Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

  “More importantly,” said Eddie, as though he hadn’t heard a word she’d said, and quite possibly he hadn’t, “we didn’t do what we were supposed to do. We didn’t discover why the Nightside was able to break its boundaries. Let alone who might be behind it.”

  “We were busy,” said Molly. “We had to deal with what was in front of us . . . Look, Eddie, it’s up to you; either you stop walking faster and faster till I have to run to keep up with you, or I will trip you up and sit on you till you calm down.”

  Eddie slowed down because he knew she wasn’t joking. He still didn’t look at her. “Once I’d used my armour against the house, we had to leave the Nightside. The mission was compromised.”

  “That wasn’t your fault!” said Molly.

  “I never said it was.”

  “Then why are you brooding? If you frown any harder, your eyebrows will join up.”

  Eddie sighed heavily. “Because we’ve only just started this case, and already everything is slipping out of our control.”

  “We’ll get it back,” said Molly. “We always do.”

  Eddie finally looked at her. “As you already pointed out, in the Nightside, the rule that Droods always win doesn’t apply.”

  “Then we’ll make it apply,” said Molly.

  They walked for a while in silence. Molly kept a careful eye on Eddie. He seemed strangely tired and worn-down. It wasn’t like him to take a set-back so hard.

  “You need a nice lie-down in a darkened room,” she announced. “With some soft music, a damp cloth on your forehead, and my hand down the front of your trousers.”

  Eddie laughed briefly, but she could hear the effort in it. “You really think we’re going to be allowed to take a rest?”

  Molly snorted loudly. She felt one of them should sound convincing. “Like to see anyone stop us. Anybody gives me a hard time, I’ll just point them in the direction of the burning tree.”

  “It’s probably gone out by now,” said Eddie.

  “Then I’ll set it alight again!”

  Molly broke off and looked around sharply as she caught a movement on the edge of her vision. She slapped Eddie on the arm.

  “What are armoured Droods doing, out in the grounds?” she said. “And look, there are more of them.”

  “Droods in full armour?” said Eddie. He stopped to get a better look, and Molly stopped with him. “I wouldn’t normally expect to see something like that for anything less than an imminent invasion.”

  “Could be manoeuvres . . .” said Molly.

  “Nothing’s scheduled,” said Eddie. “Something must have happened while we were away.”

  “Get that guilty tone out of your voice right now,” Molly said firmly. “Not everything is about you.”

  “That’s not how it feels,” said Eddie.

  * * *

  • • •

  They strode through the front door into the entrance-hall, and once again the Sarjeant-at-Arms was there waiting for them. He looked as coldly impassive as ever, but Eddie saw something in the man’s stance that he didn’t like. The Sarjeant looked worried. And given that the Sarjeant never worried, about anything . . . Eddie gave the Sarjeant-at-Arms his best hard look.

  “All right. What happened?”

  “The Matriarch wants you in the Sanctity,” said the Sarjeant. “Immediately. Come with me.”

  Molly placed herself bodily between Eddie and the Sarjeant, stuck her fists on her hips, and glared right into his face.

  “No. Eddie is tired, and you can’t have him. He’s worn himself out on family business, been very nearly eaten by a house, and he isn’t going anywhere except to his room for a long lie-down. Feel free to argue with me, and I will feel free to fill your underwear with mutant rabid scorpions.”

  The Sarjeant didn’t flinch. Eddie had to admire the man’s poise, since they all knew she meant every word she said.

  “It’s all right, Molly,” said Eddie. “I can rest later.”

  “No, it isn’t all right!” Molly said fiercely. She turned to face him, and Eddie was shocked to see tears in her eyes. They might just have been tears of anger and frustration, but he didn’t think so. Molly spoke directly to him, ignoring the Sarjeant, her words tumbling over each other in their hurry to get out. “How many times have your family nearly killed you in the past, working you to the bone and sending you straight back into danger when you were clearly exhausted? They ask too much of you, Eddie, and you always do it. I nearly lost you to Dr DOA and his poison! I won’t lose you to your family! Whatever this is, it can wait.”

