“The department secretary told us we could find you here, ” said

Merlin, speaking through Billy. “Don’t you ever keep office hours?”

“What for?” said Makepeace. “If I keep office hours, I’ll only have

the students coming in to bug me. It’s bad enough I’m forced to

teach those little pismires, the thought of advising them is

insufferable.”

“I thought you didn’t like pigeons, ” Wyrdrune said.

“I don’t, ” said Makepeace, moving his considerable bulk up off

the bench. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

“Then what…?”

Suddenly Wyrdrune heard a muffled pop behind him. Then

another, and another, and another and another and another…

He turned and saw the pigeons bounding up into the air and

turning somersaults, making sounds like muffled strings of

firecrackers going off. Their breasts began to swell until they all

looked like inflated, feathered volleyballs, bouncing all over the

place.

“What the ‘ell…?” said Billy.

“Popcorn?” Wyrdrune said.

“My special recipe. Pops in your gut, not in your pan, ”

Makepeace said. “I thought it would be more filling than

breadcrumbs. More filling, get it?” He clackled.

“You’re a sick man, Sebastian.”

“That’ll teach them to mess on my beret, ” said Makepeace with a

scowl. “It’s getting so a man can’t walk anywhere in this city

without being bombarded. Pernicious little creatures…”

“Sebastian, we’ve got a problem…”

“Dragons in the mind, eh?”

Wyrdrune came to a sudden stop. “How did you know?”

“I know all and see all, ” Makepeace said.

“E’s ‘ad the same bloody dreams ’imself, ” said Billy.

“And I’ve had the same bloody dreams myself, ” admitted

Makepeace. “I’ve been expecting you to get in touch.”