Property of a Lady Faire

CHAPTER FOUR

“All right,” said Molly, in her I am being very patient here but you’d better believe I am going to take a lot of convincing voice, “how are we going to get back into Drood Hall without being noticed? How are we going to sneak into the best-protected and -defended location possibly in the entire world? I mean, yes, we did do it once, all those years ago, but we had all kinds of help then that we don’t have now. And your family are bound to have filled in all those loopholes anyway.”

“No problem,” I said cheerfully, and perhaps a little more confidently than I actually felt. “After all the trouble we had breaking in last time, I decided to make life easier for myself in the future. So I could come and go as I pleased without having to bother anyone.”

“And because you don’t trust your family,” said Molly.

“Exactly!” I said. “So I had the Merlin Glass set up an emergency back door. A very subtle hidden entrance, built around the Glass itself, completely undetectable by any of the Hall’s shields and protections. Just in case I ever felt the need to come visiting without an invitation. The Door doesn’t exist until the Glass decides it does, and then we step through into any part of the Hall, without anyone knowing. Theoretically.”

“What?” said Molly.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve never actually needed to try it until now.”

“I like it!” Molly said approvingly. “Very sneaky. And you never told me about this before because . . . ?”

“Because I never needed to try it before,” I said.

“Also very sneaky,” said Molly. “Well done. Hanging around with me has clearly widened your moral horizons. But . . . why do we have to go visit this person in Cell 13? Why can’t we just drop straight into the Old Library? There’s bound to be something in there about the Lazarus Stone.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “Nothing happens in the Old Library that William doesn’t know about. He’s a lot sharper these days. The Voice said no help from my family. We have to assume that whoever’s behind the Voice is still watching.”

“But isn’t the Drood in Cell 13 . . .”

“Technically, no. Because he isn’t a member of the family any longer. The Voice shouldn’t be able to observe us once we’re safely inside the Hall’s many shields and protections, but I don’t feel like taking the chance. It’s bad enough we’re going to the Hall at all; I’m not prepared to put my parents’ lives at risk by talking to anyone we don’t have to.”

“I could always ask my sisters for help,” said Molly. “They’re not Droods.”

“You’ve got a point there,” I said. “There are all kinds of really powerful people who you or I could go to for help. Why did the Voice specifically rule out just my family?”

“Because the Voice has a specific reason to be scared of Droods?” said Molly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “A lot of people have good reason to be scared of my family. Though that would seem to imply that . . . whoever the Voice is, he knows my family. And they know him. Interesting . . . Doesn’t get us anywhere, but it is interesting . . .”

“I could have Isabella and Louisa here in minutes,” said Molly.

“No,” I said. “I think we need to do this ourselves. The more people we bring in, the more complicated the situation becomes. Who knows what other people might do, to get their hands on the Lazarus Stone? It must be pretty damned powerful, or valuable, if the Voice was prepared to wipe out the whole Department of Uncanny, just on the chance they might have it. No, we do this on our own, Molly. Because we know we can trust each other.”

“All right, then,” said Molly. “Let’s get this show on the road. Where are we going, exactly?”

“To the one part of Drood Hall where no one ever goes,” I said. “If they’ve got any sense.”

I took out the Merlin Glass, held the hand mirror close to my lips, and murmured the special set of spatial coordinates I’d programmed into it. Keeping my voice down, not because I didn’t trust Molly but because I wasn’t sure whether the Voice might still be listening. The Merlin Glass jumped out of my hand and hung on the air before me. It spun round rapidly several times, and then grew quickly in size to form a Door. I couldn’t keep from smiling. My uncle Jack isn’t the only one who can do marvellous things with useful items. I may not be the engineering genius he is, but I have always paid careful attention when he speaks. Even if he doesn’t always think so. Where the reflection in the Glass should have been, I could now see a dark and gloomy stone corridor. Molly squeezed in close beside me, and studied the opening dubiously.

“Is that it? I thought there’d be more . . . special effects, or something.”

