Moonbreaker

by Simon R. Green

  A chair appeared out of nowhere behind the Librarian, and he sat down next to Molly. I was impressed; I hadn’t known he could do that. His chair looked a lot more comfortable than mine, and I considered asking him for an upgrade, but his scowl suggested this might not be a good time.

  I looked thoughtfully at the Librarian. His bushy white hair had recently known the attention of a brush, if not a comb; his body language suggested barely suppressed rage; and his gaze was more than usually clear. I was even more impressed. It wasn’t often William felt together enough to stand up to anyone, let alone the Matriarch.

  “You might have kept me out of the fighting,” the Librarian said flatly to the Matriarch, explaining much, “but you are not keeping me out of the decision-making process.”

  “Of course not,” said the Matriarch. “We value your input, Librarian. You’re looking very . . . sharp.”

  He scowled. “My mind isn’t what it was. I know that. But don’t go thinking I’m senile!”

  “No one ever said you were,” said the Matriarch.

  Not out loud, I thought.

  “Will Ammonia be joining us for these discussions?” said Molly. “In telepathic spirit, at least?”

  The Librarian’s scowl deepened. “No. I did ask, but she’s working a case and can’t get away. She sent everyone her best.”

  Knowing Ammonia, I somehow doubted that. Molly patted William comfortingly on the arm, and he smiled briefly at her before fixing the Matriarch with a stern look and the air of someone determined not to be messed with.

  “Now the advisory Council is assembled,” the Matriarch said calmly, “we need to talk about Edmund. I’m still finding it hard to believe one man on his own was able to overthrow this family’s defences so easily and so quickly, and do us so much damage in such a short time. Are we sure he didn’t have help?”

  “He doesn’t need help,” said Molly.

  “He’s me,” I said. “Only without my scruples.”

  “You have scruples?” said the Sarjeant. “When did that happen?”

  Molly gave him her best thoughtful glare. “Don’t push your luck, Cedric.”

  “Make your report, Sarjeant,” said the Matriarch.

  “My people are checking the Hall from top to bottom,” said the Sarjeant. “To see what else Edmund might have taken, sabotaged, or destroyed while he had the place to himself. Nothing’s been found, but I’m awaiting further reports. The Infirmary is swamped with Drood wounded. We took a real kicking out there today. But the medical staff assure me they’re on top of it.”

  “How many did we lose?” I said.

  “Twenty-three dead,” said the Sarjeant. “An acceptably low figure, I think, given the circumstances.”

  “More deaths to lay at Edmund’s door,” I said.

  The Sarjeant looked to the Matriarch, and she nodded for him to continue with his report.

  “The bodies of the Angelic Droods are being autopsied,” he said flatly. “To see if anything can be learned from their altered physiology.”

  “A thought has just occurred to me,” said Molly.

  “Oh, that is never good,” said the Sarjeant.

  Molly glared at him, and then at the Matriarch. “Both the Demon Droods and the Angelic Droods were the result of alchemical shotgun marriages, part of the original pacts and agreements made between the Droods and the Hereafter. If these marriages are now at an end, is that going to affect the Droods’ standing with Heaven and Hell?”

  We all looked at one another. It rapidly became clear none of us had an answer. The Matriarch looked to the Librarian, who stirred uneasily in his comfortable chair.

  “I’ll have to do some research. No one’s had to worry about that in fifteen hundred years. Do you suppose we should inform the relevant parties?”

  “I think we can assume they already know,” I said. “If there are any complications or recriminations, I’m sure we’ll be hearing from them soon.”

  “Well, that’s something to look forward to,” said the Matriarch, trying for a light touch and missing by a mile.

  “What if they demand replacements?” said Molly.

  “Then this time, we’ll have to work out a much better deal,” said the Matriarch. “Proceed, Sarjeant.”

