The Man with the Golden Torc sh-1

by Simon R. Green

  "Trace the line," I said. "By the time you can get here, I’ll be long gone. But you’ll still find something interesting waiting for you here. Now put me through to the Matriarch."

  "You know I can’t do that, Eddie. You’ve been officially declared rogue. I’m sure it’s all a terrible mistake. Tell me where you are, and I’ll send someone to pick you up."

  "I want to talk to the Matriarch."

  "She doesn’t want to talk to you, Eddie."

  "Of course she does. That’s why she’s listening in right now. Talk to me, Grandmother, and I’ll tell you about Sebastian."

  "I’m here, Edwin," said Martha Drood. I could hear the difference on the line as she went to secure mode. She knew we were about to discuss things that Penny wasn’t cleared to know. Even though Penny was officially cleared to know everything.

  "Hello, Grandmother," I said, after a pause. We both sounded so very civilised, as though this was just a little family tiff, nothing that couldn’t be settled over a nice cup of tea. "How does it feel, Martha, to be talking to a dead man? How did it feel to order the death of your own grandson?"

  "The family comes first, Edwin; you know that." The Matriarch’s voice was calm and even. "I will always do what is necessary to protect the family. All you had to do was die; and you couldn’t even get that right, could you?"

  "I would have died for you, for the family," I said, holding the phone so tightly my hand hurt. "If you’d given me a good reason, if you’d just trusted me enough to explain. I love the family, in my own way. But not anymore. You made me rogue, so rogue I’ll be."

  "Why did you call, Edwin? What do you want?"

  "To tell you about Sebastian. Who is currently very unconscious in his flat. If you were to send some people here, they could collect him while he’s helpless. And then you wouldn’t have to worry about all those information parcels he’s been holding over your heads. You see, my war is with you, Grandmother. Not with the family."

  "I am the family. I am the Matriarch."

  "Not for much longer," I said. "I’ve been digging up all your nasty little secrets, and I’m really very angry with you, Grandmother. For what’s been done in the family name. I’m coming home, and not as the prodigal son. I’m coming home for the truth, even if I have to tear the family apart to get it. See you soon, Grandmother."

  I hung up, and then just stood there for a moment. My hands were shaking. If I hadn’t already known I was dying, I’d probably have been scared. I looked around for Molly and Janissary Jane. They’d only just remembered to go through the pile of discarded trousers, looking for car keys.

  "Time to get moving, ladies. The family will be here soon."

  "Okay," said Molly. "I think we’ve done about as much damage here as we can."

  Janissary Jane drove the big black car through the streets of London because she knew the way, and because she had the car keys and refused to give them up. Molly sat in the backseat with me, arms tightly folded, sulking. She was never comfortable unless she was in charge. Janissary Jane drove far too fast and manoeuvred aggressively at all times, to keep our cover, she said, but finally we arrived at Wimbledon, still in one piece. Most people associate the name only with tennis, but these days the area is eighty percent immigrant population and a thriving small-business community. Brightly coloured posters in the shop windows advertised unusual goods in Hindi and Urdu, and here and there blue-skinned nautch dancers gyrated down the street to electric sitar music. Our black car with its impenetrable tinted windows drew many cool and thoughtful glances as we glided smoothly through the narrow streets. Eventually Janissary Jane drew up outside a hole-in-the-wall liquor store, the kind of place that’s always open, twenty-four hours a day, and there’s always a sale going on. We got out of the car, and Molly and I looked inquiringly at Janissary Jane.

  "The Blue Fairy has a studio apartment here, above the store," she said. "Brace yourselves. He’s not very house proud these days. And we’ll have to go through the shop to get to the flat, so remember, we’re here to see Mr. Blue."

  "Why…here?" I said.

  "Would you look for him here?" said Janissary Jane, and I had to nod. She had a point.

  Janissary Jane led the way into the liquor store. The walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with every kind of booze under the sun, many of them boasting labels I didn’t even recognise. The middle-aged Pakistani behind the counter greeted us cheerfully, nodding quickly when he heard we were here to see Mr. Blue.