“It’s a Door,” I said. “And the essence here, as you have already pointed out, is sneakiness.”

“But is that really it? The way to Cell 13?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never been there before. Now follow me, stick close, and keep your voice down.”

“Oh please,” said Molly. “Like I’ve never burgled anywhere before.”

I stopped to take one last look round the Regent’s office, and at the Regent himself, still sitting in his chair, behind his desk.

“Good-bye, Grandfather,” I said. “I wish I could have . . .” And then I stopped, because there were so many things I wished we could have. “If you’re still listening, Voice,” I said, “I will do whatever it takes to save my parents. And then I will hunt you down. Even if I have to go to the ends of the Earth and beyond.”

I waited, but there was no response. So I just nodded to Molly, and we stepped through the Merlin Glass and into the depths of Drood Hall.

• • •

A long stone corridor fell away before us, just dull grey walls and a floor of bare flag-stones. Sparse illumination came from a line of naked light bulbs, hanging far apart so that there were long stretches of dark shadow between the pools of light. The air was cold, and still, and dusty. Not a place where people came unless they absolutely had to. Unless they were driven to it. The slightest sound seemed to echo on and on, hanging on the air. Drood Hall doesn’t have dungeons; we have something worse.

I turned back to retrieve the Merlin Glass, but the Door hung back, avoiding my reaching hand. Instead it turned edge on in the narrow space, so that for a moment it seemed to disappear, and then it floated smoothly down the corridor ahead of us, like a guide or a guard in dangerous territory. It stopped when it realised I wasn’t immediately following, and hovered on the air. There was a sense of impatience to it, as though it knew best what was needed here. I studied the Merlin Glass thoughtfully.

“It’s never done this before, has it?” Molly said quietly. She was standing right beside me, her mouth brushing my ear.

“No,” I said. “It hasn’t. But that’s the Merlin Glass for you, always full of surprises.”

I did my best to keep my voice casual and unconcerned. This was the very worst moment the Glass could have chosen to develop a personality, and I didn’t want Molly getting distracted from the business at hand.

“Is this why you didn’t want to give the Glass back to your family?” said Molly. “So you could come and go from Drood Hall as you pleased?”

“No,” I said, seizing gratefully on the change in subject. “That’s not it. I don’t actually know why I feel it’s so important the Glass remains in my possession. I just have this feeling . . . that I’m going to need it.”

Molly nodded. To a witch, premonitions are just warnings from the future, and always to be taken seriously. I didn’t mention my inner conviction that the Glass wanted to stay with me. I didn’t want to worry her. Molly looked up and down the long stone corridor. It stretched away into darkness in both directions, for as far as the eye could follow and then some. Molly didn’t actually turn up her nose, but she looked like she wanted to.

“This is pretty basic, even for Drood Hall,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything as . . . brutal as this, in the Hall before.”

“Not many have,” I said. “Most of my family prefer to believe that the Drood in Cell 13 doesn’t exist. And for most of them, he doesn’t. He’s our equivalent of an urban legend, a cautionary tale. It’s safer that way. You need special permission to approach him, along with very definite instructions on what you can and can’t ask him. And that’s for the visitor’s protection. Just talking to the Drood in Cell 13 has been known to drive people crazy.”

“Your family never ceases to intrigue and appal me,” said Molly. “I thought my sisters were scary . . .”

“They are,” I said.

Molly punched me in the arm.

“Ow,” I said obligingly.

Molly looked dubiously down the corridor.

“Just how dangerous is this Drood in Cell 13?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “He’s not imprisoned here as a punishment, but because he’s a danger to the whole family.”

“So he is a prisoner?”

“Yes. But he asked to be locked away. He knew how dangerous he is.”

“Is he crazy?”

“Hard to say . . .”

“What’s his name?”

