"My companion can look after herself," I said to the Sarjeant.
"Damn right," said Molly.
The Sarjeant started to subvocalise the Words that would call up his armour. He should have done that the moment he recognised me, but in his pride he still saw me as a child to be chastised. But even as he started the Words, Molly hit him with a rain of rats. They fell on him out of nowhere, streams of big black rats swarming all over him, clawing and biting. He cried out in shock and pain, slapping at the rats and trying to shake them off, unable to concentrate long enough to say the Words that would have brought up his armour to protect him. He staggered back and forth, beating at the rats with his bare hands. One sank its teeth deep into his palm and hung there, kicking and wriggling as he tried in vain to shake it off. Another ripped at his ear. Blood ran down his face as they tore open his scalp.
I would have liked to stand around for a while and watch him suffer, but I didn’t have the time. So I stepped forward and punched him out. The strength behind the golden fist almost took his head off, and he crashed to the floor, barely twitching. Molly disappeared the rats with a gesture. I stood over the Sarjeant-at-Arms, looking down at him, and it felt good, so good, to have finally avenged myself for years of pain and scorn. Now he didn’t look nearly as big as I remembered him. He was still conscious, just.
"How many children did you whip for running in the hallways?" I said. "How many did you flog for being late or not being where they should be? For answering back? For daring to have minds and hopes and dreams of their own?"
The Sarjeant stirred painfully, blood running out the corner of his torn mouth as he smiled. "It’s a hard world, boy. Had to toughen you up so you could survive it. You learned your lessons well, Edwin. Proud of you, boy."
"We were just children!" I said, but he was unconscious and couldn’t hear me anymore.
"Your family do love their mind games, don’t they?" said Molly.
"Not now, " I said. "Please."
I stepped into the Sarjeant’s security alcove and opened the emergency alarms locker. It was keyed to open to anyone wearing a torc. I looked at all the switches set out before me, grinned, and then hit every single one of them. Interior alarms, exterior alarms, fire, flood, witchcraft, and Luddites. (Some of our alarms go way back.) Bells and sirens went off throughout the Hall, ringing and howling and clanging in an ungodly cacophony of noise. Lights flared and flashed, emergency doors slammed shut, steel grilles came crashing down, and members of the family ran wildly this way and that, driven mad by the whooping alarms. I always said we needed more emergency drills.
I walked confidently through the hallways and corridors with Molly at my side. People rushed by, shouting and gesturing, but none of them paid me any attention. To them I was just another Drood, anonymous in my armour. And if Molly was with me, well, then she must be just another authorised guest. In an emergency, people have time to see only what they expect to see.
I led Molly deeper into the Hall, and she oohed and aahed as she took in all the luxurious furnishings, the portraits and paintings, the statues and works of art, and all the other marvellous loot my family has acquired down the centuries. I grew up with it all, so I still mostly took it for granted, and I had to smile as Molly went ecstatic and rapturous over this rare piece or that. I actually had to drag her away from a few things she wanted to examine more closely. We had to keep moving; time was not on our side. Molly pouted rebelliously, but she understood.
"Colour me majorly impressed," she said. "I’d heard stories about this place, but…I had no idea. There are things here they haven’t even got in museums! Paintings by major artists that aren’t in any of the catalogues! So many beautiful things…and probably wasted on you, you philistine. No wonder Sebastian had such excellent taste…I’m not leaving here without stuffing a few things in a bag."
"Later," I said. "We have to get to the Armoury."
"Why?"
"Because there’s something there I need. Something I can use to bring the house down."
The Armoury should have been closed, shut down, sealed and guarded, according to the emergency protocols. I’d half expected to have to fight my way through armed guards and force the blast-proof doors open with my armoured strength. Or have Molly use her magics. But in the end the heavy doors stood wide open, entirely unguarded, which was…unheard of. I edged over to the blast-proof doors and peered cautiously through into the Armoury. It gave every indication of being deserted. I insisted on going in first, and Molly made her disapproval clear by crowding close behind, almost stepping on my heels.