  "Of course, indeed. Hello again, Miss Jane; it is very good to see you again. Mr. Blue is indeed upstairs and at home; you go right up. He is resting, I believe, and a bit under the weather. I am sure it will do him good to have some friendly company."

  He showed us through to the back, still smiling. We ascended some dimly lit stairs to the next floor and found a door with the right name next to a bell push. The door was standing slightly ajar. Not a good sign. I drew my Colt Repeater, Janissary Jane drew her two punch daggers, and Molly made her witch knife appear out of nowhere. I gestured for Janissary Jane and Molly to stick behind me. They ignored me, pressing silently forward, and I sighed inwardly. Janissary Jane pushed the door slowly open. It didn’t make a sound. The room beyond was dark and shadowy, even though it was still afternoon. We slipped inside one at a time, prepared for the worst, but nothing could have prepared us for what we encountered.

  The room was a mess. A real mess. The kind of mess you have to work at. My first thought was that the sitting room had been turned over by professionals looking for something, but it quickly became clear that no self-respecting professional agent would sully his hands on the general filth of this place. Grime and slime fought it out for most of the surfaces, what could be seen of the carpet was stained a dozen colours, and junk and debris formed a layer on the floor so thick we had to kick our way through it. Old clothes had piled up in the corner, perhaps for washing but more likely for burning, and takeaway food cartons clung stickily to each other. Something crunched wetly under my foot, and I really hoped it was just a cockroach. The curtains weren’t drawn, but the window glass was so thickly smeared with filth that the afternoon light had to fight its way through.

  Empty bottles stood on every surface, mostly of India Pale Ale and Bombay Gin. There were pill bottles, and not the kind you get on prescription. Crinkled tinfoil, for chasing the dragon. And half a dozen syringes, with a cigarette lighter standing by to sterilize the needles. The only thing left after this was drinking mentholated spirits straight from the bottle in a cardboard box on the Charing Cross Embankment. Assuming the Blue Fairy lived that long.

  We moved around the room as quietly as we could. No sign of any bad guys, and I was beginning to wonder if we were looking for a corpse rather than a person. I pushed open the bedroom door, and there was the Blue Fairy, lying facedown on his bed. Snoring gently and making mouth noises in his sleep. We all relaxed a little and put away our weapons. The Blue Fairy was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers well past their sell-by date and a charm bracelet around his left ankle. Janissary Jane and Molly and I had a brief but animated discussion over who was going to have to actually touch him long enough to turn him over. We played a few quick games of paper scissors rock, and I lost. I still think they cheated somehow. I took a firm hold on the Blue Fairy’s surprisingly hairy shoulder, turned him over, and yelled his name right into his face. I then backed quickly away as he sat bolt upright in bed, hacking and coughing.

  "All right, all right, I’m awake! Lay off the rough stuff; I’m delicate. Especially first thing in the morning."

  "It’s afternoon," I said.

  "To you, maybe. For me it’s the beginning of a new day and I really wish it wasn’t. You’ll have to excuse me. The old gray matter is never at its best first thing, at least until I’ve had a few cups of coffee and a ciggie. Now, who are you, what are you, and why are you persecuting a poor fairy at this ungodly hour? I didn’t order out again, did I? I could have sworn the escort agency said my
credit wasn’t any good any more, the bastards."

  He squeezed his eyes shut, coughed up half a lung, and then stared at me blearily. His eyes widened as he finally got a good look at me, and then he scooted back across the crumpled bedsheets, holding up his hands defensively, until he crashed into the headboard and couldn’t go any farther. He tried to smile but couldn’t pull it off convincingly.

  "Eddie! It’s you! If I’d known you were coming, I’d have tidied up a bit, made a bit of an effort…Help yourself to anything you like, make yourself at home…Oh, God, Eddie, don’t kill me, please! I’m no threat to you!"

  "Interesting," I said. "You should only know me as Shaman Bond. But you know my real name. How is that, Blue?"

  "I can see your torc," he said, blinking rapidly. "I’m half elf, you know. Of course you know. You Droods know everything. And I have been known to do the odd job for your family, on occasion. I have to. They give me money. Don’t kill me, Eddie, please. They made me do it!"