“Laurence Drood,” I said. “Once the family Armourer. There was an accident, some two hundred years ago, or so. The details of the story are either lost, or blatantly contradictory. Either way, as a result of . . . whatever happened, Laurence now knows everything the family knows. Or has ever known. Including all the very secret things most of the family aren’t even supposed to suspect. And unfortunately, it’s a never-ending process. Every time the family learns something, Laurence knows.”

“How is that even possible?” said Molly.

“We’re the Droods,” I said. “We all do ten impossible things before breakfast, just to get our hearts started. Don’t hit me! Look, Molly . . . I don’t think anyone in my family knows anything for sure where the Drood in Cell 13 is concerned, not after all this time. He knows, of course. But apparently he only tells people what he feels like telling. There are . . . stories, among the higher levels of the family. About people who managed to make their way down here, to ask the Drood in Cell 13 questions. About things they weren’t supposed to know. It seems . . . he uses the things he tells to destroy people.”

“Why would he do that?” said Molly.

“Because he can,” I said. “Because he thinks it’s funny . . . The point is, whatever information comes into Drood Hall, Laurence just soaks it up and stores it away in his amazing altered mind. It’s impossible to hide anything from him. All of which makes him the perfect weapon to use against the Droods. That’s why he asked to be locked away, from the world and the family, and that’s why they went along. Put him down here, in the depths, out of sight and out of mind. It was either that or kill him, and who knows when he might prove useful? Or even necessary. It’s always possible that some small piece of information, forgotten by everyone else, might prove essential to the safety and security of the family. Droods never throw away anything that might prove useful someday.”

“Hang on,” said Molly. “Laurence Drood is over two hundred years old?”

“Well over,” I said. “And he’s spent nearly all of it locked away, down here, in solitary confinement. So if he wasn’t crazy when they locked him in . . .”

“Your family,” said Molly, shaking her head.

“Trust me,” I said. “I know.”

I started forward, into the gloom of the long corridor, and the Merlin Glass retreated smoothly before me, hovering in mid-air. It wasn’t just a Door any longer; its opening now showed me all the hidden secrets of the corridor ahead. What was really there. All the carefully concealed booby-traps and hidden protections. I wouldn’t have seen any of them without using my armoured mask, and I didn’t dare armour up down here. No wonder the Glass insisted on preceding me. But how did it know . . . ?

The Glass progressed down the corridor, quietly defusing booby-traps and shutting down protections. Molly leaned in close again.

“How is it doing that?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” I said. “It’s never done this before. I certainly never programmed it to do anything like this.”

“Maybe the Armourer . . .”

“My uncle Jack would never make anything that might prove more powerful than the family’s defences,” I said.

“When we’re finished with this,” said Molly, “you need to let me take that thing apart. See what’s going on inside the Glass.”

“Oh no you don’t,” I said, very firmly. “Merlin Satanspawn made that Glass. You really think he didn’t set some nasty surprises in place for anyone dumb enough to try to tamper with his work? You want to test your magics against possibly the greatest sorcerer of all time?”

“Well, if you’re going to put it like that . . .”

“I am putting it like that.”

Molly sniffed loudly. “Why isn’t the Glass shutting everything down, instead of just messing about, defusing and bypassing them one at a time?”

“Because,” I said patiently, “shutting down all the protections at once would set off all kinds of alarms. That’s why I haven’t armoured up. And why you mustn’t use your magical shields. If my family even suspected someone was trying to talk to the Drood in Cell 13, they’d start fumigating this corridor with flame-throwers and explosives, and then escalate.”

“I could cope with that,” said Molly. “I can take anything your family can come up with.”

“Really?” I said. “Generations of Drood Armourers have put a lot of thought into keeping Laurence Drood safe, and isolated. Would you go up against my uncle Jack’s ingenuity?”

“Well, if you’re going to put it like that . . .”