  “I’m sorry, Molly,” said the Sarjeant, astonishing Eddie again, because the Sarjeant-at-Arms wasn’t a man given to apologies. “This really can’t wait. While you were gone, we had a visit from John Taylor. He insisted on speaking to the Matriarch.”

  Eddie and Molly looked at each other, then back at the Sarjeant.

  “Walker was here?” said Eddie. “Inside the Hall?”

  “Why?” said Molly.

  “To complain about your actions,” said the Sarjeant. “He spent some time talking privately with the Matriarch, negotiating over future Drood involvement with the Nightside. I’m told it did not go well.”

  Eddie sighed heavily. “Take me to the Matriarch.” He turned to Molly. “I have to do this.”

  “Not on your own you don’t,” said Molly, glowering dangerously at the Sarjeant. “I’m going with you. No one gets to push you around except me.”

  “Your presence has also been requested,” said the Sarjeant. “The Matriarch believes we’re going to need your help.”

  Eddie looked to Molly. “Did we take a side turn on our way back and end up in some other reality?”

  The Sarjeant led Eddie and Molly through the Hall to the Sanctity. The previous busy clamour, of Droods rushing back and forth on urgent missions, had descended into loud and fractious chaos. Everyone was standing around in small groups, talking animatedly about John Taylor’s visit. Droods weren’t used to dealing with outside interference in their own home. There was much in the way of raised voices, and even more waving of arms, as they argued over what it all meant. Some seemed shocked, some angry, and a few looked actually scared.

  Having Walker show up in person was like having one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding up to your door to ask for directions.

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms did his best to follow his orders and get Eddie and Molly to the Sanctity as quickly as possible, but in the end he just couldn’t stand it any longer. He slammed to a halt and raised his voice, demanding everyone’s attention. That broke across even the loudest conversations, stopping them all dead. Because when the Sarjeant raised his voice, everyone listened. He was responsible for internal discipline in the family, and everyone knew he wasn’t afraid to get his hands bloody doing it.

  “You all have duties and responsibilities,” the Sarjeant said coldly. “Get back to work. We are Droods; we don’t do impressed. Go!”

  The groups broke up as everyone ran for their lives. They didn’t look any happier, or even particularly reassured, but they had been reminded of the importance of their tasks. And the even greater importance of not upsetting the Sarjeant-at-Arms. He waited a moment, to be sure everyone was moving, then set off for the Sanctity again. Eddie and Molly followed on behind. Eddie was frowning. He wasn’t used to seeing Drood discipline break down so completely. But that was the Nightside for you. Everything about the long night undermined the way things were supposed to be.

  And then the three of them stopped again, as a messenger from the Armoury appeared out of nowhere to plant himself right in front of the Sarjeant and block his way. For a moment Eddie thought the Sarjeant would just keep going and walk right over the man. The messenger was clearly one of the Armourer’s lab assistants, in the usual burned and stained lab coat, with a long tear down one sleeve where so
mething had got really annoyed with him. Tall and dark-skinned, his name turned out to be Romesh. Like all lab assistants, he was young, eager, cocky, and completely lacking in any self-preservation instincts. Or he wouldn’t have got in the Sarjeant’s way. Romesh smiled vaguely at the Sarjeant-at-Arms, then fixed his gaze on Eddie.

  “The Armourer’s compliments, and can they please have their psychic crown back.”

  “What, now?” said Eddie. “I’m on my way to see the Matriarch. I’ll drop it off at the Armoury later.”

  Romesh shook his head quickly. “Maxwell and Victoria were most emphatic. They said they needed to examine the crown the moment you returned, to see what exposure to the long night had done to it.”

