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up as a master-criminal in a year.’
    ‘What’s tax?’ she asked, trying to keep on top of all the new information.
    ‘Tax is what you pay when you’ve got no other choice,’ he said bitterly, ‘so you effectively pay to live in here. Everyone is expected to pay the minimum of one groat every thirty days, and it’s a sliding scale dependant on how much you earn or thieve.’ Elli’s blank look forced him to explain further. ‘Look, say you make a hundred groats in thirty days, you’d then pay more than somebody who earned five. It’s fair in a way,’ he grumbled.
    ‘So who is in charge of checking how much everyone should pay?’ she asked. ‘What if you’re rich so you don’t earn money but have it already?’
    Rufus scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘I presume that they still pay and are forced at some point to earn some. Look, it’s all incidental anyway because people with that much money try not to declare it or else it’ll normally get stolen soon enough.’
    ‘But who has all this money? Where does it all go, the collected tax?’
    ‘That would be the Blemmyae Council,' he said in a loud whisper.
    Before she could ask any more the queue moved on and she found they were finally next in line. She looked over at the gendarme , each wearing a green jacket and pointed green hat, and every one had a sword and heavy wooden club. She’d only ever seen dog-heads in the Dogheadhood before, and she shuddered at the new sight of them. Suddenly they seemed huge and frightening, towering over people with their wolfish grins. She was used to humans being like this, carrying weapons and trying to instil fear, but dog-heads were safe and familiar to her. Perhaps like humans they were all capable of unleashing something else. She thought back to Rufus as he’d saved her in the fight, an awesome sight that scared those horrible children. She hadn't seen it at the time because he was protecting her.
    ‘When did you come here Rufus?’ she asked, finally braving the question.
    ‘I, er, used to live here, a long time ago. Probably best to talk about it when we’re inside,’ he said, placing his hand on her shoulder a little m ore firm ly than usual. The people in front went through the gates and they both walked up to the entrance booth where an alsatian dog-head stood to the side. She was wearing the green jacket and hat of the gendarme , and had leather boots with block hee ls that made her even taller.
    ‘Hello Rufus,’ she said in a husky growl. ‘Long time, no see.’
    ‘Josie!’ he exclaimed, suddenly standing very upright. ‘How have you been? You look...sorry, this is Elli. We want to come and stay for a while.’
    A monotone voice from inside the darkened booth said, ‘what is the purpose of your visit?’
    Rufus cleared his throat. ‘We’re here to visit friends of mine. And my Father, DH Maximillian of the Archways, Cannyngs.’
    ‘I see,’ came the monotone voice. ‘Any horses?’
    ‘Two,’ he replied, his mouth turned up as he grinned at Josie. ‘I had to leave in a hurry,’ he whispered, ‘I wanted to say goodbye.’
    ‘Why does a dog-head travel with a human girl?’ came the question, monotone but with slightly more emphasis now. Rufus paused.
    ‘I’m her guardian,’ he said to the darkened booth. ‘Her parents left her in my care.’ Josie coughed and he looked up.
    ‘And your name, girl?’ the voice asked.
    ‘I’m Elli,’ she answered, confused and tired. ‘And you are?’ She heard Rufus and Josie take a sharp intake of breath. The booth wobbled slightly and from it appeared a man-figure that Elli had heard stories about but had never quite believed until then. He was as tall as Rufus but had a smooth, straight line where his neck should connect to his shoulders. His head was positioned in the centre of his chest, as though his head and neck had been pushed into it. His skin was dark and golden and he reminded Elli of a tortoise, craning his neck this way and that