"Not at all," Solomon said, and didn't move into the room because he had the distinct impression he was about to leave it. "If you'd label the computer's on-button for me, I'd be ever so grateful."

"I offered to turn it on for you," Dexter complained. "What's wrong with my on-turning skills?"

"I didn't want it to blow up in my face," Solomon answered deadpan, and lifted his hand as Dexter grumbled wordlessly and then bowed toward China.

"You're underestimating my contacts, China dear! And it was fine. Really spiffing. Met a new friend in a bar who told me the exciting stuff was happening back home, though, so I decided to hotfoot it back here. I mean, finding out who could talk Corrival into becoming Grand Mage? That's a secret worth returning for."

"Speaking of," Solomon interjected, his eyes on China, "should I call the Crossword Puzzler Extraordinaire, or are there other preparations that need to be done before I have to risk my head being bitten off?"

He wasn't sure what it was that was alerting him. Something in the vibration of her web, perhaps. Something excited, a low-level excitement of anticipation and satisfaction of a job well done, and a ripple that spread from him and past him to the Cleavers outside the door.