  “I’ve talked to some of the medical staff still running a general scan on the whole family,” said the Sarjeant. “Because we need to be sure Edmund hasn’t got to anyone else. I can confirm that so far no one in the family shows any signs of poison, or has presented any symptoms similar to Eddie’s.”

  The Matriarch looked at the golden sheath covering my arm. And the moment she looked, so did everyone else. I hadn’t been trying to hide it or draw attention to it. But once the Matriarch was officially looking at it, the others couldn’t look away. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

  “How are you, Eddie?” said the Matriarch.

  “Not good,” I said. “But good enough. Old news—move on.”

  Molly glowered at the Council. “Isn’t there anything any of you can do to help him?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. The Matriarch, the Sarjeant, and the Librarian finally all turned to the Armourer, who sat up straight in their chairs.

  “We haven’t given up,” said Maxwell.

  “We’re still working on the problem,” said Victoria.

  “Looking at past cases, studying old technologies and techniques as well as new ones, in case something might have been overlooked or forgotten,” said Maxwell.

  “We’ve sent out messages to all sorts of friends and fellow travellers,” said Victoria. “Carefully worded, of course. If anyone has anything to offer, we will hear about it.”

  “The lab assistants have adopted you as their latest project, Eddie,” said Maxwell. “They’re all very excited, and they’ve come up with all kinds of ingenious ideas.”

  “Nothing particularly practical as yet,” Victoria said reluctantly. “But still, early days!”

  “You are our top priority, Eddie,” said Maxwell. “You must believe that.”

  “We will find an answer.”

  “We always do.”

  “You couldn’t save my uncle Jack,” I said.

  There was a silence. I knew it was an unfair comparison, even as I said it. Jack had been very old, and after all the things he’d done to himself to keep him going . . . If it had been possible to save him, he would have done it himself. But I wasn’t in the mood to be fair. The world had not been fair to me. The closest I could manage to an apology was to change the subject.

  “I thought you and your assistants fought very bravely,” I said to the Armourer. “Taking on the Angelic Droods.”

  “It’s not what we do best,” said Maxwell. “But we can fight.”

  “Of course we can,” said Victoria. “We are Droods, after all.”

  “How many assistants did you lose?” I said.

  “Four,” said Maxwell. “And a dozen wounded. Not bad, considering. They are very hard to kill.”

  “That’s what comes from working in the Armoury,” said Victoria. “If you can survive that on a daily basis, you can survive pretty much anything.”

  The Sarjeant leaned forward to fix me with a cold stare. “You said Edmund escaped from the Old Library. How was he able to do that?”

  “He used the Merlin Glass,” I said.

  There was an immediate reaction to that, and not a good one. The Matriarch and the Council all sat up straight, looked at each other and then at me. I stared calmly back at them. I’d known this was coming.

  “You mean, the Merlin Glass isn’t under your control any longer?” said the Matriarch.

  “Turns out, it never really was,” I said. “Edmund has been haunting it for ages. Using it against me and the family.”

  “How is that po
ssible?” said the Sarjeant.

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “Lot of that going around these days,” said the Librarian.

  The Matriarch shot him an exasperated look, but he was used to that. She turned her cold gaze on me.

  “So,” she said, “that’s why Edmund was able to come and go so easily inside the Hall. He had control of the Merlin Glass.”

  “Some of the time,” I said.

  “I told you, Eddie,” said the Sarjeant. “You should have handed the Glass over to the family for safekeeping. Why don’t you listen to me?”

  “Because I nearly always know more about what’s really going on than you do,” I said. “Giving up the Glass wouldn’t have helped. Edmund had put a back door in the Glass, so he could hide in it or use it to come and go as and when he pleased. So don’t try to pin the blame on me, Sarjeant! How long was Edmund walking around the Hall, pretending to be me, because you didn’t follow up on the suspicions your own people brought to you? Because you couldn’t believe anyone could get past your precious security?”

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms didn’t look guilty, because he didn’t do that. But he did turn his attention to Molly.

