“Of course,” I said. “I’m a Drood.”
Sir Perryvale chuckled dryly.
“Thank you; for your help,” I said. “I do appreciate what you’re doing, what you’re putting on the line, by letting me in. Helping me. If I can ever do anything for you . . .”
“Well,” said Sir Perryvale, “could we, perhaps, have the Drood dragon? We’d be ever so grateful, and I promise we’d take very good care of it. The London Knights have wanted their very own dragon for ages and ages.”
“That’s . . . up to him,” I said. “I will ask him, when I get back, but he seems quite attached to us.” A question occurred to me. “Can I just ask: is it true that the London Knights had the Merlin Glass in their keeping for years?”
“Oh yes,” said the Seneschal, quite off-handedly. “For centuries, I think.”
“The Glass was given to my family, originally, by Merlin himself,” I said carefully. “For . . . services rendered. How did the Glass end up in your hands?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Sir Perryvale. “Ancient history, I’m afraid. Not really my field. We do have a great many items in our vaults, things that originally belonged to Merlin. King Arthur felt it important that we keep them, in case the old sorcerer ever came back to us.”
“You think that’s likely?” I said. “After all this time?”
“Why not?” the Seneschal said simply. “Arthur did. Our King came back to us, for a time. And what a glorious time that was.”
“King Arthur . . . ,” I said. There are some names that just give you goose pimples. “What was he like?”
“Everything they said he was,” said Sir Perryvale. “And so much more, besides.”
“Where is he now?”
“Gone back to his sleep. Somewhere safe. Until he’s needed again, for the Final Battle.”
“Why did you give the Merlin Glass back to us?” I said bluntly.
“Because your uncle Jack asked for it,” said Sir Perryvale. “And no, he didn’t say why.”
“And you just gave it to him? Didn’t that get you into trouble?”
The Seneschal shrugged briefly. “I’m not the only one here who owes a lot to Jack Drood.”
“Didn’t any of the Knights object?”
“Ah,” said Sir Perryvale. “I may not have actually got around to informing all of the rank and file, so to speak.”
I gave him a hard look. “Hasn’t anyone noticed it’s missing?”
“The only way we can all rub along together here, in such a confined space, is for all of us to allow each other our little secrets,” Sir Perryvale said sternly. “I’m sure there are things being kept from me . . . Now, let’s go see the oracle!”
* * *
He led me up a steep stairway, and on through a series of open stone galleries, all of them decorated with impeccable style and taste. Our footsteps sounded ominously loud and carried to me in the constant quiet.
“Is everybody gone from the Castle?” I said finally.
“No, just the Knights. Our wives and families are all gathered safely together in the Great Redoubt, at the heart of the Castle, behind all kinds of protections. They’re safe there until the Knights return. Strictly speaking, I should be in the Redoubt with them, but I was damned if I was going to miss Jack’s wake. And besides, I can never get to sleep in a strange bed. Not at my age.”
“Wives and families . . . ,” I said. “Aren’t there any female Knights?”
“Not yet,” said Sir Perryvale. “Though it is an idea whose time has pretty much come. We do change, Eddie, but only slowly. Is it really very different with the Droods? I mean, how many female field agents do you have?”
“Quite a few,” I said. “And my family is led by a Matriarch.”
“The London Knights are still mainly a religious order,” said Sir Perryvale. “And that kind of organisation is always going to be the slowest to change. By long tradition, the Knights fight, and the women provide necessary backup, here in the Castle. As doctors, teachers, historians, librarians, armourers, and spiritual councillors . . .”
“Servants?” I said.
“What? Our Ladies?” said Sir Perryvale, openly amused. “Hardly! Perish the thought . . . No, no; Castle Inconnu is full of airy spirits that take care of all the everyday, necessary things.”
We came to the Hall of Forgotten Beasts. An extremely long hall, whose walls were decorated with the stuffed and mounted heads of all kinds of fantastical creatures, many of whom were no longer part of recorded history. The only remaining examples, in some cases, of hundreds and hundreds of exotic beasts. I slowed down, despite myself, to take a better look. Sir Perryvale slowed too, reluctantly. He looked at me and didn’t like what he saw in my face.
“You have to understand,” he said as we passed slowly between the two opposing rows of preserved heads on plaques, “that for a long time, hunting was an important part of our Knightly duties. Wiping out creatures whose very existence was considered a real and present threat to Humanity’s survival. It is possible that perhaps some of those early Knights got . . . a little out of hand. We don’t do this any more, of course. Another slow change.”
“And too late,” I said, “for most of these creatures.”
“Pretty much everything on display here would have killed you quite cheerfully,” said Sir Perryvale. “Don’t get sentimental, Eddie. And, it has to be said, you’re not seeing the Hall at its best. Much of this place was destroyed during a recent elf attack. We had to rebuild the Hall and restore a great many of the exhibits . . . We lost quite a few specimens. Too damaged to be preserved. An irreplaceable loss.”