  "All right, Eddie, lay off him," said Janissary Jane, moving forward to stand beside me. "Hello, Blue. It’s me, Jane. You’ve got yourself into some real trouble this time, haven’t you? Even I may not be able to get you out of this one. What exactly did you do for the Droods that you’re so ashamed of?"

  "Ah, Jane," said the Blue Fairy, calming down a little. "And Molly too. How nice. Welcome to my humble abode. Excuse the mess, but I live here. And I just can’t seem to work up the enthusiasm to give a damn anymore. Terribly lax of me, I know, but that’s life these days. My life, anyway. Still, I’m glad you’re here. If one is about to die horribly, it is marginally better to do it in the company of one’s friends. Could you perhaps persuade your friend the assassin to let me put some clothes on? I really would prefer not to meet my maker wearing just my underwear."

  "Get dressed," I said, amused despite myself. "I’m not here to kill you, Blue. Just ask you some questions."

  "Wait till you hear the answers," said the Blue Fairy.

  We all backed away from the bed, and he levered himself up off the slumping mattress and pulled on a battered old silk wrap. He ran his hands through his thinning hair, took a cigarette from the pack by the bed, lit it with a fingertip, and took a deep drag. He then had another long coughing fit, accompanied by really horrible noises, and sat down on the bed again, his face gray and sweaty. He was carrying too much weight, pronounced in the jowls and puffy cheeks. His face had an unhealthy sheen, and his eyes were seriously bloodshot. The word was, he’d been quite a dandy in his time, back in the heady days of glam rock, but he hadn’t aged well. The Blue Fairy had lived not wisely but too well, and it showed. He might have been a personage to be reckoned with once, but that was long ago. Still, if he really had done half the things he was supposed to have done, in and out of bed, it was a wonder he was still here at all. Presumably even half elves are very hard to kill.

  "God, you’re a mess, Blue," said Janissary Jane. "You look worse than your room, and that’s saying something."

  "I know, I know," said Blue, drawing on his cigarette again and stifling another coughing fit through sheer effort of will. "Think of me as a work in progress. I keep hoping that if I drink enough, or ingest enough things that are bad for me, I won’t have to wake up again to this awful room, this awful life. This hole that I dug for myself, this burrow I have crawled into…But I always do. It’s hard to kill an elf, even when he’s cooperating as hard as he can. Even a half elf. Bless dear old Daddy and his rampant gonads."

  "For someone so determined to die, you seemed very concerned about me being here to kill you," I said.

  "I would prefer to go with some dignity," said the Blue Fairy. "Not kicking and screaming all the way, as you reduce me to small bloody pieces. I know how you Droods operate."

  "But why do you want to die at all?" said Molly. "If you don’t like your life, change it, turn it around. There’s still time."

  The Blue Fairy smiled fondly at her. "Ah, there speaks the innocence and optimism of youth. When life still seems full of promise and possibilities. But no one loves a fairy when he’s fifty. They want their magic from a younger bit of stuff. And my magic, sad to say, is not what it was. It faded, along with my good looks…which were magnificent, once upon a time. I was invited to all the very best parties, you know. Mixed with all the celebs, had my face in the glossies every week…But alas, we half elves bloom early and fade fast. Daddy dearest’s energies were never meant to be contained in a mostly human form. The candle that burns twice as fast…turns out not to be much of a bargain, in the end.

  "Now I’m no longer good-looking enough to hang on to all the pretty boys and pretty things that alone make life worth living. Sweet young things do still turn up in my bed, but only when I pay them. And the fortunes I once had, that I thought would last forever, are gone, long gone. On this…and that. I never worried about money until I didn’t have it any more. Which is why I have to take whatever work I can get these days. Even the jobs I know will come back to haunt me afterwards."

  "What have you done, Blue?" I said.

  He looked at me pleadingly. "I didn’t have any choice. One of your people turned up here quite unexpectedly. I didn’t think the Droods even knew I existed anymore, let alone where to find me. But he had work for me, and the money was good. Very good. And the threat behind it was very real. You don’t say no to a Drood. And since all he wanted was a little strange matter…I didn’t see the harm. Acquiring unusual objects from other dimensions is one of the few things I’m still good at. It’s in the genes, you see. I got some strange matter for your family’s Armourer once, some years back, and it must have been on file somewhere, because when they wanted some more they came to me."