  “Have you been able to contact your sisters? I understand they’re very good at finding people who don’t want to be found.”

  Molly pulled a face, and shrugged apologetically to me. “According to Isabella’s answering service, she and Louisa are out. As in, no longer in our reality. No information on where they’ve gone or what they’re doing, or even a hint as to when they’ll be back. I’ve left a message, but . . . I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  “Only be sorry for the things that are your fault,” I said. “There isn’t time for anything else.”

  “Don’t you have any old friends you could call on, Eddie?” said the Librarian. “I mean, you have worked with some very powerful and well-connected people in your time. There must be someone . . .”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I said. “I’ve left some messages, but the kind of people we’re talking about aren’t easy to get hold of. It doesn’t matter. Edmund told me the poison he used came from his world. There isn’t going to be any cure, any antidote, because no one in this world has ever seen anything like it. We need to concentrate on what’s in front of us. Edmund drove us out of the Hall so he could be sure of uninterrupted access to the Old Library, but he only took one book with him when he left. Which suggests there must be something in that particular book he thought he could use.”

  “And to find one book in a Library that size, he must have spent some time searching for it,” said Molly. “Without the Librarian, Yorith, or even the Pook noticing. How is that even possible?”

  “I might have seen him and not known,” said the Librarian, looking down at his hands clasped together in his lap. “I’ve talked with Eddie any number of times, but now I have to wonder if he was always who I thought he was.”

  “Which book did Edmund take?” said the Matriarch. “Do you have any idea?”

  “Oh, identifying the book was easy,” said the Librarian. “Its removal left a very significant gap. How Edmund got past all its protections and defences . . .”

  “Which book was it?” said the Sarjeant.

  “The History of Grendel Rex, the Unforgiven God.”

  The Matriarch and the Sarjeant looked at each other. They looked like they’d been hit, and hit hard. Maxwell and Victoria looked like frightened children who’d just heard a noise in the night. The Librarian looked at his hands in his lap, and said nothing. Molly looked at me.

  “Grendel Rex,” she said. “You told me you talked with him in Siberia. During the Great Spy Game. But you never told me what you talked about.”

  “Nothing to tell,” I said.

  “I’ve heard stories about Grendel Rex,” said Molly. “A word dropped here and there in subterranean places, by people scared to be overheard. I never met anyone who knew anything for sure until I met you, Eddie.”

  “It’s not something we talk about,” said the Matriarch. “It’s not something anyone should talk about.”

  “I need to know!” said Molly.

  “Gerard Drood came to power in the Eleventh Century,” I said. “He found a way to improve and strengthen his torc, away from the Heart, and then used that power to take personal control of every mind in the family. He made every one of them think like him, become him. Or, at least, all the Droods he knew about. There were very-secret agents even then; a family inside the family. They kept their heads down and did their best not to be noticed, until they could figure out what to do.”

  “Why weren’t they affected?” said Molly. “How were they able to avoid being mind controlled?”

  “That’s not in the official history,” said the Librarian. “But, then, agents of that kind always liked to keep things to themselves.”

  I remembered Peter and his secrets. The Matriarch gestured for me to continue.

  “Gerard Drood expanded his control to the rest of Humanity,” I said steadily. “Whole countries fell under his sway, entire populations bowing their heads to his overwhelming will. In time, they would all have become him. And he would have been Grendel Rex, the Drood who ate the world. A living god, or a living devil.”

  Molly looked around. No one else wanted to say anything.

  “But you beat him,” she said. “The Droods defeated him.”

  “The very-secret agents took him down,” I said. “Using methods the family still doesn’t want to talk about.”

  “Not because we are ashamed,” the Matriarch said evenly, “but because we needed to keep them secret. In case we ever have to use them again.”

  “And this book Edmund has now,” said Molly. “Would it have information on how to control Grendel Rex?”

  “We should have destroyed it long ago!” said the Sarjeant. “To ensure nothing like this could ever happen!”