The cellars were deserted, all the workstations shut down. The quiet was eerie. None of the usual fires or explosions or sudden surprised cursings. One man was waiting for us, sitting at ease in his favourite chair right in the middle of everything. He watched, smiling wryly, as Molly and I cautiously approached him. A tall middle-aged man with a bald pate and tufty white eyebrows, wearing a stained white lab coat over a T-shirt bearing the legend Guns Don’t Kill People—Unless You Aim Them Properly. The Armourer. My uncle Jack. I should have known he would stand his ground when everyone else had fled.
"Hello, Eddie," he said calmly. "I’ve been expecting you."
He held up something in his right hand. A simple clicker in the shape of a small green frog. He snapped it once, and my armour went back into my collar, just like that. I gaped at the Armourer, shocked speechless, and he laughed softly.
"Just a little toy I put together long ago and kept for myself. After all, you never know when it might come in handy…When I heard all the alarms go off at once, I knew it had to be you, Eddie. You always did have a taste for the dramatic. Why did you come back? You know it’s death for you to be here, now you’re rogue. And why have you brought one of your oldest enemies into the most confidential part of the Hall?"
"I’m not sure who the enemy really is anymore, Uncle Jack," I said.
"You know Molly Metcalf?"
"Of course I know who she is, boy. I know all the names that matter. I was an agent in the field for twenty years, and I still leaf through all the reports. How else would I know what to design for agents today? What is the infamous Molly Metcalf doing here, Eddie?"
"Why does everyone keep using that word?" said Molly. "I am not infamous!"
"She’s with me," I said.
The Armourer smiled suddenly. "Oh, it’s like that, is it? Well, it’s about time." He grinned charmingly at Molly. "Delighted to meet you, my dear. I’m afraid I only know you by reputation, and quite a fearsome reputation it is."
"I earned it," said Molly. "Though I’ve always preferred to think of myself as a fun person."
"Did you really turn the whole Berkshire Hunt into foxes for forty-eight hours?"
"Of course," said Molly. "I thought it might give them a little insight."
"Good for you, girl," said the Armourer. "Never did approve of foxhunting. Barbarous sport, mostly followed these days by inbred aristos and nouveau riche arriviste arseholes. So, Eddie…you finally brought a girlfriend home to meet the family. I was beginning to worry about you."
"She is not my…well…" I said. "We’re still working on what we are."
"Right," said Molly. "It’s…complicated."
"How do you feel about him, Molly?" said the Armourer, leaning forward.
"I’m fond of him," she said thoughtfully. "Like a big shaggy dog that no one wants, that’s come in out of the rain, and you haven’t the heart to drive out again."
The Armourer winked at me. "She’s crazy about you, kid."
"Woof woof," I said.
"Now then, lad," said the Armourer, briskly back to business. "What the hell are you doing here? And whatever possessed you to phone ahead? The Matriarch went mad. She’s been beside herself, issuing orders for you to be killed on sight. I’m committing treason against the family just for talking to you like this." He sniffed loudly. "Like that’s going to stop me. I’ve never needed someone else to tell me what’s i
n the family’s best interests. If you ask me, Mother’s not all there, these days. But even so, you can’t expect me to actually assist you in…whatever you came here for. You should never have come back, Eddie. What did you think you’d find here, for God’s sake?"
"Armourer," I said, "I came here looking for the truth. Just like you always taught me, Uncle Jack."
He sighed heavily and clicked his green frog again. "Oh, all right; there’s your armour back again. I just know I’m going to regret this…I always was too softhearted for my own good. Why did you come down here, Eddie? What do you want from me?"
"I need to discover the real reason why I was made rogue," I said slowly. "I was never a traitor to the family, Uncle Jack. You know that."
