“Then you heard wrong,” said Molly.
“John Taylor was never just a private investigator,” said the Sarjeant. “He had a destiny. Everyone in the Nightside knew that even if they didn’t know what. There were some rumours that he would bring about the end of everything. How do you think he acquired such a worrying reputation?”
The Matriarch fixed him with a cold glare. “You never told me any of this before.”
“It wasn’t relevant before,” said the Sarjeant.
“Amazing what you can pick up, drinking in Strangefellows,” murmured Eddie.
The Matriarch looked at the Sarjeant, to see if he had anything more to say, and when he didn’t, she made an impatient noise.
“We will talk more about this later, Sarjeant.”
“Of course,” said the Sarjeant. He turned his full attention on Molly. “Is there anything else you can tell us about John Taylor?”
“You really don’t want to cross him,” said Molly. “He’s like the Droods. He always wins.”
“We need to talk about the Wulfshead,” said the Matriarch. “I’m still not clear as to why the Club was targeted during the Nightside’s expansion. Given that it was known to be a haven for some very significant people, whoever is behind the expansion must have known attacking the Club would attract attention. Was there perhaps someone in the Club who might have known something?”
“We found a lot of dead people inside the Wulfshead,” said Eddie. “But the bodies were hard to identify. The house had been feeding on them . . .” He paused as he remembered, then made himself continue. He was a field agent. He’d seen worse. “We did find Monkton Farley, the consulting detective. Or what was left of him. Maybe he discovered something, on one of his cases.”
“He never reached out to us, through any of his usual contacts,” said the Matriarch.
Eddie looked at her. “I didn’t know he had any contacts with the family.”
“Monkton Farley was one of our secret informants,” said the Sarjeant. “Keeping us up to date on what was happening in the murkier quarters of the hidden world. His way of doing service, to earn himself a place in the family.”
“Of course; he was one of James’ sons,” said William. “One of the Grey Bastards.”
“He was family,” said the Matriarch. “That makes this personal. He will be avenged.”
“Have you heard anything from the Management yet?” Molly said pointedly. “The Wulfshead was their Club.”
“Not a word,” said the Sarjeant. “Their continued silence is worrying. We have to consider the possibility that whoever is behind all of this may have targeted the Management and silenced them, before the Club was attacked.”
“Why would they do that?” said Eddie.
“Perhaps the Management knew something,” said the Sarjeant, “that we couldn’t be allowed to find out.”
“There’s no doubt everything that’s happened was carefully planned,” said the Matriarch. “All we’ve been doing is reacting to things as they happen. That has to stop. We need to take the advantage, regain control of events.”
“But we can’t be sure which actions would be most useful till we have a better idea of what’s really going on in the Nightside,” said the Sarjeant.
“That’s why we need you, Eddie,” said the Matriarch. “And you, Molly. To go back into the Nightside, under-cover, and find out as much as you can.”
Eddie and Molly looked at each other, then around the room. Everyone else looked steadily back at them. Eddie stared steadily at the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“You really think this is a good idea? Going back in, after Walker told us to stay out?”
“They won’t be expecting that,” said the Sarjeant.
“Sneaking in for a quick look around is one thing,” said Eddie. “Operating as a Drood agent would mean breaking the Pacts and Agreements. Do we really want to do that, after all these years?”
“The Pacts may have served a purpose once,” said the Matriarch, “but I’m not sure that’s true any longer. Walker is only concerned with the security of the Nightside; I have a larger responsibility.”
“It’s still a hell of a risk,” said Eddie. “Do we have the right to break the ancient Agreements?”
“We exist to defend Humanity,” said the Sarjeant. “All of it, not just the rights and privileges of one small group. Yes, it is a risk. But, Anything, for the family.”
There was a long pause as everyone thought about that.
“Who set up these Pacts and Agreements, originally?” Molly asked.
“It was a very long time ago,” said the Matriarch. “Back at the founding of the family, in the time of the Druids. No records survive from that time.”
“Actually . . .” said William, clearing his throat carefully, “that may not be entirely accurate, Matriarch.”
The whole room was staring at him now. The Matriarch fixed the Librarian with a stern commanding gaze.
“I was told there were no such records.”
“That was always my understanding too,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms, adding his cold stare. “I should have been informed, for security reasons.”
“What would you have done?” said William. “Put an armed guard on them? You know as well as I do, Cedric, most of the really old books in the Old Library are perfectly capable of looking after themselves. These particular records were lost to the family for centuries, till Eddie found the Old Library and returned it to us. The book in question is so ancient its words are etched on bronze sheets, in an odd mixture of Latin, Greek, and eccentric Coptic.”
“All dead languages,” said the Sarjeant.
“Well, quite,” said William. “It’s our original copy of the Pacts and Agreements, setting out all the details and obligations on both sides. I found it quite by accident while looking for something else. Isn’t that always the way? The book was locked inside a chest wrapped in glowing chains and protected by a quite spectacularly nasty curse.”