He walked on down the Hall, pointing out particular items of interest. A pure white unicorn’s head, with a vicious curlicued horn and crimson eyes blazing madly. It didn’t look like anything a maiden might want to ride. A gargoyle, with a bullet hole right in the middle of its flat, broad forehead. A basilisk with no eyes. (Obviously.) A dire wolf with moulting fur, its jaws still snarling defiance. And then I stopped and pointed at one particular head.
“What is that?”
“Ah,” the Seneschal said proudly. “That is the Questing Beast. You wouldn’t believe how many of us it took to track that down. It’s an old monster, not much valued and even less missed.”
The Questing Beast was an odd mixture of beast and bird. It looked . . . old and tired, and perhaps even a little resigned. As though it knew it had outlived the time it was meant for.
And finally . . . we came to the dragon’s head. Just the face, really. If the whole head had been there it would have blocked the Hall. The exhibit wasn’t very impressive. Its bottle-green scales were dull and dusty, and the eyes obviously glass. Some of the teeth were missing. It was just the preserved remains of something that had once been great. I looked at it and felt suddenly, coldly, angry.
“No wonder you want our dragon,” I said.
“Your dragon, by all accounts, has mellowed considerably since its time in the wild,” Sir Perryvale said evenly. “Having your head cut off, and then being left to think about things under a mound of earth for centuries, will do that to you. Your dragon is an almost civilised creature now. In their own time, dragons were nasty, vengeful, and quite deadly beasts. Killers of men, women, and especially children. Destroyers of whole communities. A lot of good Knights went to their deaths bringing this creature down. We thought the breed was extinct, until we learned of your find in Germany, out by Castle Frankenstein.”
“What do the London Knights want with our dragon?” I said. “To finish the job?”
“No,” said Sir Perryvale. “We wish . . . to honour it. If there’s one thing Knights understand, it’s the need to do penance.”
I looked up and down the Hall, taking in all the heads on display. “You know, in these days of DNA retrieval and forced cloning, it might actually be possib
le to bring some of these beasts back. Under carefully controlled conditions.”
“I’d like that,” said Sir Perryvale. “I think a lot of us would.”
“So you could hunt them again?”
“No, so they could be returned to the wild. It’s a terrible burden to know you’re responsible for the extinction of a species.”
“I think we could work something out,” I said.
“I’ll have a word with the Grand Commander when he returns,” said the Seneschal. “I think it would do both the Knights and the Droods good to have some project we could work on together.”
“It would be good,” I said, “to have something in common.”
“Oh, there are a few things we can all agree on,” said Sir Perryvale, setting off down the Hall again. “If only that the Nightside should be utterly wiped out.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I said. “Terrible place.”
“I don’t know what your uncle Jack saw in it,” said Sir Perryvale, “but he spent enough time there . . .”
* * *
In the end, the Seneschal led me up a long, winding stairway, with frequent rests for him to get his breath back. Finally, he unlocked a door at the very top of the stairs and led me into a great circular stone chamber. Something about the room made me feel as though I was at the top of a tower. Given that there were still no windows to show what was outside, there was no way of confirming it, but that was what it felt like to me. A tower inside a castle? I shrugged mentally. Castle Inconnu was very old, and it kept its secrets to itself.
The chamber was wide and airy and open, dominated by a great circular well that took up most of the available space. A well, inside a tower, inside a castle . . . Good thing I was a Drood. We believe six impossible things before breakfast, just to keep our hand in. The chamber was a good sixty feet in diameter, and fifty feet of it was the well. The containing rim was polished stone, only a few feet high. When I leaned over the rim to look into the well, I was hit in the face by the sharp smell of the sea. And when I looked down, into the murky waters . . . all I could see was endless darkness, falling away forever, looking back at me. Suddenly vertigo hit me, and I swayed on my feet. Sir Perryvale grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. I shook my head hard and glared at him.
“What kind of oracle is this?”
“The Lady of the Lake,” Sir Perryvale said proudly. “The Lady Gaea herself. Mother Earth.”
I had to think about that for a moment. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Our Lady of ancient days, the bestower of Excalibur. We serve her, we protect her, we belong to her. And in return she tells us what we need to know. I’m hoping she’ll extend that same courtesy to you.” He put a steady hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re worried about Molly. But our oracle really does know everything. She can help.”
I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Not just because I was finally close to learning the truth about what had happened to Molly, but also because the comforting hand on my shoulder reminded me so much of the Armourer.
And then we both looked round sharply as we heard heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs, towards the chamber. I looked at Sir Perryvale.
“That sounds a lot like armoured feet to me. You assured me all the Knights were gone!”
“Most of them are!” Sir Perryvale looked unhappily at the closed door. “But of course, a few always stay behind to guard the Castle. Can’t leave the old place undefended, can we? I was rather hoping we’d be done and gone before they noticed anything was amiss.”
The door slammed open, and a young man in full armour burst in, holding a drawn sword out before him. He studied us both with cold, angry eyes, sweeping his long blade back and forth before him. He dismissed the Seneschal with a contemptuous sniff, and then fixed his glare on me. I really didn’t like the look of his armour. It wasn’t ceremonial, or a work of art, or in any way symbolic. This was battle armour, designed to keep its wearer alive in the most desperate and dangerous of situations. Gleaming heavy steel-plate armour, covering the young man from head to toe, expertly fashioned and entirely unadorned. No engravings or decorations, not even a patterned tabard to add a touch of colour. The blunt steel helmet covered his entire head, with just a Y-shaped slot at the front for eyes and nose and mouth.
