Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

  A large gun appeared in the Sarjeant’s right hand, pointed unwaveringly at John. “Not from nowhere. From the Drood Armoury. Where we keep the most powerful weapons known to Man.”

  “Nice gun,” said John.

  “Don’t try to take the bullets out of it,” said the Sarjeant. “It doesn’t use bullets.”

  “You’d better have this,” said John.

  He handed the Sarjeant-at-Arms the trigger for his gun. The Sarjeant looked at it, then at his gun. He sighed quietly, accepted the trigger from John, and made both it and the gun disappear. They walked on together in silence. When they finally reached the front door, the Sarjeant turned to address the accompanying armoured Droods.

  “I can take it from here. You spread out across the grounds. Watch for other intrusions. If Walker can get past all our defences and protections, others may be able to as well.”

  “What are our orders of engagement?” said the nearest Drood.

  “Anyone appears in our grounds, I want them taken down. Alive, if possible. I am prepared to accept damaged.”

  The Droods moved quickly away. John watched them go, then looked at the Sarjeant.

  “You’re mellowing, Cedric.”

  “Don’t you believe it, John. Shall we go in?”

  They went inside, and the front door closed firmly behind them.

  John Taylor looked interestedly around the Hall as they walked through it. Openly fascinated, though careful not to appear in any way impressed. The weird and the unusual came as standard in the Nightside, but he wasn’t used to this scale of luxury. He chatted easily with the Sarjeant as they walked. Away from the others, the two men were able to relax a little.

  “Nice place you have here,” said John.

  “We think so,” said the Sarjeant. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

  “Pretty much. I have seen bigger and better, mostly on the Street of the Gods, but you’ve got style. They mostly go for gaudy.”

  “Why are you here, John? Really?”

  “Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice an armoured Drood operating inside the Nightside?”

  “He’s hardly the first Drood to enter the long night,” said the Sarjeant. “You and I have spent many an evening drinking together in Strangefellows. Usually with the old Armourer.”

  “I miss Jack,” said John.

  “We all do,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Let’s be real about this,” said John. “Everyone knows Droods occasionally come to the Nightside to let their hair down, just like everyone else, and as long as they do it incognito, no one gives a damn. Everyone’s welcome in the long night, that’s the point. But this was different. This was a Drood throwing his weight around, in his armour, in public.”

  “Blaiston Street is public?” said the Sarjeant. “That shit-hole?”

  “When Eddie put on his armour, it was like a beacon in the dark,” said John. “Everyone noticed. What was the Matriarch thinking?”

  “You’ve heard about what happened to the Wulfshead Club,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Of course,” said John. “Have you heard about what happened on the Street of the Gods?”

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms looked at him. “No.”

  John brought him up to date. The Sarjeant’s scowl deepened.

  “I don’t like the implications of that,” he said finally.

  “The gods were convinced something really bad is coming,” said John. “Bad enough to frighten even them.”

  “Are they really gods?” said the Sarjeant.

  “Real enough to kick an atheist’s arse,” said John. “Are you sure you haven’t heard of any possible threat or danger heading our way?”

  “No,” said the Sarjeant. “Nothing. And we should have; that’s part of our job. To anticipate trouble, so we can step in and put a stop to it before it gets out of hand. Everything seemed quiet . . . till the Nightside broke its boundaries. You had no warning of that?”

  “No,” said John. “First I knew was when the Authorities called me in to give me the bad news. I’ve never seen them in such a state.”

  “They were shocked?” said the Sarjeant.

  “They were scared,” said John. “Nothing is supposed to happen in the Nightside, or to the Nightside, that they don’t know about.”

  “But such things do happen,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Well, yes,” said John. “But not like this!”

  “Can the Authorities pull the Nightside back inside its old boundaries?” asked the Sarjeant.

  “No one I’ve talked to has any idea of how that could be done,” said John. “Because no one has a clue as to what caused it.”

  “Or who,” said the Sarjeant.

  “There is always that, yes,” said John.

  “Just when you think the day can’t get any worse,” said the Sarjeant.

  “It’s not the day you have to worry about,” said John. “It’s the night.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms took John Taylor to the Sanctity. All the way through the Hall, hurrying Droods stopped dead in their tracks to stare openly at John. The Sarjeant wouldn’t allow him to stop and talk with anyone, so John smiled and waved in all directions, like visiting royalty who just happened to be passing through. The Sarjeant glared at the Droods until they started moving again. Meanwhile, John was quietly memorising as much of the Hall’s lay-out as he could, without being obvious about it. He’d probably never get such a chance again, and information like this could prove valuable.

  When they finally reached the long corridor that led to the Sanctity, John took in the two armoured Droods standing guard at the closed doors and smiled easily at the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

  “Bet you I can steal their torcs without them even noticing.”

  “Please don’t,” said the Sarjeant.

  The guards opened the double doors long before John and the Sarjeant arrived, and stood well back to let them enter. And then closed the doors very firmly behind them.

