“It’s been ten years,” I said. “Can’t it wait just a few minutes more . . . ?”
“You got your parents back!” said Molly loudly. There were tears in her eyes. “Mine are still dead! All I’ve got left is the truth.”
I nodded, slowly, and turned to face the Armourer. “Let her go, Uncle Jack. Whatever this is, you don’t need her. You need me. So let her go. I’ll stay, if you let her leave.”
“Honourable as ever, Eddie,” said the Armourer. “You know I’ve always been so proud of you . . . but unfortunately being reasonable won’t do it, this time. You both have to stay, because you’re both needed. The family requires your assistance in this emergency.”
“Okay,” I said. “Stuff the family.”
I armoured up, and the golden strange matter flowed around me in a moment. Molly and I moved quickly to stand back to back, ready to stand off anything the lab assistants might throw at us. I showed them a golden fist, with heavy spikes rising from the knuckles. Molly raised one hand, and dark and vicious magics flared around it. Most of the lab assistants did the sensible thing, and ran for cover. The rest turned their guns and devices on us, with steady hands and wide scared eyes. And then the Armourer cleared his throat loudly, and everyone turned to look. He was holding up a small green plastic clicker, in the shape of a cartoon frog.
“I designed this for emergencies,” he said calmly. “It shuts down armour and magic, temporarily. I can strip you both of what makes you strong; but I can’t guarantee to give it back to you.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Molly.
“Only in self-defence,” said the Armourer.
Molly shot me a quick glance, and I shrugged quickly at her. “We haven’t got this far by being sensible. I’m game, if you are.”
“You’re really ready to go to war with your family, over me?” said Molly.
“Looks like it.”
“What about your old motto: anything, for the family?”
“I got a new one: anything, for you.”
“My lovely hero. All right, let’s do it. No magic, no armour; but . . . they still never met anyone like us. I’ve got a spare knife in my boot, if you need it.”
“No!” said the Armourer. He lowered the clicker, though I noticed he didn’t put it away. He looked quickly from me to Molly, and back again. “Please, just listen to what I have to say. Let me explain why your help is so necessary. If you don’t agree, then you’re both free to go.”
It was my turn to look at Molly. “I would like to hear what all this is about. But if you really need to do this . . .”
Molly considered the matter for a worryingly long moment, and then shrugged, and relaxed, just a little. “You’ve fought your family over me before, Eddie. I know where you stand. I’ve no right to ask you to do it again. The Regent . . . can wait. Talk, Armourer.”
I armoured down, and Molly let her magics dissipate into the air. The lab assistants lowered their various weapons, and wandered off for a quiet sit-down and a nice cup of tea, until the shakes wore off. The Armourer shook his head slowly, and put away his clicker.
“I swear to God, you two put years on me. Come with me now, and all will be made clear to you.”
He led the way out of the Armoury, and I hurried after him, with Molly bringing up the rear. I moved in close beside the Armourer.
“You were bluffing with that clicker, weren’t you, Uncle Jack?”
“I’ll never tell,” he said easily. “Good to have you back, nephew.”
* * *
We passed quickly through the wide corridors and packed passageways of Drood Hall, past paintings and sculptures of incredible value and antiquity, by names you’d know; the loot of generations of Droods, presented to us by a presumably grateful Humanity. Luxuries and comforts everywhere, wood-panelled walls and thick carpeting, along with objets d’art and objets trouvés that went back centuries. It was good to see the old place again; my bad memories were mostly of the family, rather than the Hall itself. And it was all made much easier by the knowledge that whatever the family said or did, I wasn’t staying.
People rushed back and forth, on missions of their own, and I spotted familiar faces here and there. Most of them seemed surprisingly pleased to see me. I hadn’t been this popular when I was running the family. Perhaps especially then. I was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy. The only time my family is ever pleased to see me is when they need me to do something for them. Usually something really unpleasant and spectacularly dangerous.
“I had no idea I was this popular,” I said dryly to the Armourer.
“You’re not,” he said, not even slowing his pace enough to glance around. “It’s just that something really bad is coming, headed straight for us, and you’re all we’ve got to put in its way.”
“Situation entirely bloody normal, then,” I said.
“Actually, no,” said the Armourer. “This particular situation shows every sign of being so bad it’s beyond the family’s abilities to deal with it. We’ve had to call a Summit Meeting.”
I just blinked at him for a while, utterly astonished. “But . . . that hasn’t been necessary for . . . what? Decades?”
“Oh, at least,” said the Armourer. “That’s how important and scarily dangerous this situation is. Major threat, red alert, atomic batteries to power and turbines to speed. So bad, in fact, that we’re already looking to you to pull one of your last-minute miracle saves out of the hat, one more time. Especially since this is all your fault anyway. You and Molly.”
“I just knew this whole mess would turn out to be our fault,” I said solemnly to Molly. “Didn’t you just know it would all turn out to be our fault?”
“Might be your fault,” Molly said briskly. “Not mine. Nothing is ever my fault. What’s a Summit Meeting?”
