“Without your torc, you’ll be completely unprotected,” said the Armourer. “Nothing to stand between you and the dangers of the Casino. There’s a good chance I’m sending you to your death, Eddie, and the only excuse I have is that it’s necessary.”
“You don’t have to do this, Eddie,” said Molly. She placed a comforting hand on my arm. “Tell them to go to Hell. Tell them to get someone else for their suicide mission. I’ll stand by you. You know that. It doesn’t always have to be you!”
“Yes, it does,” I said. I hardly recognised my own voice. It sounded numb, shocked. “It does have to be me, because I have the best chance of succeeding and coming back alive. It wouldn’t be fair . . . to hand this off to someone else. Someone less prepared, with a worse chance. This is too important to let someone else screw it up because they were second choice. So it does have to be me. Go ahead, Ethel. Do it.”
“Eddie . . .” said Ethel.
“Do it!” I said. “Do it now, before I change my mind.”
The torc disappeared from around my neck. Just vanished, drawn back into whatever unnatural place Ethel found it. I felt it go, and it felt like being skinned. Like having a layer of my soul ripped off. Afterwards, Molly told me I screamed. I don’t remember. I think I made myself forget. I think I had to. The next thing I do remember, I was on the floor . . . on my knees, sobbing like a baby. Molly was on her knees beside me, holding me in her arms, rocking me back and forth and murmuring comforting words to me.
“You bitch!” I heard her scream at Ethel. “What have you done to him?”
“I’m sorry,” said Ethel. “But I couldn’t just take the torc away. Casino Security would still have been able to detect that it had been there. Strange matter leaves marks. I had to alter you right down to the genetic level, Eddie. So you’re not just a Drood without a torc; you never were a Drood. Never have been a Drood. You’re Shaman Bond, and you always have been.”
“Just what I always wanted,” I said, bitterly. “To have never been a Drood.”
“When the mission is over, you come back here and Ethel will reinstate your torc,” said the Armourer.
“Thanks,” I said. “Thanks for everything, Uncle Jack.”
I made myself stop shaking, with an effort of will. Molly let go and sat back. She brought out a handkerchief and wiped the cold sweat off my face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so angry. I started to get to my feet again, and Molly was quickly there to help me. She carried most of my weight, until I could carry it myself. I looked slowly about me. There were lab assistants everywhere, some of them recording my reactions, but none of them said anything. Molly glared about her, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t have the words. I felt cold, and empty. Violated. I’d never felt so naked and vulnerable before.
“It’s all right, Eddie,” said Molly. “You’ve still got me.”
“You’ve still got me,” I said. “I’m still here. Most of me, anyway.”
“I will make them pay for this,” said Molly. “Make them all pay. . . .”
“No,” I said. “Don’t. Please. Anything for the family, remember?”
“I know what I’ve done to you,” said Ethel. “Do you forgive me, Eddie?”
“Ask me later,” I said.
She disappeared, her red glow gone in a moment. And what little comfort her light had given me went with her. Still without saying anything, the lab assistants turned and left, taking their tech with them. I would have liked to put their silent departure down to tact, and understanding, but I doubted it. There just wasn’t any reason for them to stay any longer. So all that was left was Molly and me, and the Armourer. He sat down in his chair, looking older and more tired than ever. I sat down facing him, and Molly sat down beside me. She held my hand in both of hers, like she would never let me go. And for a while, we all just sat there and looked at each other.
“Was it really that bad, Eddie?” the Armourer said finally. “It looked bad.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Eddie. There just wasn’t any other way. You said it yourself. This mission matters.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “I know. Anything, for the family.”
He winced, and looked away from me.
“I hate your family, Eddie,” said Molly. “Always have, and always will. Because they do things like this to people. To their own people.”
