"What is it this time?"

"A Wretched Recidivist currently enjoying New Newgate's hospitality decided that he feared me less than he feared the law. He gave the Constables information about my activities and connections that I prefer they not possess, in exchange for a reduced sentence. I want you to make him aware of his mistake. You don't need to kill him permanently, but I want you to hurt him very badly."

"Huh," he says. "All right. Should I tell him why, too?"

"I think he'll get the idea, but if the spirit takes you, feel free. When you've done that and found your Vake tooth, ask the Mirthless Gaoler if she knows the Seventh Letter, and she'll arrange for the relevant authorities to discover you were wrongly imprisoned."

"Huh. All right," he repeats, in a more thoughtful tone. "—also, if you want me to keep secrets you should tell me what I shouldn't say to who, I don't think I'm much good at them otherwise." He also thinks if she wants him to keep secrets she should not threaten him but he does not know how to deliver this insight in a non-counterproductive way.

"You don't strike me as someone who speaks to Constables with any regularity, but if you do, don't mention me. You don't know the kind of things the Recidivist did, anyway, and I plan to keep it that way."

"I expect I can manage that!"

"Excellent. Then, in six hours, you will be arrested and brought to New Newgate. I recommend you leave your mandrake with a friend, or at least an accomplice; it will be confiscated, otherwise, and the odds are not good that you would get it back when released."

"I'll find somewhere to put him." He can ask the Singer, and if she's not interested maybe he can introduce Edward to the Widow.

"Then I will bid you adieu, for now. -if you ever need me in the future and I don't happen to be lurking conveniently nearby, you can ask around for the Soulless Provocateuse at the University campus, and I'll hear about it and see what's up. But I think I'll be watching you for the foreseeable future. You've got interesting goals."

He laughs.

"Be seeing you, then!"

All right, how does the Singer feel about watching Edward for a bit while he goes and gets himself arrested?

The Singer squints at him, then shrugs. "I'll babysit him if you like. Call it ten pence for a day?"

"Suits me!"

How much of that can he cover in advance? It's not like he has any better uses for his money at the moment.

He can easily cover a week, even though if all goes well he'll be out in a day or so.

He goes for four days just in case, and promises that if disaster strikes and he somehow runs longer than that he'll make it up when he gets back. Then he hands over Edward and the jar of mud he sleeps in. "I'll miss you," he says, patting the mandrake on its lumpy little head.

Edward purrs. The Singer takes Edward and the mud jar and places them both on a coffee table. "I'll keep up with his lessons too, of course. Would you like to stay until they come for you? I've got tea and Murgatroyd's fungal crackers."

"That sounds lovely!"

She makes some tea and sets out a plate of crackers. The tea is pleasantly mellow, and the crackers are quite nice if you like mushroom.

"I think Edward is going to outgrow my tutelage fairly soon," the Singer comments between sips. "He's got a fine ear, and unlike a human child he doesn't forget what I teach him five minutes after I've taught it."

"Aww," he says. "Well now I'm proud of him."

Edward preens. The Singer strokes one of his fronds with a finger, causing him to preen even more.

"When do you think they'll come?" she asks idly. "I'm trying to think of ways to pass the time, but I don't know if I should be thinking Pachisi or honey-dream."

"I'm really not sure. What are honey-dreams like, anyway? I've never tried the stuff."

"They're lovely. You're transported to an impossible place, and you see the most amazing things... We can share a few drops after Edward's graduation, how's that?"

"Sure!"

"That's settled, then. Until then, would you like me to teach you Pachisi?"

"I'd be delighted!"