“Panic stations,” I said. “Whenever something comes along that’s too big for any single organisation to deal with, they ring the alarm bell and circle the wagons, and send out a call to all the major secret organisations, to talk things over. And see if there’s anything they can do together. And given how much these organisations distrust each other, and hate each other’s guts, you can see how serious things would have to get before they’d agree to talk to each other.”
“Should I be getting worried, about now?” said Molly.
“I passed worried long ago,” I said. “I have already reached deeply disturbed, and am heading into pant-wetting territory.”
“And you’re the one who persuaded me to stay,” said Molly. “I should have gone riding on the Horse.”
* * *
We came at last to the Sanctity, the huge open chamber at the heart of Drood Hall. I relaxed a little, despite myself, as I strode through the open double doors and into the massive room. The whole chamber was suffused with a marvellous rose red light that sank into my bones and into my soul, like a blessing. Molly and the Armourer smiled too, because it’s impossible to feel angry or scared or worried for long, in the presence of the Droods’ other-dimensional entity, Ethel. She has no physical presence in our world, or at least none she’ll admit to, but the rosy light is a sign of her presence. She manifests in the Sanctity as a feeling of contentment, love, and protection made real in the world. Ethel gives us our strange-matter armour, and is our very own guardian and protector. Probably. It’s hard to be sure, with an entity that’s downloaded itself into our world from a higher reality. She does seem honestly fond of us.
“Eddie! Molly!” her voice rose happily on the air. “Yes! It’s so good to have you both back again! How was Scotland? Did you bring me back a present?”
“Not as such,” I said. “You’re so hard to buy for, Ethel. What do you give the other-dimensional entity who is everything?”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Ethel said sulkily. “I never get any presents.”
“There might be a nice horsey in your future,” said Molly. “If you’re good.”
“Ooh! Ooh! I love ponies!” said Eth
el, immediately cheerful again.
“Let us talk about the Summit Meeting,” I said determinedly. “To start with, where’s the rest of the Drood Council?”
“They won’t be joining us,” the Armourer said immediately. “They don’t need to be here. The debating is over. All future decisions will be made at the Summit.”
“I’m still not clear on why this Summit is so necessary,” said Molly. “I thought you Droods decided everything that mattered, and all the other groups just . . . specialised?”
“We do like to give that impression,” said the Armourer. “And a lot of the time, it’s true. But not always.”
“The Summit invites representatives from all the major secret organisations across the world,” I said. “Including the ones we don’t normally admit exist. Which goes a long way to explaining how rare these Summits are. Most of these groups would rather see the whole planet go up in flames than cooperate with a hated rival. We’ll be lucky if a dozen groups answer the call.”
“This Summit is necessary,” said the Armourer. “The invitations have gone out, and some representatives are already on their way. The current situation is quite possibly the biggest and the worst problem we’ve faced in a long time. . . .”
“Oh, bloody hell,” I said. “It’s not the Loathly Ones again, is it? I thought we’d finished off the Hungry Gods?”
“Nothing so straight forward, I’m afraid,” said the Armourer. He paused then, and his mouth twisted, as though bothered by a bitter taste. “This . . . is all about the Crow Lee Inheritance.”
“What?” I said.
“What kind of inheritance?” said Molly. “Is there any money involved? Only I have been running a bit short lately . . .”
“How can you be running short?” I said. “What about all the gold bullion . . .”
“Hush,” Molly said immediately. “He doesn’t need to know about that.”
“When you two killed The Most Evil Man In The World,” the Armourer said patiently, “all his many followers, enemies, and rivals started fighting among themselves over who would gain control of what Crow Lee left behind. His hidden hoard of secrets, unimaginable wealth, objects of power, blackmail material . . . etc., etc. We’ve had to send field agents rushing back and forth all over the world, stopping warring forces and stamping out supernatural bush-fires before they can spread. In secret bases and subterranean galleries, in every major city you can think of, the word is spreading . . . that there is one hell of a prize to be won. We’re being run ragged just trying to keep a lid on things, and the real war hasn’t even started yet. The Major Players and Individuals of Note are holding back, for the moment, letting the lesser forces exhaust themselves on each other, but that won’t last. Things are already bad, but they’re going to get much worse.”
“Hold everything,” I said. “We have been through this before. The Independent Agent was supposed to have left a hoard behind. Treasure beyond belief, secrets that would shock the world, magical and super-science weapons powerful enough to make anyone master of the world. And none of that ever amounted to anything. All bluff and bullshit. Just part of the myth such people create. Are we sure this Crow Lee Inheritance really exists?”
“Were we mentioned in the will?” said Molly. “I have bills to pay.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. “You’re famous for not paying your bills. I have bills to pay—on your behalf.”
“What’s yours is mine,” Molly said comfortably. “Though not necessarily vice versa, if you know what’s good for you.” She looked at the Armourer. “Was Eddie mentioned in the will?”
“There was no will!” said the Armourer. “Oh, God, I can feel one of my heads coming on. . . .”
“Me too!” said Ethel.
“You don’t have a head!” said the Armourer.
“Might have,” said Ethel. “You don’t know.”