"Yes," the Armourer admitted. "I know that. Anyone else I might have believed, but not you, Eddie. You were always so honest and open about your doubts…I couldn’t believe it when they told me. Wouldn’t believe it, till they told me to shut up and do as I was told. Something’s happening in the family, Eddie, that I don’t understand. Factions, infighting, deep divisions over arguments I can’t even follow…And now different parts of the family are actually keeping secrets from each other. I’m being deliberately kept out of the loop, as well, and that’s never happened before. Mother would never have permitted it…She always used to trust my judgement. But things have changed dramatically in the years since you left, Eddie, and not for the better. Do I really need to tell you that stepping down as Armourer in favour of dear little Alexandra wasn’t my idea? Thought not."
"I need your help, Uncle Jack," I said. "I need you to trust me."
"I’m really not going to like this, am I?" He rose to his feet and clapped me on the shoulder. "You’ll probably do less damage if I help you. Look, if you want answers, you need the library. Everything’s in there, somewhere." He fished a key ring out of his pocket, and took off one small key. He handed it to me. "The library will have gone into automatic shutdown once the alarms started, but that key will open all the doors for you. Take good care of that key, Eddie; I want it back. Now get the hell out of here before someone comes in and catches me talking to you."
"Thanks for the key," I said. "But I need something else from you."
"Oh, yes; of course! Molly’s a delightful young lady, Eddie. You have my blessing."
"Not that! Well, thanks for that, but…I need something from the armoury. To be exact, I need something from the Armageddon Codex."
The Armourer stopped smiling. "You want me to give you one of the forbidden weapons?"
"Yes. I need Oath Breaker."
He looked at me for a long moment, and his gaze was very cold.
"Why in the name of the good God would you want that awful thing?"
"There’s something rotten at the heart of the family," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "You know that as well as I do. I need the one weapon no member of the family can hope to stand against. The one weapon they won’t even think of challenging. It’s the only way I can be sure of avoiding bloodshed, Uncle Jack."
"No, boy," the Armourer said flatly. "You’re asking too much."
"He has to," said Molly. "He doesn’t have time to be subtle. He was shot with an arrow made of strange matter. It’s still in his system, poisoning him."
The Armourer looked at me sharply. "Is this true, Eddie?"
I nodded stiffly. "Punched right through my armour. I thought I’d healed the wound with a med blob, but the strange matter’s still in me. And it’s spreading."
"Dear God…How long have you got, Eddie?"
"Three days," I said. "Maybe less."
"Oh, my dear boy…I heard about the arrow, but I never knew…Strange matter. Cursed stuff. I destroyed the only samples I had. Let me call up some old notes, see what I can do…There must be something I can do…"
"I don’t have the time, Uncle Jack," I said. "That’s why I have to do this quickly, and that’s why I need Oath Breaker. You have my word I won’t do anything with it that would hurt the family."
"I don’t know…" said the Armourer.
"I do," said a harsh, cold, and very familiar voice behind me. "You get nothing, traitor, except what’s coming to you."
We all looked around, and there stood Alexandra, tall and proud as ever. She was dressed all in black and carrying something awful in her hands. Molly started towards her, and I grabbed her arm and held her back. The Armourer grabbed her other arm.
"Don’t move, Molly," he said quietly. "She’s holding one of our most dangerous weapons. She’s holding Torc Cutter."
"What the hell’s that?" said Molly, but she didn’t try to fight us.
"Just what it sounds like," I said. "Hello, Alexandra. You’re looking…very yourself. What are you doing with Torc Cutter?"
"I took it out of the security locker just for you, Eddie," she said. Her voice was almost teasing, but she wasn’t smiling, and her eyes were very cold. "Time’s up, Eddie. Game over."
"Would someone please tell me why everyone’s acting so dramatic?" said Molly.
"The shears she’s holding are the only thing that can sever a Drood’s torc," the Armourer said. "It breaks the lifelong connection between a Drood and his armour. The operation is always fatal. Torc Cutter is a very ancient weapon, older than family history. It’s only ever supposed to be used as a last resort, to bring down a rogue who threatens the whole family, when all else has failed. It hasn’t been used in centuries."