  “No,” said the Matriarch. “We couldn’t do that. There was always the possibility that in some future extreme emergency, we might need Grendel Rex. To fight for us, against something worse.”

  Molly looked at me. “Your family . . .”

  “Trust me,” I said. “I know.”

  “But why are you all looking so worried?” said Molly. “Grendel Rex is safely imprisoned, isn’t he?”

  “Buried deep below the permafrost, under the Siberian steppes,” I said. “Because back in the Eleventh Century, Siberia must have seemed like the end of the earth. They buried him deep and left him there, wrapped in powerful chains and potent curses. To wait till Judgement Day, or beyond.”

  “They buried him alive?” said Molly.

  “They couldn’t destroy him,” I said. “Not after everything he’d done to himself. What he’d made himself into.”

  “Gerard Drood,” said the Sarjeant. “Once our greatest hero, he became our greatest shame. The Drood who wanted to remake all of Humanity in his own image, and rule them forever.”

  “So, what sort of a man was he?” said Molly. “Before he became the Unforgiven God?”

  We all looked at one another.

  “All we know for sure,” I said, “comes from the book Edmund took with him. And that was mostly concerned with what Gerard did and what he intended to do, and what it cost us to take him down. The authors weren’t really interested in presenting us with a character sketch.”

  “Just a warning from history,” said the Librarian.

  “How is it you know so much about what’s in this book?” the Matriarch said suddenly.

  “I was interested,” I said. “Because I’d met him.”

  “Edmund must believe the book can tell him how to release and control Grendel Rex,” said Molly. “So he can use this living god as a weapon. Are there any other books in the Old Library that might cover the same ground? Give us some idea of what Edmund
is planning to do?”

  “There are no other books on Grendel Rex,” said the Librarian. “One was bad enough.”

  “And access to it was strictly limited,” said the Matriarch, looking at me.

  “We didn’t want anyone being tempted,” said the Sarjeant. “Grendel Rex had followers, then and later. Fools who thought they could make use of him.”

  “Or worshipped him,” said the Matriarch.

  “We could look in the family Diaries,” I said. “There must be some from that period. See if any of them had anything to say about Gerard the man.”

  “That’s an excellent idea, Eddie!” said the Matriarch. “Sarjeant, put some people on it.”

  The Sarjeant nodded, and his gaze became distant as he reached out to his people through his torc.

  “They’d better touch base with me,” said the Librarian. “And the family historians. Diaries back then would have been written in Saxon and Norman, Latin and Greek . . . We’re going to have to put a lot of people on this.”

  “You’ll have all the support you need,” said the Matriarch.

  “Can I just ask: Did Grendel Rex really carve his features into the surface of the Moon?” said Molly. “So he could look down on the earth forever, as the Drood in the Moon?”

  “The family scrubbed it clean,” I said. “After they’d put him down.”

  “Really?” said Molly. “Your family’s been to the Moon?”

  “We get around,” I said.

  “The really hard part was keeping it out of the world’s history books,” said the Librarian. “Fortunately, there was a lot happening around then.”

  “I’ve read your official report on what happened in Siberia, Eddie,” said the Matriarch. “It was very lacking in details, and far from satisfactory on many levels. Particularly concerning your contact with Grendel Rex. You were the first Drood in centuries to actually talk to him. What did he say?”

  I remembered being under attack in an abandoned Secret Science City. Being threatened by appallingly powerful forces, far beyond anything I or my companions could hope to fight. With not just our lives but our very souls at risk, I reached out mentally to the only person I thought might save us. The sleeping giant under the earth. The Unforgiven God. I remembered pushing my mind out through the torc and sending my thoughts down into the earth. Like a diver descending into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. A giant eye opened in the dark and looked right at me. I remembered talking to the old god, the old devil, and being surprised at how human he sounded. He saved my life, and all of those with me, and asked for nothing in return. But I also remembered his final words.