Casino Infernale sh-6

by Simon R. Green

  “You’re not the man I knew,” said Molly.

  Coll turned abruptly to face me. “You’ve got a deal, Drood. Everything I know, every dirty deal and trick I’ve been involved with, everything I know about the Regent of Shadows, and everything I haven’t told you about Molly’s parents. Just—protect me! That’s your job, isn’t it, Drood?”

  I looked at Molly. “He’s right. It is. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. What do you need, Molly? You tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it for you.”

  “Oh, hell,” said Molly. “Let him live. He’s too pathetic to kill, now. And just maybe . . . he might know things that I still want to know.”

  “Stand back,” I said to Coll. “Give me room to work.”

  I summoned up my armour, and it slipped around me in a moment. I felt faster, stronger, sharper; more than enough to deal with a living Horse god. I moved forward, to stand facing the closed front door. The sound of hooves was very clear, very close. The sound of a massive, gigantic Horse. Its every step shook the floor. The sounds approached the door, came right up to it, and then walked right through solid wood without even pausing. The hoof sounds were right there in the hallway with us, advancing steadily, and still I couldn’t see the White Horse, even with the augmented Sight my armour gave me. Heavy steps filled the hall, shaking the floor and the walls. I looked back.

  Coll hadn’t moved. He just stood there and stared at the sounds, his face deathly pale, his eyes wide. I think perhaps he saw what I couldn’t. I stood between him and the sounds of the advancing Horse. My hands clenched into golden fists, spikes protruding from the knuckles. Molly came forward to stand beside me, stray magics sparking and spitting on the air around her.

  “You can’t have him,” she said, raising her voice. “He’s a thug and a coward and a murderer, but vengeance is mine, not yours.”

  The horse sounds just kept coming; so loud now they hurt my ears, even inside my armour. The floor shook, and the portraits on the walls swung back and forth, slamming into each other. The White Horse had to be right in front of me now. I braced myself, ready to throw a punch the moment anything touched me. Molly raised her glowing hands. And the Horse went right through us, invisible, and intangible as a thought. The sounds were behind us. I spun round, just in time to see Hadrian Coll throw up his hands to ward off something only he could see. And then the light went out of his eyes, and he fell to the floor, and didn’t move again.

  The sounds stopped. No more sense of something else, so much more than human, in the hallway. Silence. I checked Coll’s body. He was quite dead. Not a mark on him, anywhere, apart from the look of sheer horror on his face. The Horse had trampled his soul.

  “It is a terrible thing, to look into the face of a living god,” murmured Molly.

  “Coll isn’t the problem any more,” I said, getting up. “The White Horse is the problem now. We can’t let it run free. How do we stop something like that?”

  Molly looked at the body of the man who had been her friend and her tutor, and there was nothing in her face. Nothing at all. She turned away.

  “Do we really have to stop it?” she said, her voice entirely calm. “I mean, it’s just a horse. Let it run free. Like a wild thing should.”

  “It didn’t end up under that barrow by choice,” I said. “Its own priests put it there. Like you said, we have to consider its state of mind. Imprisoned for centuries, then released by people who only wanted to control and use it. If it really has been building up its power, all these centuries, now it no longer has Coll to pursue. . . . It could trample the whole world under its hooves.”

  * * *

  We left Monkton Manse and went outside. We could hear the White Horse running down on the beach below. I led the way to the edge of the cliff, and we looked up and down the beach; but there was no sign of the Horse anywhere.

  “I thought you could See anything through your mask?” said Molly.

  “So did I,” I said. “I thought you could See anything with your witchy Sight?”

  Molly frowned, thought for a moment, and then carefully pronounced a very old and powerful Word, not meant for human vocal chords. And just like that, the White Horse was there. Impossibly huge, bigger than Monkton Manse, running not on the beach itself, but several feet above it. Dazzlingly white, brighter than the moon, running wild in the night, its unnatural brilliance reflected across the dark waters of the heaving sea. Running for the sheer joy of running; beauty and grace blazing in its every movement. Just to look at such a thing seized my heart. A living idea, too pure and too perfect for this small and grubby world.