  John didn’t even glance back. He was too busy looking around the secret heart of Drood Hall, which as far as he knew no outsider had ever seen before. It occurred to him that he was standing right in the middle of Drood Hall, surrounded by an armoured army who probably wouldn’t be that keen on letting him leave. Not after all the things he’d seen. John decided he wasn’t going to think about that and looked calmly at the Matriarch. She was sitting behind a simple table, ignoring the various communication devices arrayed before her. There was no one else in the Sanctity. The Matriarch nodded coolly to John, and he nodded easily in return.

  “Hello, Maggie. I bring salutations from the Nightside. I would have brought you a gift, but everyone knows the Droods already have everything worth having.”

  “You can wait outside, Sarjeant,” said the Matriarch, not taking her eyes off John.

  “Are you sure?” said the Sarjeant. “It’s not proper procedure for a Matriarch to be left alone with a dangerous enemy.”

  She gave him a hard look. “I am a Drood. I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “I’ll be right outside. If you need me.”

  He left the Sanctity, carefully closing the doors behind him. John looked thoughtfully at the Matriarch.

  “No Sarjeant-at-Arms, no advisory Council . . . just the two of us? How cosy. I am honoured.”

  “No witnesses,” said the Matriarch. “Just in case you and I come to terms no one else needs to know about.”

  “You mean, agreements the family wouldn’t approve of,” said John.

  “Exactly,” said the Matriarch. “And, of course, so that if I do find it necessary to do something extreme to you, no one else will ever know.”

  “Spoken like a true Drood,” said John.

&nbs
p; The Matriarch gestured for John to sit on the chair facing her. He dropped onto it and lounged bonelessly, almost defiantly at his ease. And then they both stared at each other for a while. Two powerful leaders who’d heard so much about each other but never thought they’d ever meet. John smiled suddenly.

  “I know; you thought I’d be taller.”

  “And you thought I’d be older,” said the Matriarch. “Were you really a private eye, originally?”

  “Yes,” said John. “Did you really start out as a gardener?”

  “Yes,” said the Matriarch. “How far we’ve come . . .”

  “We have a lot in common,” said John, sitting forward to show the straight-talking had started. “Both of us doing a job we never wanted because we weren’t given any choice in the matter. You look out for your people, and I look out for mine. Which means we’re both expected to make whatever decisions we find necessary, for the good of all. So let’s talk.”

  “Let’s,” said the Matriarch. “What the hell did you think you were doing, arriving in our grounds without any advance warning? That is not acceptable!”

  “A Drood entered the Nightside,” said John. “Not in any way incognito, and enforced his will through his armour. That is not acceptable, and you must have known it. Do I really need to remind you of the rules and obligations laid down by the Pacts and Agreements specifically designed to keep us from each other’s throats? The Droods stay out of the long night, and in return no one in the Nightside interferes in Drood business.”

  “Like you could,” said the Matriarch.

  “Oh, some of us could,” said John. “You’d be surprised. You have no idea what powers lie sleeping in the darkest parts of the long night.”

  “All the more reason to worry about what they might do if they ever got out,” said the Matriarch.

  “The strength of the long night is that whatever happens in the Nightside, stays in the Nightside,” John said easily. “Everyone is far too busy doing things to one another to give a damn about what happens in the outside world. Sin is a very tiring business. It takes a lot out of people. All we have ever asked is to be left alone, to concentrate on our own damnations and salvations.”

  “But that isn’t true any longer, is it?” said the Matriarch. “The long night has reached out and engulfed part of our world. The Wulfshead Club is gone, and all the people inside it are dead.”

  “I know,” said John. “Some of them were friends of mine.”

  “Something had to be done about that,” said the Matriarch.

  “But you chose to do the one thing you must have known would only make things worse,” said John.

  “It was supposed to be just an information-gathering mission,” the Matriarch said carefully. “Eddie was not authorised to take any action.”

  “But you sent Eddie!” said John. “The one field agent famous for never following orders!”

  “Are you saying he should have left that creature where it was, to eat more people?” said the Matriarch, her voice cold and implacable.

  “He should have left it to me,” said John. “The Nightside deals with its own problems.” He sat back in his chair and changed tack. “Discreet visits by Droods are one thing, but after what Eddie did, people were bound to notice. Voices are being raised all over the Nightside. Old powers are stirring, feeling threatened, things that should never have been disturbed. There’s already a lot of talk about retribution. Doing something dramatic to restore the Nightside’s honour by evening the score. Something bad enough to make sure no Drood ever dares intrude on the Nightside again.”

  “Are you threatening me, Walker?”

  “I’m going out of my way not to. For the moment, the Authorities are still on top of things. But only as long as you don’t do anything to escalate matters. I was sent here to lay down the law, the Pacts and Agreements that have maintained the balance between us for so long.”

  “Say what you have to say,” said the Matriarch. “I’m listening.”

  “No more Droods in the Nightside, for any reason,” John said flatly. “If any further problems should arise, contact the Authorities through the proper channels, and I will deal with them.”