“Anyway . . .” said the Armourer. “None of that matters. The point is, a great many important, significant, and horribly powerful people and organisations believe the Inheritance does exist, and they’re prepared to go to open war over it. Either to gain it for themselves, or to make sure their enemies don’t get it. We are looking down the barrel of a war so potentially far-reaching it’s bound to spill over into the everyday world. And we can’t allow that to happen. We’re only able to operate so freely because the world doesn’t know we exist. If Humanity ever finds out who and what they really share this world with, they will go batshit mental. Fighting in the streets, blood in the gutters, churches and governments burning in the night, for having kept so much secret for so long . . . all the world’s arsenals finally unleashed: nuclear, bacterial, chemical . . . and God alone knows where it would go from there. No. We have to stop this dead, before it gets out of hand.”
“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” said Molly. “Eddie, he’s smiling. Why is the Armourer smiling?”
“Because this is the part we really aren’t going to like,” I said.
“The Summit Meeting has been called to help us decide how best to defuse this situation,” the Armourer said smoothly. “I am going, as Drood representative, and you two are going because you killed Crow Lee, and therefore have more immediate information about him than anyone else. And because it’s all your fault, remember?”
“I thought we’d get back to that,” I said.
“I gave up guilt for Lent,” said Molly. “And never took it up again. You should try it, Eddie, it’s very liberating.”
“Molly and I were there when the family investigated Crow Lee’s country house,” I said. “They tore the place apart, and didn’t find a single damned thing worth a second look.”
“Or at least, nothing important,” said Molly. “I mean, yes, there was a whole load of really weird shit, scattered all over the place, but nothing of any worth.”
“Or you’d have taken it,” I said.
“Exactly!” said Molly. “The point being, all Eddie and I know for sure about Crow Lee was that he was a complete bastard and an utter shit, and the world is better off without him. So what can we contribute to this Summit?”
“The house was empty because it had already been emptied of anything that mattered, before you got there,” said the Armourer. “Which suggests . . . that perhaps he saw his death coming, and made plans. Possibly involving a comeback. So as the last people to see Crow Lee alive, you become vitally important. You have to talk to the Summit.”
“Will the Regent be there, at this meeting?” Molly said suddenly. “Representing the Department of the Uncanny?”
“No,” said the Armourer. “Given his past, and his past reputation, and his closeness to the Establishment these days, it was felt his presence would be . . . divisive. You and Eddie can represent the Department.”
I nodded. “Yes. I can do that. Since I’ve left the family.”
“No one ever really leaves the family,” said the Armourer. “You should know that, Eddie. Anything, for the family.”
I deliberately turned my back on him, to look at Molly.
“You don’t have to do this, Molly. But, I don’t want you facing the Regent on your own. So I think you should wait this one out, in the wild woods. I could join you there, once the Summit is over.”
“No,” said Molly. “I’m going with you. Someone has to watch your back.”
We shared a smile. The Armourer smiled fondly on us. Ethel was singing Love is in the air . . .
“That’s the trouble with you and your damned family,” said Molly. “There’s always some crisis going on. Never a chance to catch your breath around here.”
“Never a dull moment,” the Armourer said brightly. “Ethel, will you please knock that off!”
There was a pause. “I do requests,” said Ethel.
“How long before everyone gets here?” I said quickly. “And we can get this Summit started?”
“Oh, the Summit isn’t being held here, at Drood Hall,” said Ethel, sounding faintly scandalised
. “No, we’re not considered neutral ground. Or even safe ground.”
“You mean there are people out there who don’t trust the Droods?” said Molly. “I am shocked, I tell you, shocked.”
“That’s all right,” said the Armourer. “We don’t trust most of them, either. Just because we’re on the same side, mostly, it doesn’t mean we aren’t all ready to stab each other in the back first chance we get. We spend more time spying on our allies than we do on the enemy. You know where you are, with the enemy. It’s the friends and partners you have to keep an eye on.”
“It’s all about survival. . . .” said Molly.
“Exactly!” said the Armourer, beaming.
“I like you better in the Armoury, Uncle Jack,” I said. “Let you loose in the world, and you get downright devious.”
“I was a field agent before you were born, boy,” said the Armourer. “Mostly I prefer to forget all that, and hide away in my Armoury. Where all I have to worry about is the lab assistants . . . but sometimes, the world just won’t leave you alone.”
“What about the Nightside?” said Molly, suddenly. “That’s been neutral ground, for all sides, for thousands of years!”
“No,” the Armourer said immediately. “Droods aren’t allowed in the Nightside. By long compact and binding agreements.”
“I never did get the full story on that,” I said. “If there are these ancient agreements, requiring us to leave the Nightside strictly alone, what do we get out of it?”
“I find it best not to ask questions like that,” said the Armourer. “The answers would only upset you.”
“So where is this neutral ground?” said Molly.
The Armourer beamed happily again. “We’re going to Mars!”
“What?” said Molly.
“What?” I said.
“Hold everything, go previous, hit rewind,” said Molly. “Mars, as in the planet Mars? You mean the Martian Tombs? My sister Louise was just there!”
“We know,” said the Armourer, scowling. “And we’re really not happy about that. If you ever find out how she got there, and how she got inside the Tombs, we’d really like to know. So we can stop her ever doing it again.”
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