as to remove your spectacles.'

Jeter did so hurriedly. Without their aid, his small, hazel eyes blinked and strained for focus.

Van Bam said, 'That's better.'

If one knew what signs to look for, the human face could give away much of what a person truly thought, of what they did not say – the eyes most especially. And who better to read those signs, to understand and detect the masking of what was real, than an illusionist?

'Do you have anything to report?' Van Bam continued.

'No, sir,' Jeter said. 'Our search for Charlie Hemlock is continuing, but we've hit nothing but dead ends so far.'

'That is hardly surprising, Captain. You may call off your efforts now. Charlie Hemlock is no longer your concern.'

Jeter frowned. 'And Fat Jacob, sir?'

'He will not be returning to the Lazy House.'

'Understood. I'll have the entertainment council terminate his license.'

'Thank you, Captain.'

'Sir, if I might, can I ask about the whore, Peppercorn Clara—'

'The matter is closed,' Van Bam responded sternly. 'Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir ...'

Jeter was a model denizen, an excellent choice as head of the police; but whenever he was addressed by his Resident, his uncertainty displaced the confident arrogance he usually displayed before others. His frustration was evident now, though he dare not argue with Van Bam. How could a matter the Resident had deemed so important just a few scant hours ago be concluded so suddenly without explanation? Jeter's face was alive with micro-expressions, easily read by Van Bam.

The Resident said, 'You are wondering at the reasons for my decision, yes?'

Jeter lowered his eyes. 'It's not my place to question you, sir.'

'No, it is not. Put your frustration to one side, Captain. A matter has arisen of which we must speak.'

Jeter looked up, his expression professional once more. 'Of course, sir.'

Van Bam paused, choosing his words carefully. 'A wild demon has entered Labrys Town.'

Jeter's expression fell, almost imperceptibly. His Resident's revelation was clearly a problem he did not need in these early hours. 'Understood,' he said. 'I'll organise a search and destroy party immediately.'

This was standard procedure on the rare occurrence of a wild demon venturing from the Retrospective and managing to pass through the boundary wall into town; but Jeter did not appreciate that this time it was no ordinary demon his Resident was talking about.

'No,' Van Bam said. 'You will double the street patrols, and police watchers will monitor the eyes at all times. I will coordinate the hunt personally.'

'Sir?'

'Captain, this demon is peculiarly gifted in magic. It will be hard to track and even harder to destroy. For that reason, I am reinstating the services of the Relic Guild.'

'The Relic Guild?' Jeter's surprise was obvious. Less apparent were the subtle shades of fear that opened his eyes fractionally wider.

'You heard me, Captain,' Van Bam said. 'You and your officers will pay every courtesy to my agents. You will not stand in the Relic Guild's way, but you will stand by as reinforcements should you be ordered. Do you understand?'

'Y-Yes, sir.'

'Good. You will watch and protect the denizens as always. Anything of the unusual is to be reported to me immediately. We must not underestimate the threat this demon poses.'

'Of course, sir.'

'Then you have your orders, Captain, and I bid you good night.'

Jeter jumped to his feet and saluted again. Van Bam said nothing further and withdrew his focus from the office, the police building and the plaza in which it stood. Once more his vision flowed through the eyes of Labrys Town.

Streets and buildings passed through his observation room, but Van Bam didn't know where he was heading and travelled in random directions across two and a half thousand square miles. Observing the town like this gave the Resident a sense of clarity and inner focus, and there was much on which he needed to meditate.

The dead stay dead, Clara had stated – if only that were true. The Relic Guild had stopped Fabian Moor once before, but things had been different back then, the organisation much stronger. Marney was missing, perhaps dead already; and that left two old men and an inexperienced young girl with the unenviable task of hunting Spiral's most dangerous general the last of the Genii.

As he continued to travel across Labrys Town with this daunting thought in mind, a man's voice suddenly spoke inside Van Bam's head with cold, pernicious tones.

Are you feeling lucky, my idiot?

Van Bam sighed, but didn't reply, and the voice added: Are you roaming the streets hoping you might catch Fabian Moor enjoying a night off? Doing his laundry, perhaps?

Van Bam felt his direction veer to take a new route through the eyes. He was not in control of this change, and not from choice did his motion stop halfway down a wide street on the outskirts of the central district.

He stood outside a four storey hospital. Inside, a receptionist spoke with an orderly. The lights from windows shone down onto the wet cobbles. Van Bam felt a moment of sadness, remembering Angel. Many years ago, in this hospital, she had doubled as a doctor.

The voice spoke again inside Van Bam's mind, and the cold tone was clearly amused: Brings back memories, doesn't it?

Why have you brought me here? Van Bam thought, but the voice didn't answer at first.

In the street before the Resident the figure of a man slowly materialised. His hair was short, and his gaunt face was shaded by stubble. He grinned lopsidedly, laconically, and his sunken eyes gleamed with menace.