“A chest you just happened to open?” said Molly.
William grinned suddenly. “No one keeps secrets from me in my Library. I never said anything about the book before because its existence was supposed to remain secret.”
“You should have told someone!” said the Sarjeant. “What if something had happened to you?”
“I did tell someone,” said William. “I told my old assistant, Raphael. Not what was in the book, just where it was. Of course he turned out to be an Immortal spy . . . So after he was killed, I told my new assistant, Ioreth. And Ammonia, of course, after we were married. Because a man shouldn’t try to keep secrets from his wife. Especially if she’s a telepath. Am I wandering? It feels like I’m wandering . . .”
“You’re doing very well, dear,” said Ammonia. And then she glowered around the room, daring anyone to contradict her.
“But why did this book have to be kept so secret?” said Eddie. “Something so important to the whole family?”
“Because the personage who first dictated the Pacts and Agreements wanted it that way,” said William.
“Who?” Molly said loudly. “Who are we talking about, so important and powerful in their own right, that they could lay down the law to the Droods and the Nightside?”
“Gaea, of course,” said William. “Mother Earth. The living embodiment of the entire world just appeared in the Old Library one day, not long after I discovered the book. I almost had a coronary. Though she turned out to be very nice. Quite charming and delightful, in fact . . .” He realised Ammonia was looking at him coldly, and hurried on. “Gaea told me she put the original deal together to keep the Droods and the Nightside apart. The Droods hadn’t been around long at that point, but they had already made it clear they were determined to impose order and security on the hidden world. Gaea said it was important that the Nightside should exist and remain se
parate. And that she didn’t so much arrange a deal as bang heads together on both sides till everyone agreed to play nicely.”
“Do we know who agreed to this deal?” said Molly. “Which people, in the Droods and the Nightside?”
“No names are recorded anywhere,” said William. “I’m guessing no one wanted to take the blame.” He paused, then smiled apologetically. “Gaea spent some time talking with me, about a great many things . . . but I really don’t remember most of them. I wasn’t at my best, back then. Not long out of the asylum, still getting used to being around sane people . . . It had been a long time since I was part of the family . . .”
He stopped, pressing his lips together to keep his mouth from quivering. Ammonia took hold of both his hands and held them firmly.
“You’d been through a lot,” said Eddie. “You hardly talked to anyone, back then.”
“I always got on better with books, than people,” said William. He smiled at Ammonia. “Till I met you, of course. So, I don’t remember most of what Gaea had to say. Which is a pity because I’m sure it was all very interesting and probably important. But I do remember her being very firm, that the Nightside had a purpose as well as a function. She also told me to keep the book’s existence a secret, so I did.” He sighed briefly. “I suppose it’s time to get the book out again and work on a translation. So we can all be sure exactly what it says.”
“Gaea doesn’t do personal appearances any more,” Molly said thoughtfully. “She retired from her office and lives a simple human life far away from everyone. No one bothers her. I mean, would you?”
Eddie remembered talking to Gaea not that long ago, inside the Castle Inconnu of the London Knights. She was their oracle, the Lady of the Lake. Along with her visit to William, that suggested Gaea still took some interest in worldly matters. Eddie decided not to say anything about that, for the moment.
“What matters now is that Gaea must have given up much of her power when she gave up her office,” said the Matriarch. “So she’s no longer in a position to object to anything we decide to do.”
“And what have you decided to do?” said Eddie.
“I’m still working on it,” the Matriarch said steadily. “I need to be sure the family is ready and prepared to do whatever may prove necessary. The long night cannot be allowed to continue to expand, till it covers the entire world; and we can’t allow anything or anyone to stop us doing whatever is necessary to prevent that. The Pacts and Agreements were set in place to enforce a status quo that no longer exists.”
It won’t, if we go to war, thought Eddie, but he didn’t say it.
The Matriarch turned to the Armourer. “Maxwell, Victoria, I need you and your people working full out to equip every member of this family with all the weapons and devices you have.”
Maxwell and Victoria looked at each other. Eddie knew that look. It was the Who’s going to tell her she can’t have what she wants look. In the end, Maxwell bit the bullet.
“Mass production is not something we do, Matriarch. Like all the Armourers before us, we mostly produce prototypes.”
“Which we then give to field agents, to test under practical conditions,” said Vicky.
“Till they break or stop working.”
“Which is, unfortunately, often the case.”
“We’re always working to improve things,” said Max, defensively.
“Of course we are,” said Vicky. “You tell her, dear.”
“I am telling her, dear. You must understand, Matriarch, a lot of good ideas turn out to be merely good ideas.”
“Suddenly, much becomes clear,” said Eddie. “I always wondered why I had to return all my weapons and gadgets to the Armoury every time I returned from a mission. Why I had to write all those long reports on how everything worked in the field. And why I kept being given new toys for every new mission.”