  “All right,” said Molly. “Now we can see it. What are we going to do?”

  I armoured up, covering myself from head to toe in gleaming gold. “We go down to the beach,” I said.

  I led the way down the steps cut into the cliff face. Molly stuck close behind me, stray magics sputtering on the air around her. When we reached the bottom and moved off along the pebbled beach, the White Horse was still cantering along, ignoring us. It looked even bigger, up close. Wild and majestic, and utterly untamed.

  “I have to wonder what it’s still doing here,” said Molly. “I mean, with Hadrian dead, all those who might have bound the Horse again are gone. If it’s so keen to trample the world, like you said, what’s it still doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it’s just doing a lap of triumph round the Island. It doesn’t matter. The White Horse is a threat to all Humanity, and I have to stop it here, while I still can.”

  “How the hell are you going to stop something as big as that?” said Molly. “Walk up and punch it in the ankle?”

  “Drood armour isn’t just about strength and protection,” I said. “Watch, and learn. And keep your magics handy, just in case this all goes horribly wrong.”

  I concentrated on the strange matter of my armour, and a long golden line fell from my right hand, more and more of it falling in coils, until finally I had a long gold lariat in my hand. I formed a noose, and threw it high up into the air and right over the head of the massive White Horse. The golden lariat fell into place before the Horse even knew what was happening. The noose tightened around its great white neck, and the glowing golden line snapped taut.

  Immediately, I was pulled forward by the sheer impetus of the Horse; but I dug my golden heels deep into the pebbled beach. The Horse dragged me on, so that I left two deep channels behind me in the beach; but the strength and power of my armour was more than a match for any living god. The White Horse slowed, shrinking all the time, until finally it was just a horse; and then it came to a sudden halt—shaking and shuddering, and tossing its head. I walked steadily forward, keeping a steady pressure on the golden line. Just a man and a horse now, and the bridle I’d made to break its spirit.

  I called the golden line back into my glove, a few feet at a time, as I came to stand beside the horse. It stood very still. The long white face turned to look at me, with old, dark, very wise eyes. We looked at each other for a while. I heard Molly hurrying up to join me, but I couldn’t look away. I reached slowly out, took hold of the golden noose around the horse’s neck, loosened it, and pulled it over the horse’s head. The golden lariat snapped back into my glove, and was gone. I armoured down, and nodded to the horse, as Molly came to stand beside me.

  “You were never a threat to the world, were you?” I said to the horse. “Just to those few poor fools who were so scared of you, that they tried to break you to their will. The one thing a creature of the wild like you could never stand. That’s why your old priests put you under the mound; because you didn’t give a damn about being worshipped. You just wanted to run free. So, go. Run free, as you were meant to.

  “My people are the Droods. If you ever get tired of running, and you’d like some company, come and find us. You’d be very welcome. We’ve already got a dragon. You would be safe there, I promise you; free from all harm. But for now . . . run free!”

 
; The White Horse reared up, growing larger and larger, until he was as big as the night sky, and then he turned and ran off across the sea, his hooves pounding on the waves until he disappeared into the night.

  “You old softy, you,” said Molly.

  “I’ve always had a fondness for wild things,” I said. “How are you feeling now, Molly?”

  “More like myself,” she said. “I wanted answers, and I found them here; just like the Regent promised. But I can’t say I’m any wiser, or happier. We have to go back, Eddie. I need to talk to your grandfather about all the things he did as the Regent of Shadows.”

  “Of course you do,” I said. “I have a few questions I need to put to him myself.”

  “I know he’s your long-lost grandfather,” said Molly. “I know how much he means to you, and I know he’s done a lot to redeem himself. But I still have questions.”

  “Take it from me,” I said. “Answers aren’t everything. Are you ready to go?”

