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your heart out to get that book and I want to be here, standing in your way every time.”

“But…but why would you do that?”

“Because I might not be able to see much, these days, but I can see the pain on your face very clearly. Because I enjoy seeing that look. Because knowing I am standing in the way of your dreams and ambitions, the way everyone stood in the way of mine, gives me life! And if the occasional trip into town means I get all that, then it’s a price I’m willing to pay, and you will never, ever get what you want!”

With that, he once again slammed the door in her face. Hard.

*****

Well, that was it for my mother. She had tried to be kind; she had tried to help. She had shown, I freely confess, gentle reader, far more patience than I would have in her place. Now she was done. Renjaf was a bitter, twisted, horrible old man, and she was done playing nice. She was angrier than she had ever been in her life, but through that anger came a smile – a dark, dangerous smile – because he had made a mistake.

Logically, if Renjaf wouldn’t give her the book, she’d just have to take it. Unfortunately, the wizard’s tower had excellent defences against intruders, and it would take her some time to probe for weaknesses and find a way to sneak in. To do that, though, she would need the recluse to leave his home – her druid magic may be growing, but she didn’t fancy going up against an enraged wizard. Up until now, Cat had been unable to imagine anything making Renjaf leave his tower, but he had just told her that whenever there was a demon attack, he would definitely do exactly that, just to spite her. So, it was clear that this was precisely what she needed: another demon attack.

*****

“And how exactly do you plan to arrange that?” Jacob demanded, later, when she told him her idea. “Make a pact with a wizard who’s an expert in summoning demons? Put innocent people in danger just so you can get your book?”

“No, of course not,” Cat replied, “but that demon clause in your contract covers any kind of demon, not just the dangerous ones, right?”

Jacob insisted they were all dangerous, but Cat disputed that.

“What about Tricksters?” she asked. “They’re more of a pest and a nuisance than dangerous, wouldn’t you say?”

If there was a layer missing in my Great Cosmic Sandwich, gentle reader, it’s the Tricksters – the mayonnaise of the cosmic planes. Some people actually liked Tricksters with their pranks and their mischief while others hated them more than hell itself. No-one was sure where they even came from, whether from a higher or lower plane or somewhere else entirely. They didn’t appear to have any ill intent beyond causing random acts of chaos that they seemed to find hilarious. They’re like that relative or co-worker who adores practical jokes and doesn’t seem to understand that not everybody thinks they’re funny. And like those practical jokes, they can on rare occasions get out of hand and go dangerously wrong, which is why they are legally classed as demons.

“Tricksters could be enough to stop my deliveries – there have been instances of them stealing parcels before – but it's entirely discretionary on the part of the delivery person.”

“I can work with that,” said Cat.

“But how do you propose to summon a Trickster?” Jacob asked.

“Tricksters aren’t really summoned. They just appear because they feel like it.”

“So again, how—”

“—Don’t you see?” gasped an exasperated Catriona. “I don’t need to summon a Trickster…” she shapeshifted in front of her friend.

At about four feet tall with skin the colour and texture of coral, bulbous, squid-like head with tentacles for hair and a mischievous grin, Jacob had to admit she did make a pretty convincing Trickster demon.

“I can become one!” Cat finished, redundantly. “All I have to do is run around Compton like this for a couple of days, and people will think there’s a real Trickster.”

She changed back to her usual self. She didn’t much like being a Trickster demon, but she would do it if it meant she could finally get her hands on Shifting Stars.

“I don’t even need to do anything much. Maybe knock the odd rubbish bin over, grab people’s washing off the line and swap it with next door’s. Silly things; nothing dangerous. And if it just so happened to be a day when you’re supposed to be delivering to Renjaf…”

“…Then he’ll leave his tower and come into town,” Jacob concluded. “But you can’t be in Compton and at his tower at the same time,” he pointed out.

“Don’t need to be,” she countered. “You know what it’s like when a Trickster turns up – people start blaming it for everything!”

She was quite right, gentle reader, and it’s still the same a thousand years later. A gust of wind blows some rubbish bins over, it’s the Trickster. A freak rain shower ruins a garden party, or someone misplaces their keys, it’s the Trickster. That’s people for you – all this time, all the progress, and they never really change.

“So, what exactly is your plan?” Jacob wondered, with some trepidation.

“Well, I realise my plans don’t always work perfectly…” she began.

“How very self-aware of you!” Jacob returned. That earned him a playful shove.

“…and I’m keen to make you completely blameless in all this,” she continued, ignoring his remark.

“That would be appreciated.”

“So, I’m thinking, what if you planned to deliver as usual – at your discretion – and the ‘Trickster’ stole something from you…something that would make it absolutely impossible for you to complete your deliveries?”

When Cat outlined the rest of her idea, Jacob told her, “That has got to be the most ridiculous radical plan I’ve ever heard in my life.” He grinned. “Sounds great, let’s do it!”

“Ridiculous radical plan,” Cat echoed. “I like that!”

It had a good ring

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