“Like all secret organisations, we are part of an arms race,” said Max.
“With our enemies and with each other,” said Vicky.
“We always have to be seen to be at the very top of our game,” said Max.
“We have to be cutting edge, to maintain our profile,” said Vicky.
“The rest of the time, we put all our effort into maintaining and upgrading the things that do work,” said Max.
“Like the computers, the scanners, the defences and protections,” said Vicky.
“So everything I was ever given . . . was never really reliable?” said Eddie.
“You had your armour,” said Max.
“That’s all a Drood ever really needs,” said Vicky.
The Matriarch looked speechlessly at the Armourer, then turned to glare at the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
“Did you know about this?”
“Of course,” said the Sarjeant. “The Armourer reports directly to me, as head of security.”
“Why was I never told?” said the Matriarch.
“Most Matriarchs work it out for themselves,” said the Sarjeant. “And then keep it to themselves, for the good of the family. Which is what I assumed you were doing.”
“You can rely on us to ensure everything that comes out of the Armoury is the very latest thing,” said Max.
“And that no one else will have anything quite like it,” said Vicky.
“Keeping the enemy off balance and on their toes is part of the job,” said Max.
“And we’re very good at that,” said Vicky.
“Everything we produce works, for a while.”
“And when they stop working, there’s always something new and different waiting to replace it.”
“Have you ever come up with anything that worked and kept working?” said Eddie.
“Of course!” said Max. “Some things become standard items, like the Colt Repeater.”
“Or the medical-repair blobs, or the portable doors,” said Vicky.
“And some Armourers produce genuine wild cards,” said Max. “Like Jack’s racing Bentley that can go sideways through Space and Time, or the dimensional engine Alpha Red Alpha.”
“Things we’re still trying to understand and replicate, years later,” said Vicky.
“So the Armoury doesn’t really have an armoury of weapons?” said Molly.
“It’s all the Matriarchs’ fault!” Max said loudly. “Always demanding new and better toys!”
“There’s never enough time to spend working on any one idea, for all the years of careful development it would take to perfect it,” said Vicky.
“We don’t have years!” said the Matriarch.
“We know!” said Max.
“That’s why we keep producing prototypes,” said Vicky.
“You can have everything we’ve got,” said Max.
“Because we never throw anything away,” said Vicky.
“And they’ll work, for as long as they work.”
“But you’re still better off relying on the armour.”
“Because the armour always works,” said Max.
“Hold it,” said Molly. “We need to talk about the world-sized elephant in the Sanctity. What if Gaea decides she’s not happy to see her personal Pacts and Agreements being broken? What if she decides to come out of retirement and stop you? By force, if necessary? You can’t fight Mother Nature.”
“She’s been away too long,” said the Sarjeant. “The better part of her has been asleep for millennia.”
“And if she does come back,” said the Matriarch, “we have the forbidden weapons of the Armageddon Codex.”
“You can’t use those!” said William, sitting bolt upright for the first time. “They’re only for when reality itself is under threat!”
“Isn’t it?” said the Matriarch. “What else would you call the rise of the long night?”
There was a long pause, as everyone thought about th
at. Molly elbowed Eddie sharply in the ribs and glared at him. He knew she wanted him to challenge the Matriarch over what she intended to do, like the Sarjeant wanted, but Eddie still wasn’t sure. The Matriarch was right, in that the Nightside couldn’t be allowed to extend its boundaries indefinitely. That had to be stopped. By going to war, if necessary. But the forbidden weapons? He once persuaded the old Armourer to open up the Armageddon Codex for him, and the terrible things he saw in there still haunted him.
The Sarjeant-at-Arms cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him.
“Gaea is not who or what she was,” he said carefully. “We only have to look at the state of the world today to see that.”
“You ready to bet the farm?” said Molly.
“Yes,” said the Matriarch. “Anything, for the family. For Humanity. Gaea may have been our Mother Earth once, but we’ve grown up since then.”
“Given the state of the world today, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing,” said Molly.
“The point is,” the Matriarch said heavily, “we will do whatever we have to, and use whatever weapons we have to, in order to put the world right again. To protect it from the threat of the long night. That is why the family Armourers created the forbidden weapons . . .”
She broke off as the Sarjeant cleared his throat again.
“Actually, Matriarch . . . Nothing in the Armageddon Codex was created by us. We . . . acquired the forbidden weapons down the centuries, picking them up here and there.”
“And where, exactly, did we acquire these weapons?” said Eddie. “Or should that be, who did we steal them from?”
“This seems to be a day for questions no one ever thought to ask before,” said the Matriarch. “Well, Sarjeant? Armourer? Librarian?”
There was a long pause.
“That information was suppressed long ago,” William said finally. “Of course, there are still a great many books in the Old Library still waiting to be catalogued, never mind read. It’s always possible the knowledge is there. Somewhere.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the Sarjeant. “They’re ours now.”
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