The Merlin Glass stopped abruptly, so we did too. Through the opening I could see an overlay on reality, a clear vision on top of what I was supposed to see. Trap-doors had been cunningly set among the floor’s flag-stones, over terrifyingly long drops. Robot gun emplacements lay in wait behind apparently innocent stone walls. Shaped curses and floating hexes had been salted like mines the whole length of the corridor, floating unseen on the still air. And right ahead of us, two dimensional doors flickered in and out of reality, too quickly for the human mind to process. The Merlin Glass slowed the flickering right down, so I could see what lay behind the doors. I heard Molly gasp quietly beside me, and she clutched at my arm.

“Are those . . .”

“Yes,” I said. “Drood scarecrows.”

As one of my family’s more infamous lines of defence, we keep scarecrows scattered across the grounds to deal with the more persistent and dangerous intruders. Savagely, and brutally. We make our scarecrows out of the dead bodies of our most hated enemies. Just because we can. I edged closer, to get a better look at them. Their faces were taut as parchment, with tufts of straw protruding from ears and mouths, but their eyes were still alive, and aware. Eternally suffering, endlessly hating, bound by unbreakable pacts to defend Drood Hall against all enemies. For as long as they lasted. If you listen in on the right supernatural frequencies, you can hear them screaming.

“Do you know them?” Molly said quietly. “Do you recognise either of them?”

“The clothes are unfamiliar,” I said carefully. “I only know our most recent enemies, and there’s no telling how long those two have been down here.”

We both jumped despite ourselves, as the scarecrows stirred slowly, becoming aware that someone could see them. And then they fell still again, and the dimensional doors disappeared as the Merlin Glass put all the defences to sleep, one at a time. Until the corridor seen through the opening looked exactly like the one I could see with my own eyes.

“Did you know those . . . things were down here?” said Molly.

“No,” I said. “I’m not sure anyone does, any more. Even the highest parts of my family prefer not to know what goes on down here.”

“Is it safe for us to move on?”

“Only one way to find out . . .”

I moved slowly forward, Molly still clinging to my arm, and the Merlin Glass retreated steadily ahead of us. None of the booby-traps activated, and we walked right through the floating mines, unaffected. I was so tense from anticipation that all my muscles ached fiercely. The corridor stretched away ahead of us, as we moved from light into shadow and out again.

“Your family really doesn’t want anyone talking to this guy,” said Molly after a while. “Are there any human guards down here? Anywhere?”

“No,” I said. “Never have been. Apparently just continued proximity to Laurence Drood can be enough to mess with people’s minds.”

Molly glared at me. “Liking this plan of yours less and less all the time, Eddie.”

“We should be safe enough,” I said, trying hard to sound calm and reassuring. “As long as we don’t stick around too long.”

“How long is too long?”

“Good question. How the hell should I know? I never thought I’d ever have to talk to the man.”

“Isn’t there anyone else we could talk to?” said Molly.

“I’m doing this for my parents,” I said steadily. “Wouldn’t you have done something like this for your parents?”

“My parents are dead,” said Molly.

We walked on in silence, for a while, following the Merlin Glass. Either there weren’t any more protections or hidden surprises left, or the Glass just wasn’t bothering to show them any more.

“Eddie,” said Molly, after a while, “if Laurence is the Drood in Cell 13, what about the other twelve cells? Are there other secret prisoners down here? Somewhere?”

“Not as far as I know,” I said. “I think it’s more like it took twelve attempts to produce a cell strong enough to hold Laurence Drood.”

“I thought you said he asked to be locked away?”

“He’s been down here a very long time,” I said. “And as I understand it, he has been known to change his mind, on occasion.”

“Terrific,” said Molly. “What makes you think he’s going to be in any mood to help us? Or even answer your questions?”

“Because there’s one thing all the stories agree on,” I said. “Laurence Drood just lives for the chance to tell people things that will seriously mess with their head.”

“Terrific,” said Molly. “You can do all the talking.”

• • •

We came at last to what looked like a perfectly ordinary wooden door, set flush into a bare stone wall. A simple wooden slab, with no door handle, no bell or knocker, not even any obvious hinges. The Merlin Glass came to a sudden halt, on the far side of the door. Molly and I stood side by side and studied the wooden door carefully, from what we hoped was a safe distance.