  There was never any point in arguing with a lab assistant; it genuinely never occurred to them that anything outside the Armoury mattered. Eddie reached up, found the crown on his head by touch, and took it off. The silver circlet appeared in his hands, and Eddie was surprised to discover several of the embedded crystals were seriously scorched and blackened.

  “You see?” said Romesh, all but snatching the crown out of Eddie’s hands. “Someone in the Nightside was doing their best to shut the crown down from the moment you arrived.”

  “How did anyone know to look for it?” said Molly, but Romesh was already hurrying off with his prize.

  “That’s a good question,” said Eddie. “Any ideas, Cedric?”

  “No,” said the Sarjeant.

  He set off for the Sanctity again, not even glancing back to check that Eddie and Molly were following him. Because it never occurred to him that they wouldn’t be.

  “Do you know why the Matriarch wants to see me?” Eddie asked after a while. “It can’t be just to make my report; I already told her the basics the moment we were back in the grounds.”

  “The Matriarch has need of you,” said the Sarjeant, staring straight ahead.

  “What does she want me to do now?” said Eddie. “Given that my last mission went so well.”

  “You’ll have to hear that from her,” said the Sarjeant.

  “She’d better not shout at Eddie,” Molly said darkly. “Or I will rip out her vocal cords and tie them in knots.”

  “This isn’t about what just happened in the Nightside,” said the Sarjeant. “Not everything is about you. The Matriarch has an important decision to make, and she values your opinion. Both of you.”

  Eddie and Molly looked at each other.

  “Well,” said Molly, “that’s a first. Things must really be bad.”

  “They are,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Are we back to what you were talking about earlier?” Eddie said carefully. “The decision you weren’t sure she should make?”

  “You had your chance to stop her,” said the Sarjeant. “That time is past. She has already made the decision, for good or ill. All that remains now is how best to carry it out.”

  “What are you two talking about?” said Molly.

  “War,” said Eddie. “The Matriarch is going to declare war on the Nightside.”

  “What?” Molly glared at both of them. “Why the hell would she want to do that?”

  “To stop the long night before it overruns us all,” said the Sarjeant.

  “But that’s not going to happen!” said Molly. “We’ll find a way to stop it.”

  “This is one way to stop it,” said the Sarjeant. “And to make sure it can never happen again.”

  “This is crazy!” said Molly. “Tell him, Eddie!”

  “Does the Matriarch have a plan?” Eddie asked the Sarjeant.

  “The Matriarch always has a plan,” said the Sarjeant.

  “You say that like it’s a good thing,” said Molly.

  “The family needs more information on exactly what is going on in the Nightside,” said the Sarjeant. “We also need to know what the world’s other secret organisations know about that. I think she plans to contact them and demand some answers.”

  “Oh, that can only go well,” said Eddie.

  “Eddie . . .” said Molly. “War? Really?”

  “It’s what the family is for,” said the Sarjeant. “When all else fails.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The three of them strode back into the Sanctity, and it was as though they’d never been away. The full Council was there again, attending the Matriarch. William the Librarian and his wife, the telepath Ammonia Vom Acht, sitting side by side and holding hands. Though given the deeply worried looks on their faces, Eddie had to wonder which of them was supporting the other. The Librarian looked rather more ruffled and out of sorts than the last time, no doubt the result of being dragged back from the Library without enough time to prepare his public face. Ammonia looked ready to bite someone’s head off, but then, she usually did. The fact that she was holding her peace for the moment was a good sign; it showed she was making an effort, for her husband’s sake. Ammonia could get very protective when she thought her husband’s mental stability was being threatened. Particularly by his own family.

  The Armourer Maxwell and Victoria were also sitting together, holding hands so tightly their knuckles had gone white. Eddie’s first thought was to wonder who was looking at his psychic crown if they were here, then he frowned as he took in the fresh chemical stains and burns on the front of Maxwell’s lab coat, and the way someone else’s blood was dripping off Victoria’s sleeve. Neither event was particularly unusual where the Armoury was concerned, but Eddie was surprised to see such obvious evidence of Maxwell and Victoria being hands-on. They usually had enough sense to delegate the rough stuff.