“I would have taken your place if I could, Eddie,” said the Armourer. “I would have given up my torc to take another run at Casino Infernale. I volunteered. Argued my case before the rest of the Council. I would have spared you this, if I could. But the family wouldn’t let me go. Apparently, I’m too valuable to risk in the field. I had to fight them just to be allowed to take you to the Summit on Mars. I wanted you to have some fun first.”
“It’s . . . all right, Uncle Jack,” I said.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “It’ll never be right between us again. I’ve poisoned what we had, for the family.”
We sat a while longer, each of us lost in our separate thoughts. The Armoury seemed surprisingly quiet, subdued. Molly wouldn’t let go of my hand. The pain was gone; the shock was gone. I just felt . . . cold. Finally, the Armourer forced himself up out of his chair, his face calm and composed again, as though nothing had happened. He was just a man with a job to do. He searched through the various drawers under his desk, brought out a hefty buff envelope, and handed it to me. I made myself take it, and look inside. Molly looked too, and wrinkled her nose at the wad of documents and papers.
“What’s this?” she said. “You want him to sign a disclaimer, so he won’t sue you?”
“This is what those in the field call a legend,” he said, ignoring the anger still dripping from every word she spoke. “Spy talk for a complete set of documents, all the paperwork an agent needs to support his identity in the world. Driving license, photo IDs, credit cards, old letters and photos, everything to prove Shaman Bond has a real history in the world. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t need it. He’s a familiar face in the scene. But this is Casino Infernale, so we don’t take chances.”
I leafed quickly through the various papers, and then distributed them here and there about my person.
“Don’t I get a legend?” said Molly. Her voice made it clear that while she hadn’t forgiven him, she was ready to play the game again if I was.
“Use your own,” said the Armourer. “Just be yourself. They’ll have heard of you. In fact, you’re exactly the kind of person they’d expect to turn up for the games. And, hopefully, your infamous reputation will help to hold everyone’s attention, and distract the Security people from seeing your companion as anyone but the shifty and shady Shaman Bond. You shine brightly, so he can hide in your shadow. . . .”
“Is that it?” I said. “Are we done now?”
“Not just yet,” said the Armourer. “I was wondering if you might like to leave the Martian artefact with me. The one the Tombs forced on you? I would like to study it.”
“No,” I said. “The Tombs wanted me to have it.”
“You see?” said the Armourer. “I’d find that worrying.”
• • •
There was one more stop before Molly and I could leave the Hall. The Armourer took it upon himself to personally lead us back through the Hall, and accompany us all the way to Vanity Faire, the Droods’ very own costume department. (Named after the novel, not the magazine.) A great store full of clothes and costumes and outfits suitable for every occasion, in every culture and country. Field agents have to fit in, if they want to go unnoticed.
The Armourer threw the door open with a flourish, revealing row upon row of clothing racks, groaning under the weight of more good tatt and schmutter than you could shake a fashionable stick at. It looked like the world’s biggest jumble sale, or a going out of business sal
e. The Armourer looked at me hopefully. It was obvious he’d brought me here to try to cheer me up. So I did my best to play along.
“I don’t normally get to use this place,” I said.
“Because you hardly ever come home,” said the Armourer. “You can’t go to Casino Infernale looking like that, now can you?”
“What’s wrong with this?” I said, looking down at myself. “This is my best casual outfit.”
“That’s so casual it’s downright careless,” said the Armourer. “You look like you’re wearing your favourite old suit so your wife can’t throw it out. You need something more fitting, more glamorous, to make the scene at Casino Infernale. You have to dress up if you’re going to mix with gambling celebrities and Major Players. A Drood wouldn’t, but Shaman Bond would.”
“What about me?” Molly said immediately. “Do I get a new outfit too?”
“Of course!” said the Armourer. “Help yourself to anything you fancy!”
“Oh, you will regret saying that,” I said.
Molly gave the Armourer a hard look, to show she wasn’t finished with him yet, and then gave me a searching look. Asking without asking whether I’d be okay on my own. I nodded briefly. Molly gave my hand one last squeeze, and then went charging into the costumes department with the light of battle in her eyes.