“That’s it?” said Molly. “This is the infamous Cell 13? Doesn’t look very secure.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I said. “In fact, that’s probably my family’s unofficial motto.”

“You have an official motto?”

“Of course: Don’t fuck with the Droods.”

“I thought it was Anything, for the family.”

“Same thing. It’s us versus the world, and the world had better beware.”

“I can believe that.” Molly scowled at the door. “How are we supposed to get in?”

“We can’t,” I said. “No one can. That’s the point. No one gets in, no one gets out. Food and drink are teleported in. Uncle Jack told me how to gain access to the Drood in Cell 13, back when I was briefly running things around here. Just in case I needed to know something only Laurence Drood knows.”

I armoured up my left hand, and then stopped and tensed, expecting all kinds of alarms to go crazy. But this close to Cell 13, different protocols took precedence. I placed my golden palm flat against the door, and said my name aloud. The wood of the door seemed to shudder under my touch, and then the whole door just faded away, replaced by a series of criss-crossing steel bars. Molly and I moved closer, together, to peer into the room beyond.

It seemed comfortable enough, for a cell in the depths of Drood Hall. Just a simple stone-walled room, with no window and only the most basic furniture. A man was lying on his back on the narrow single bed, wearing just a grubby white shirt and faded blue jeans. He ignored us, staring up at the ceiling. I said my name again, and he jumped up off the bed and stood quivering in the middle of the room. A small, slight man, who could have been any age at all, with a shock of white hair and wild, staring eyes. He looked at me, and then at Molly, his head cocked to one side like a bird.

And then he ran round and round the small room, his arms pumping at his sides, vaulting over the furniture and bouncing off the walls, building up speed. He went skittering up one of the walls like some terrible huge insect, dropped back down again, and ran round and round in tight circles, his arms flailing wildly. And then he launched himself at the steel-barred doorway, only stopping himself at the very last moment, to stare through the bars at Molly and me.

He wasn’t even breathing hard.

His eyes were large and luminous, and didn’t blink often enough. Up close, it was clear he was inhumanly thin, his shirt and jeans flapping loosely about him. The bones of his face pressed out against the taut skin. His smile was so wide it looked actually painful, revealing teeth like yellow-brown chisels. He all but vibrated with barely suppressed nervous energy. And above all, he had a strange, unnerving presence, as though there were more than one man standing before us.

When he finally spoke, the words seemed to just tumble all over each other in their eagerness to get out.

“Well well well, what have we here? Visitors! Oh yes . . . Don’t often get visitors, down here. Not allowed, oh no, very very rarely allowed. Because I upset people. Well! If they don’t want to know the answers they shouldn’t ask the questions. Should they? Don’t bother answering, it’s a rhetorical question. Still, I’m going to have to be on my very best behaviour with you two, aren’t I? Hmmm? For Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf? No nasty little head games, for the infamous wild witch and the most respected Drood of all. I shall tell you everything you want to know.”

“Everything?” said Molly bluntly. “No lies, no evasions, no misleading half-truths?”

He grinned at her easily. “I do have a bit of a reputation, don’t I? But you mustn’t worry, you dear little thing you, you sisterly witch. I never lie. Not when a truth can do so much more damage.”

“My Eddie needs your help,” said Molly. “You mess with him, and I swear I will find a way to get to you.”

“Nothing but the unvarnished and entirely unembellished truth for you!” said the Drood in Cell 13. “All for you! I love visitors . . . They always want to know things, but they’re never happy when I tell them. I think it’s because the world isn’t what they think it is, and no one ever likes being told that.”

He broke off, and fixed me with his burning gaze. “Do you know who and what I really am, Eddie Drood? The result of an accident, is that what they’re still saying? Oh no no no . . . the real and secret truth, the sad sad reality is . . . that I did this to myself. I am the author of my own tragedy. The idea was for the family to have its own Living Library, just in case they lost the real thing. Like they did with the Old Library. I was family Armourer back then, all those years ago, and I worked with the Heart to find a way to download all the contents of the family Library into a single human mind. A living repository for all Drood knowledge. Except that the human mind was never meant to contain so much information . . .