  “Hell, yes,” said Molly. “I never want to see this place again.”

  “Then let’s get out of the cold,” I said.

  I took out the Merlin Glass, and this time it worked perfectly. I shook the hand mirror out to full size, big as a door, and concentrated on the coordinates of the Regent’s private office at the Department of the Uncanny. We both stepped through the dimensional door. And then we both stood very still, as the mirror snapped shut behind us.

  We were standing in the Drood family Armoury, deep under Drood Hall, facing my uncle Jack, the Armourer. I glared at him.

  “You interrupted the spatial transfer!” I said. “You diverted us here! I didn’t know you could do that.”

  He smiled smugly. “I am the one who wrote out the operating manual for the Merlin Glass, remember? Which I am ready to bet you still haven’t finished reading yet. It doesn’t matter. Eddie, Molly—you need to come with me. You’re needed. All hell has broken loose.”

  “Oh, not again,” said Molly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Half as Old as Time

  Molly gave my uncle Jack her best cold hard glare, the kind that could punch a hole through a stone wall. The Armourer glared right back at her. And I quietly took several steps back to let them get on with it, because I knew better than to get involved. There was no way this was going to end well, for anyone involved, and the best I could hope for was to find something large and solid to hide behind, for when they started throwing things. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t just make things worse, so I removed myself from the firing range, and took a look around.

  The Drood family Armoury looked much the same as it always did. Lots of sound and fury, signifying things going bang. Lots of white-coated lab assistants hurrying back and forth between workstations and testing grounds, trying out brand-new versions of weapons of messy destruction. You have to be brave and talented and a mechanical genius to work in the Armoury; but it does also help if you’re completely lacking in self-preservation instincts. It’s a wonder to me we haven’t bred the lab assistant gene out of the Drood family, through extreme testing to destruction. But, there’s always a long waiting list to get in, proving once again the triumph of optimism over experience. There’s pride and honour and worth to the family to be found in the Armoury, if you last long enough.

  One young woman was knocking chunks off a stone golem, using depleted-uranium knuckle-dusters. The golem was looking pretty peeved about it. Someone who’d turned himself invisible could be heard barging about and banging into things, while swearing loudly and bitterly at the world in general, because the field that stopped light getting out also stopped light getting in. So he couldn’t see anything. Or even find the OFF switch . . . and two interns who’d developed a highly miniaturised and very powerful explosive device, and then dropped it, were scrabbling around on the floor on all fours, trying to find the bloody thing before the timer ran out. Just another day in the Drood Armoury. I always enjoyed my visits. As long as I was careful where I put my feet.

  Reluctantly, I turned back to Molly and the Armourer, who were now standing face to face, eyeballing each other so closely they could hardly blink without entangling their eyelashes. It would have been funny if the emotions involved hadn’t been so raw, and so dangerous. Molly had discovered what she’d always thought she wanted—the truth concerning the death of her parents. And it had stabbed her in the heart. Being Molly, she dealt with the pain by spreading it around.

  “Give control of the Merlin Glass back to Eddie,” Molly said flatly. “I have to get to the Department of the Uncanny. I have questions to put to the Regent.”

  “Ah,” said the Armourer. And just like that the fire went out of his eyes, and he stepped back. He sighed, almost sadly. “You’ve found out, then.”

  Molly was so surprised, she almost forgot to be angry. “You knew?”

  I was thrown, myself. “You knew the Regent of Shadows killed her parents? And you never said anything?”

  “Of course I knew,” said the Armourer. He sat down in a handy chair. I sometimes forget how old he is, and how sudden shocks can drive the strength right out of him. Like most of my family he’s fine with violence, but has trouble with emotions. He looked suddenly tired, and frail. A tall and stooped man of more than middle age, wearing a grubby white lab coat with many chemical stains and burns, over a T-shirt bearing the legend BORN TO KILL PEOPLE WHO NEED KILLING. Two shocks of tufty white hair jutted out over his ears, under a bulging bald pate. He always looked like he carried the cares of the world on his shoulders, and couldn’t wait to do something really unpleasant to the people who put them there. He was an excellent field agent, in his day. Like his father before him, my grandfather Arthur, the Regent of Shadows. The Armourer sighed heavily.