“Caradoc!” the Armourer said loudly. “Where are you, man?”
“Is he still in charge?” I said. “He’s a bit . . .”
“He’s a lot,” said the Armourer. “But everyone in the family has the job that fits them best, and this is his. He reads all the fashion magazines, you know. . . .”
Caradoc Drood came striding forward to greet us. He knew everything there was to know about outfitting a field agent with just the right look, to blend in. Though looking at Caradoc, it was hard to think where he might ever blend in. Tall and spindly, with his overlong arms and legs, Caradoc was wearing a bright pink frock coat over white leggings and court shoes, and all in all he looked very much like a mad flamingo. He had long, slicked-back white hair, a sharp angular face, and piercing blood-red eyes. He stopped before us, struck a pose, ruffled his cravat of gold cloth with the long fingers of one hand, and looked down his nose at me.
“So!” he said, in a dark dramatic voice. “You are the incredible Edwin Drood! I was hoping they’d let me run up something special for you, to mark you as the family’s new head, but you didn’t last long enough. Hey ho . . . alackaday. And now you’re off to France, home of la belle couture. I am so jealous I could just spit. Well, well . . . what are we to make of you, so that you can walk through Casino Infernale with your head held high, Mr. Shaman Bond?”
If Caradoc were any more artificial, he’d be an android.
“I’m sure my measurements are on file here somewhere,” I said.
“Oh, we have everyone’s measurements,” said Caradoc. “If only so the shroud will fit . . . what am I going to do with you? Is there time for plastic surgery? My little joke . . .” He considered me for a long moment, tapping at his chin with one slender finger. And then he turned and darted back into the clothes rack, disappearing into the rows. I looked at the Armourer.
“He’s got worse, hasn’t he?” I said.
“Hard to tell,” said the Armourer. “Admit it, though, you are having fun.”
“For all the wrong reasons,” I said. “Now hush—Caradoc returns from the clothing jungle.”
Caradoc deigned to offer me several outfits in a row, all of which I dismissed out of hand, just to watch his nostrils flare. I might have to play dress-up doll, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for anybody.
“Far too everyday and acceptable,” I said loftily. “Shaman Bond wouldn’t be seen dead in anything so . . . mundane.”
“This is the kind of thing they will be expecting at Casino Infernale,” said Caradoc.
“Then they’re going to be disappointed,” I said. “Which is as it should be. Shaman Bond has a long history of disappointing people.”
I strode forward into the racks and started taking things off, rejecting them, dropping them in crumpled heaps on the floor, and moving on. Caradoc hurried after me, grabbing up the clothes and hugging them to his chest, while making loud bleating sounds of distress. I was actually starting to feel a bit better. My mood always improves when I get to torment authority figures. As authority figures went, Caradoc didn’t go far, but he was present, and annoying me, so he would do. He really shouldn’t have looked down his nose at me. That’s always dangerous.
Molly kept reappearing with something big and bold and horribly expensive-looking, hanging around just long enough to say I’m having this! before dropping whatever it was onto a growing pile, and then darting back in for more. Every now and again I could locate her exact position in the fashion jungle through loud squeals of delight and the odd cry of New shoes!
I finally settled on a black goatskin leather jacket, over a blindingly white shirt, and black slacks. A bit stark, but it suited how I was feeling. Molly came back out of the clothes racks wearing a Little Black Dress, took one look at me, muttered something about not being a member of the Addams Family, and went back in again. I admired my new look in a full-length mirror, and then looked at the Armourer.
“Well?” I said. “What do you think?”
“Words fail me,” said Caradoc, bitterly.
“You’ll certainly make an impression,” said the Armourer.