And the sword he carried was a heavy brutal thing, a butcher’s blade, a killing tool.
Sir Perryvale took a cautious step forward, and the sword immediately moved to cover him. Sir Perryvale stopped where he was.
“Sir Bors,” he said. “I thought you were occupied with the Lady Vivienne.”
“Did you really think she wouldn’t notice?” said Sir Bors. From his voice, he seemed to be barely into his twenties, but he still gave every appearance of being extremely dangerous. The sword and armour helped, but this was clearly a man with warrior’s training.
“I did hope this confrontation wouldn’t be necessary, yes,” said Sir Perryvale. “Allow me to present my guest . . .”
“He’s a Drood!” said Sir Bors. He made my family name sound like an obscenity.
“Quick, isn’t he?” Sir Perryvale said to me.
“A damned Drood!” said Sir Bors.
Sir Perryvale shook his head. “You’re going to be awkward, aren’t you?”
“Sir Bors,” I said, and the cold eyes snapped back to me. So did the sword. I gave the Knight my best charming smile. “Nice to meet you. You look . . . very martial. Do you always wear your armour inside the Castle?”
“Only when we’re expecting trouble,” said Sir Bors. “Stand still! Don’t move!” He glared at the Seneschal. “What were you thinking? You should never have let him in!”
“That was my decision to make,” Sir Perryvale said coldly. “My prerogative as Seneschal. My guest is here because he needs to consult the oracle . . .”
“Not going to happen,” Sir Bors said immediately. “You know that’s strictly forbidden to outsiders. And we definitely don’t do Droods any favours.”
“Why are you here, Sir Bors?” said Sir Perryvale.
“I’m going to take this Drood away, lock him up somewhere secure, and leave him there,” said Sir Bors, “until the army and the Grand Commander return. Sir Kae can make the decision of what should be done with this . . . intruder. And then I’ll see you prosecuted for dereliction of duty, Seneschal! I’ll see you relieved of your position! You let the wolf in at the gate . . .”
“Just because you’re humping the Lady Vivienne,” Sir Perryvale said calmly, “don’t think for a moment that means you share her exalted station. You weren’t her first, and you won’t be her last. I’ll set my decades of service to the Castle against your calculated outrage any day.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but how long before Sir Kae returns?”
“Weeks,” said Sir Bors. “Maybe months.”
“I can’t wait that long,” I said. “Molly Metcalf has been kidnapped, and I need access to your oracle to find out where she’s been taken. Just let me ask my questions, and I’ll be on my way . . .”
“You don’t get to make conditions, Drood,” Sir Bors said loudly. “Everyone knows you can’t trust a Drood! And if your notorious witch has gone missing, good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Please don’t kill him,” Sir Perryvale said quickly to me. “He’s young, and he means well.”
“You’re right,” I said to Sir Perryvale. “He is going to be awkward. And I don’t have the time or the inclination to be diplomatic about this.”
I armoured up, and Sir Bors fell back a step as my strange matter armour wrapped around me in a moment. Even when you think you know what to expect, your first sight of a Drood in his golden armour is always going to be a heart-stopping experience. Armour supple as flesh, openly unnatural, impossibly strong and fast, and a mask with no features. Not even any eyes. That always upsets people; which is why w
e do it. I grew a long golden sword out of my armoured right glove, and Sir Bors immediately dropped into a fighter’s crouch, his sword extended before him. At least he looked like he knew what he was doing. I didn’t want this to be over too quickly. Not after what he’d said about Molly.
I moved forward, and his sword leapt for my throat. I parried it easily with my golden blade. The two swords slammed together in a shower of sparks, and I think both of us were a little surprised that neither blade shattered. We circled each other slowly, studying each other’s form.
“Merlin gave your family a Glass,” said Sir Bors. “He gave us enchanted swords and armour!”
I cut at his head with my sword, and he parried at the last moment. Our blades flashed back and forth, as we went round and round in the limited space available to us in the gap between the well and the door. Sir Perryvale retreated quickly, out of the way. Sir Bors was a lot more experienced at sword-fighting than I was. I blocked most of his attacks easily enough, but a swift feint caught me off guard, and his sword-point slammed into my ribs. The strange matter held against his enchanted steel, and while he hesitated for a moment, surprised, I stuck my blade into his ribs. His spelled armour held off my strange matter sword in its turn. I swore under my breath. This was going to complicate things.
I looked him over carefully, searching out the weak spots in his armour. The elbows and the knees and the groin, obviously; and the Y-shaped slot at the front of his helmet. But most of those were killing blows, and I really didn’t want to do that. Sir Bors was just defending his home.
And I had meant it when I swore I didn’t want to kill again.
From a Drood to A Kill: A Secret Histories Novel Page 23