  “I always meant to talk to you about this, Molly. But somehow it never seemed to be the right time. And you were so pleased to find your missing grandfather, Eddie; I didn’t want to spoil it for you. But yes, I know. I’ve always known. I was still part of the family Council, back then, deciding policy, and enforcement . . .” He looked steadily at Molly. “You mustn’t think too harshly of the Regent. He only ever did what the family asked of him. He still thought there was a chance he might be allowed to come home.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Molly. “Nothing matters, except getting to the truth. Right to the bottom of it.”

  “Hadrian Coll claimed my grandfather had a reputation for killing work,” I said. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “We’re not responsible for the way the world is,” said the Armourer. “But we are responsible for doing whatever’s necessary to preserve it from those who would corrupt and destroy it.”

  “Stop,” said Molly. “No excuses, no distractions. I don’t care what the Droods’ current emergency is . . .”

  “Don’t care was made to care,” the Armourer said mildly. “Especially since the current emergency is mostly of your making.”

  “Oh, hell,” I said. “What have I done now?”

  “No!” Molly said fiercely. “I am not going to be reasonable, I am not going to listen to you, I am not going to be guilt-tripped by you! To hell with this. Keep your Merlin Glass; I’ll teleport myself out of here.” She looked at me. “Well?”

  “You know I want to come with you,” I said. “I don’t want you facing the Regent alone. But, I think I ought to at least find out what this new emergency is.”

  “This is why you’ll never be free of your family,” said Molly. “Even after everything they’ve done to you, they still have a hold on you. The Droods just use people, Eddie; I thought I’d taught you that. Don’t look at me that way . . . you stay if you want. I’m going.”

  She concentrated . . . and then looked shocked when nothing happened. The Armourer cleared his throat, in an almost apologetic way.

  “The Armoury has very powerful shields, my dear. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. It’s safer for everyone, that way. . . .”

  “Then lower your s
hields.” Molly’s voice had never sounded colder.

  I slowly realised that it had grown unusually quiet in the Armoury. I looked carefully around me, and found that all the lab assistants had stopped what they were doing to watch the infamous and much feared Molly Metcalf go head-to-head with the Armourer. Some of them were quietly turning strange weapons and unusual devices in her direction. And, in mine. The assistants put their lives on the line every day, not just in service to the family, but in service to the Armourer. They admired and adored him, to a man and a woman. And they were more than ready to kill anyone who threatened him.

  Sometimes, I forget that Molly had spent years at war with the Droods over the death of her parents. I had forgiven Molly her many sins, but my family hadn’t. Still, if the family was determined to make me choose between them and my Molly . . . the family would regret it. I smiled easily around me, and was pleased to see several of the lab assistants flinch. I moved forward, to stand beside Molly. Her whole body was painfully tense, her face dangerously cold.

  “Lower your shields,” Molly said to the Armourer. “Or else.”

  It’s always hard when you’re forced to choose between people you love. Especially when there’s a whole bunch of heavily armed people watching you with narrowed eyes, fully prepared to blow you into small meaty chunks if they don’t like your decision. So I braced myself and stepped very firmly between Molly and the Armourer.

  “Everybody calm the fuck down,” I said. “Or there will be tears before bedtime.”

  “You just can’t bring yourself to do it, can you, Eddie?” said Molly. “No matter how many times you leave the family, they always drag you back in, to do their dirty work.”

  “I’m trying really hard not to choose a side,” I said. “I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

  “Well, tough,” said Molly. “That’s not an option. You’re either with me, or against me. Don’t try to argue! I’m not interested! I’ve waited too long for the truth about my parents’ death to be stopped by anyone.”