  All four members of the advisory Council avoided Eddie’s and Molly’s eyes as they sat down facing the Matriarch again. Eddie sat stiffly, arms folded, studying the Matriarch thoughtfully. Molly sat down hard and glared at everyone. The Sarjeant-at-Arms took up his usual position, standing at the Matriarch’s shoulder. Ready to do whatever was required of him.

  Eddie looked at the empty table-top in front of the Matriarch and raised an eyebrow.

  “What happened to all the comm gear, Maggie?”

  “I didn’t want to be disturbed during these discussions,” said the Matriarch.

  Her voice was calm and composed, her gaze cold and focused. And from the way she carefully didn’t rise to Eddie’s bait of using her name, he thought he’d better stick his oar in first, before she started ordering him to do things he just knew he wasn’t going to approve of.

  “I know you said not to use my armour in the Nightside, but I didn’t have any choice.”

  “I don’t care about that,” said the Matriarch.

  “You don’t?” said Eddie.

  “I approve and validate all your actions in the long night,” said the Matriarch, almost in passing. “Other, and far more important, matters concern us now.”

  “Are we talking about John Taylor’s visit?” said Eddie. “I can’t believe he actually came all the way here just to complain about me.”

  “And me!” said Molly, determined not to be left out of anything.

  “That was just one of the things we talked about,” said the Matriarch. “We were more concerned with the on-going relationship between the Droods and the Nightside. And which of us has responsibility for enforcing the long night’s boundaries. Unfortunately, a compromise turned out not to be possible. Walker has ordered the family to stay out of the Nightside, under any circumstances, on threat of dire penalties.”

  “He threatened the family,” said the Sarjeant.

  “He wouldn’t do that!” said Molly.

  “Wouldn’t he?” said Eddie.

  Molly stopped to think about it, then scowled reluctantly. “Well . . . he might. If he was ordered to by the Authorities. He’s not the free agent I used to know, ready to defy anyone to look after people who couldn’t protect themselves. He’s Wa
lker now, and that comes with duties and responsibilities as well as power. I told him not to take the job.”

  “A Walker, inside Drood Hall,” said the Sarjeant. “Such a thing has never happened before, in all the family’s history.”

  Eddie didn’t say anything, but he remembered meeting the previous Walker in the Winter Hall, that strange version of his home he’d briefly been trapped in, during his time in Limbo. That Walker was supposed to have been the elf Puck, under a glamour, but it had never been confirmed. Eddie decided not to raise the point. The situation was complicated enough as it was.

  “Eddie!” the Matriarch said sharply. “Are you still with us?”

  “Just considering the implications,” Eddie said smoothly.

  “You worked with Walker during the Great Spy Game, to take down the Independent Agent . . .”

  Eddie was shaking his head before she’d finished. “That was the previous Walker. He’s been dead for some time now. I barely know John Taylor.”

  Molly looked at him. “You once told me you worked with him on a few cases, back in the day.”

  “That was when he was just a private eye,” said Eddie. “And not in the Nightside. You know the man better than I do.”

  Everyone looked to Molly, and she shrugged uncomfortably. “I know John . . . but we were never close. We just had a lot of enemies in common.”

  “Did you work with him?” said the Sarjeant.

  “Sometimes,” said Molly. “Other times, we were on opposite sides. This was back before I got involved with Eddie and calmed down a lot.” She glared around the room, daring anyone to comment. No one said anything, and she continued, “John’s a good man, in his own way. All right, his mother was a Biblical Myth, and he has been known to work both sides of the street to get the job done, and he is married to a psychopathic bounty-hunter . . . but he’s an honourable man. Mostly. He’s done a lot to protect the whole of Humanity, not just the Nightside.”

  “Really?” said the Matriarch. “My understanding was that he spent most of his life as a down-at-heel private eye, taking charity cases from the previous Walker.”