Caradoc insisted on offering me a display of Old School Ties, everything from Eton to John of Gaunt, Cambridge to Oxford. On the grounds that they might impress somebody. I dismissed all of them. Shaman Bond wouldn’t wear such a thing, unless he was running a con. His past is a mystery, and quite deliberately so, so that he could claim to be from anywhere, as needed.
“Have you got any bow-ties?” I asked Caradoc. “Bow-ties are cool. The Travelling Doctor said so.”
Caradoc raised his eyes, to address the heavens. “I’m being punished for something, aren’t I? I’ll go and look. . . .”
He stomped off just as Molly returned, wearing a marvellous burgundy red evening gown, complete with all sorts of expensive accoutrements. She did a twirl for me, and the Armourer and I applauded politely. Molly grabbed up all the dresses she’d dumped in a pile, and hugged them to her.
“Designer labels, all of them! And they’re mine, all mine! Don’t they look amazing?”
The Armourer and I exchanged a look. We didn’t speak fashion.
“Wonderful,” said the Armourer.
“Charming,” I said.
“You’d better pick out some spare socks and underwear, and things,” the Armourer said vaguely. “No telling how long you’ll have to spend at the Casino. I’ll go round up some decent luggage for you. Leather, with straps. You can never have too many straps. . . .”
He disappeared into the frocky depths of the department, in search of the still missing Caradoc. Molly looked me over.
“Not bad . . .”
“Scrub up nice, don’t I?” I said.
“We can still drop everything and run,” said Molly, perfectly seriously. “They’d never find us.”
“I want my torc back,” I said. “And, I want to be the one who breaks the bank at Casino Infernale.”
• • •
All too soon we were back in the old chapel and standing before the retrieved Door, dressed to the nines, with a whole bunch of heavy designer luggage. Most of it Molly’s, though I had a pretty good idea who’d end up carrying it. I’d settled on a burgundy red bow-tie, to match Molly’s dress, and then broke Caradoc’s heart by insisting on a clip-on.
“I still don’t see why we can’t use the Merlin Glass,” I said. “At least then we’d have a way out if we need it.”
“You can’t use the Glass,” the Armourer said patiently, “because Casino Security is set up to recognise
the presence of anything that powerful. Its ownership would be a dead giveaway as to who you really are.”
“I could always say I’d stolen it,” I said. “They’d accept that, from Shaman Bond.”
“Shaman might possess the Merlin Glass, but he wouldn’t know how to keep himself safe from the Glass’ defences,” said the Armourer. “No, Eddie. Best not to risk it. The Glass stays here.”
He stepped back from the Door, shouted Nantes! France! at it, and the Door swung open at once, revealing a bright sunshiny city view. The Armourer gestured frantically for us to go through, so Molly and I quickly gathered up our luggage and made a run for it. The Door slammed shut behind us the moment we were safely on the other side, and then disappeared itself.
• • •
We were standing on an old bridge, looking out over a river. Don’t ask me which one. Very blue waters, with barges tied up at regular intervals. Bright sunshine, midday from the look of it, and the air smelled wonderfully fresh and clean. Well-preserved historical-looking houses on all sides. On the whole, I approved. People passed us by, paying us no attention at all. Which was just a bit odd, considering that as far as they were concerned, we must have appeared suddenly out of nowhere. I mentioned this to Molly, and she just shrugged.
“Part of the Door’s magic, I suppose. I’m sure they’ll start noticing us in a moment. They’d better. I didn’t squeeze into this dress with the help of a crowbar and a warm spoon just to be ignored.”
“No one would dare,” I assured her.
She looked at me steadily. “How do you feel, Eddie? Really?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I never felt like this before. Naked to the world, with all its threats and dangers. Maybe this is what being Shaman Bond really feels like. If so, he’s a braver man than me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about Shaman as though he was someone else,” said Molly. “He’s just your cover! You’re both the same man!”
“It doesn’t always feel like that,” I said. “Do you love Shaman the same way you love Eddie?”
“Of course!” she said. “They’re the same person!”
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