"They look like gardening shears," said Molly, and she had a point. The shears were made of black iron, not steel, and looked like what they were: a simple cutting tool. Bleak and functional, but to the eyes of any Drood they were ugly with vicious significance. One of the few things absolutely guaranteed to kill a Drood. I stood very still and made sure Molly did too. Alexandra wouldn’t hesitate to use Torc Cutter. It occurred to me that I wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t already used them. I would have. Perhaps…there was just a chance that part of her wanted me to talk her out of using them. We had been close, once.
"Don’t do this, Alex," I said carefully. "You know this is all bullshit. You know I could never be a traitor. You were the one who knew me best of all, once."
"I thought I did," she said. "But then you went away, and you didn’t take me with you."
"I did ask," I said.
"You knew I couldn’t go! I had to make a new life for myself here at the Hall. A life in which I have become very powerful, Eddie. And you are most definitely a traitor, to the true spirit of the family. You’re a threat to the family’s future, Eddie. And I can’t, I won’t allow that."
She stepped forward, raising Torc Cutter, and the Armourer snapped out a single Word. The ugly black shears jumped right out of Alexandra’s hands and into the Armourer’s. She looked at him with something like shock as he stuffed the shears carelessly into his coat pocket, smiling smugly.
"I put a Safe Word into everything that passes through my lab, just in case they should fall into the wrong hands. And all the most deadly weapons have passed through the Armoury just recently, thanks to the Matriarch’s instructions. Mother always was a little paranoid, and luckily she passed a healthy dose of it on to her children." He then took a needle gun out of his other pocket and shot Alexandra in the throat. She just had time to slap a hand to her neck, and then she crumpled to the floor, out like a light. The Armourer blew imaginary smoke off the barrel of his gun, and then put it away again. "I always keep that handy for when my lab assistants get a bit overexcited. She’ll sleep for an hour or so. Put her somewhere comfortable, Eddie, while I go get the key for the Codex."
"Then you’ll help me?" I said.
"Yes. I won’t let you die with a traitor’s name hanging over you, Eddie. I can do that much for you. Besides, if Alexandra’s running around armed with Torc Cutter, God alone knows what else is out there. You’re going to need Oath Breaker."
"I promise I’ll return it safely," I said.
"Too bloody right you will," said the Armo
urer. "Don’t make me come after you, Eddie. I know some dirty tricks you never dreamed of in all your years in the field."
"I always wondered why your old files were blocked," I said.
Molly and I propped Alexandra up in a corner. She muttered querulously in her sleep, but that was all. Molly looked down at her.
"Would she really have killed you with that thing?"
"Probably," I said.
"Want me to kick her while she’s down?"
"No. I don’t do that."
"Wimp." She looked at me consideringly. "So, this Alexandra was once an old flame of yours?"
"A long time ago," I said. "When we were both a lot younger. She wasn’t always like this, you know. You’re not jealous, are you?"
"Me? No! Why would I be jealous? I’ve had lots of boyfriends in my time. Dozens!"
"They probably didn’t appreciate you like I do," I said.
The family keeps the Armageddon Codex in a pocket dimension for extra security. Only the Armourer and his designated successor can even approach it, let alone access it. The Codex contains the family’s most powerful weapons, too dangerous to be used unless reality itself is under threat. Normally you have to fill out reams of paperwork before you’re even allowed to approach the Matriarch with a request. The Armourer was trusting me a lot, to let me take Oath Breaker. He wouldn’t do that, for all his sympathy, unless he was already convinced that there was something seriously wrong with the family.
To get to the Armageddon Codex, you have to pass through the Lion’s Jaws. At the very back of what used to be the old wine cellars, before they were converted into the present armoury, there is a giant stone carving of a lion’s head, complete with mane. Perfect in every detail, twenty feet tall and almost as wide, carved out of the dark blue-veined stone that makes up the cellar’s furthest reaches. The lion’s eyes seem to glare, the mouth seems to snarl, and the whole thing looks like life itself frozen in stone. As though just waiting to pounce, if it could only force the rest of its body through the stone wall that held it. Not all that surprisingly, Molly fell in love with it at first sight and stood right before the stone face, running her hands over the detailed carving and cooing delightedly.
The Man with the Golden Torc sh-1 Page 34