  The Matriarch sat very still, staring at him. She didn’t say yes or no. John stared calmly back, hiding his racing thoughts behind an unreadable face. This wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would. He’d expected a clash of attitudes, of established power bases butting heads over territory, but nothing that couldn’t be sorted out with some hard words and harder bargaining. But the Matriarch didn’t seem interested in that.

  “What do the Authorities know, about the way the Nightside expanded itself?” the Matriarch said finally.

  “Nothing,” said John.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?”

  “Listen to me, Walker,” said the Matriarch. “The Droods only put up with the Nightside’s existence because it’s always been confined within London’s limits. Now that’s changed . . .”

  “The Authorities don’t know any more about what’s happening than you do,” said John. He was careful to keep his voice calm, even though he felt like shouting. Why wasn’t she listening to him? “We already have people investigating the situation. I will find out what’s going on. That’s what I do. But this, all of this, is Nightside business. Not yours.”

  “It was,” said the Matriarch. “But now, things have changed. Everything has changed. Understand me, Walker; we are the Droods. We protect this world by destroying anything that poses a threat to Humanity.”

  “We are the Nightside,” said John. “And we don’t care.”

  “Don’t care was made to care.”

  “Not on the best day you ever had.”

  He rose to his feet. The Matriarch rose quickly to hers. She started to summon her armour, and John fixed her with a look.

  “Don’t. Really.”

  The Matriarch hesitated. Because he might be bluffing, or he might not. Even the Droods couldn’t be sure when it came to John Taylor.

  He didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Without quite understanding why, it was obvious the talks had broken down. He activated the pocket-watch he’d sneaked into his hand, and the portable Timeslip took him away. The doors to the Sanctity slammed open, and the Sarjeant-at-Arms came storming in, an energy gun in each hand. He saw that John was gone and stopped. The Matriarch glared at him.

  “You’re too late!”

  The Sarjeant dismissed his guns. “Ethel said the talks were deteriorating. What happened?”

  “He wouldn’t listen to me,” said the Matriarch. “I tried to warn him . . .” She raised her voice. “Ethel! How was Walker able to leave like that, despite all the Sanctity’s protections? You assured me that was impossible. That’s why I met him here!”

  “Beats me,” said Ethel. “It’s all very odd. But he is John Taylor, after all. A man of many mysteries.”

  “And a real pain in the arse,” said the Sarjeant. “Matriarch, I need to know: Why weren’t you able to reach an agreement?”

  The Matriarch sat down behind her table again and composed herself. “Because neither of us could afford to give an inch. Have Eddie and Molly returned from the Nightside yet?”

  “They just appeared in the grounds,” said the Sarjeant. “Eddie ripped a robot gun out of the ground and crushed it into a ball because it dared to check him out. And Molly blew up a tree because she didn’t like the way it was looking at her. I think we can safely assume they are not in the best of moods.”

  “How was John Taylor able to hear about Eddie’s destroying the house, confer with the Authorities, and get here . . . before Eddie and Molly could return?” said the Matriarch.

  The Sarjeant shrugged. “It’s the Nightside. They do things differently there.”

  “
Send Eddie and Molly in to see me,” said the Matriarch. “And tell the Council to attend as well. We have important matters to discuss. And Sarjeant, start putting things in order.”

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms looked at her for a long moment, as though giving her time to withdraw her order. When she didn’t, he nodded slowly. “Has it really come to that?”

  “Not yet,” said the Matriarch. “But we are one step closer.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  What Do You Do When No One Knows Anything?

  Eddie and Molly walked back through the Drood grounds. Behind them a tree burned quietly, as though not wanting to draw attention to itself. The grounds stretched away in every direction, very still and very quiet. After a while, Molly shot Eddie a sideways look.

  “Why are you in such a bad mood, Eddie?”

  “I’m not in a bad mood,” he said, staring straight ahead. “You’re the one who just incinerated a perfectly innocent tree.”

  “I’m used to acting out,” said Molly. “You’re the one who keeps it all bottled up inside. So you’ll pardon me if I was just a little surprised to see you compress an entire robot gun into something the size of a Christmas-tree ornament, then call it a bastard. That has to mean something. So, what’s wrong?”

  “We screwed up the mission,” said Eddie. He still wasn’t looking at her.

  “How can you say that?” said Molly. She had to increase her pace to keep up with Eddie as he strode along, almost as though he was trying to leave her and her questions behind. “We found the Wulfshead Club, and the poor bastards trapped inside, and we destroyed the thing that killed them. Which is a lot more than we were sent there to do.”

  “But that’s the point!” said Eddie. “We did too much and got ourselves noticed. I got us noticed. A Drood operating in his armour stands out in the long night like a leper in a whore-house. There will be repercussions.”

  “You mean the Authorities?” Molly shrugged. “They’ll get over it. The Nightside is used to people breaking the rules. I often think the only reason the long night has any rules is so people can have fun ignoring them.”