  "Who did they send?" I said.

  "Matthew," said the Blue Fairy. "They always send Matthew when they’re not prepared to take ‘Go to hell’ for an answer."

  "Of course," I said. "It would have to be Matthew. He’d do anything for the family. Go on, Blue."

  The Blue Fairy blinked nervously at me, picking up on the coldness in my voice. He stubbed out the last inch of his cigarette on the bedside table and tried to sit up straight, clasping his hands together in his lap so they wouldn’t shake.

  "Well," he said, "I went fishing. That’s what I do. Drop a line into the other realms and see what I can hook. Strange matter isn’t easy to find. I call it that because I haven’t a clue what it is, or what it’s for. It’s organic…maybe alive, maybe not, and it has some…quite unique properties. Fishing the dimensions can be very dangerous, you know. You never can tell when you’ll hook something big and nasty by mistake, and then up it comes through the planes, mad as hell and looking for revenge…But I got Matthew what he wanted, and he paid me in cash right there on the spot. Good money. Far too much, for someone in my reduced circumstances. That was when I started to get suspicious. But I didn’t do anything. I had new booze to drink and new drugs to take, and…he was a Drood, after all. You don’t mess with the Droods. Then I heard you’d been ambushed by an elf lord with an arrow made of strange matter and hired by the Droods…and I knew. I felt bad, Eddie; really I did. I’ve always known you were a Drood; you can’t hide a torc from elf eyes. And we’d had some good times together, in the old Wulfshead…You bought me drinks and listened to me talk, and you never laughed at me. So after I heard…what had happened…I waited for you to come looking for me. And here you are. But you’re not here to kill me, are you? You want something."

  "The strange matter’s still in my body," I said. "And it’s killing me. Can you get me a cure?"

  "No," said the Blue Fairy, meeting my eyes steadily. "It doesn’t work that way. I need to know exactly what I’m looking for when I go fishing, or I can’t find it. And I don’t know nearly enough about strange matter to have any idea of what its counterpart might be. I’m sorry, Eddie; really I am. I didn’t know what they were going to do!"

  "Would it have made any difference if you had?" I said.

  "Probably not,"
he admitted. "It was very good money."

  "How would you like a chance to redeem yourself?" said Molly. "How would you like to go fishing for something for us?"

  "What did you have in mind?" said the Blue Fairy.

  "We need a skeleton key, to get us past the Hall’s defences," I said.

  "Is there such a thing?"

  He smiled suddenly. "Oh, yes. There is…I’ve waited years for someone to come and ask me. It’s really very simple. Quite elegant, actually. But are you sure you want to do this, Eddie? Once word gets out that the Drood’s defences have been breached…"

  "Let it," I said. "Let the whole family crash and burn, if that’s what it takes to get to the truth."

  We went out into the next room. The Blue Fairy dug through a pile of debris and came up with a very ordinary-looking fishing rod and reel. The kind of thing people use when they go fishing for recreation rather than competitive sport. The Blue Fairy then produced a knife out of nowhere, pulled up the left sleeve of his dressing gown, and made a shallow incision just above the wrist. I could see a whole series of scars reaching up his arm to the elbow, some old and some not, from where he’d done this before. Golden blood welled up from the cut, and he held his arm out over the space he’d cleared on the floor before him. The blood dripped down to form a golden pool. When it was about three or four inches in diameter, the Blue Fairy pressed his fingers against the cut and muttered under his breath, and the wound healed over immediately, leaving just another scar on his arm.

  The Blue Fairy pulled his sleeve down again, not looking at the three of us watching, and snapped out half a dozen words in Old Elvish. I caught some of it, but his accent was unfamiliar. The pool on the floor blazed suddenly with a golden light and spread out on the floor until it was almost a yard in diameter. It didn’t look like a pool of liquid anymore. Looking into it was like staring into a deep well that just kept getting deeper the longer you looked. I felt like I was off balance and might fall. I grabbed Molly’s arm for support just as she grabbed mine. We both smiled at each other a little shamefacedly. Janissary Jane didn’t look into the pool. She kept all her attention on the Blue Fairy. And she had both her punch daggers at the ready.