“There were six volunteers, including me. I used to remember their names but now I choose not to . . . Anyway, the result of the experiment was three dead, two insane and later dead, and me. Poor poor Laurence . . . Of course, I’m not the only one of my kind, these days. Once word got out that the idea was possible, was in fact doable, all kinds of other organisations had to try. With . . . differing results. You met one, Eddie! Remember the Karma Catechist? You bumped into him in Saint Baphomet’s Hospital, in Harley Street! He knew all there was to know about magical systems, rituals, and forms of power. And much good it did him. He killed himself, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “I was there when he did it.”

Molly looked at me sharply. “I didn’t know that. You never told me about that.”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.

“But . . .”

“Hush,” I said. “He’s just trying to distract us, and turn us against each other.”

Laurence laughed breathily. “Stick to what you’re best at, that’s what I always say.”

“Do you really know everything?” I said.

“Well, not everything, no. I didn’t know you were coming. I don’t know why you’re here, Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf . . . and I don’t know what you want with me. Go on. Surprise me, I dare you.”

“What do you know about the Lazarus Stone?” I said.

Laurence stepped back from the bars, folded his arms tightly across his sunken chest, and looked at me curiously. “Well well well . . . It’s been ever such a long time since anyone mentioned that name to me. The Lazarus Stone . . . possibly the single most dangerous individual item in the whole damned world. Yes . . . It’s usually thought to be a small piece of the great stone that was rolled away from Lazarus’ tomb, so Jesus could raise him from the dead. People think the Lazarus Stone can bring loved ones back from the dead, and make them live again. Because people are stupid. All nonsense, of course. Just romantic religious bullshit. A fake exotic history, to conceal the Stone’s far more dangerous nature.

“The Lazarus Stone isn’t actually a stone, and it doesn’t really bring the dead back to life . . . As such. No no no . . . It’s some kind of mechanism, almost certainly alien in origin, and it’s all to do with Time Travel. Supposedly, and I say this because I don’t know anyone who’s actually used the thing successfully . . . Supposedly the Lazarus Stone can reach back through Time, and pluck any person from the Past, just before History says they died. Then bring them forward into the Present Day. So that someone who was dead can live again. This of course rewrites History. Often in unexpected and highly disturbing ways. So it is possible that the Lazarus Stone has been used and I just didn’t notice. No one would, except for the people involved. I wonder if they thought it was worth it, in the end . . . I loathe Time Travel. You put butter in a pocket watch and it’s bound to mess up the works even if it is the very best butter. Our family did possess the Stone briefly, but the Regent of Shadows took it with him when he left.”

“What?” I said. “Why?”

Laurence leaned in close to the bars, and slipped me a sly wink. “Ask your uncle Jack! And do it quickly, oh yes; accessing me sets off all kinds of silent alarms, up above. And you can be sure they’ll all come running to shut me up before I say something they think I shouldn’t. Before I can say things about the family that the family doesn’t want anyone to know.”

He shoved his face right up against the bars, glaring at me. “Too late! Too late!”

I took a step back, reached out and took hold of the Merlin Glass, and shook it down to hand-mirror size. I showed it to Laurence.

“Do you know what this is?”

“Of course I know!” said Laurence, pouting just a bit. He thrust a hand through the bars and tried to snatch the mirror from me, but I was careful to stay just out of reach. Laurence sneered at me, and stepped back. He pulled a white hair from his head, studied it intently, and then threw it away. He waved at the hand mirror, as though he could see someone in the reflection as well as himself, and then smiled at me guilelessly.

“That is the Merlin Glass, and you only think you know what it is and what it’s for. It’s not a toy. Or even a useful device. That . . . is Merlin Satanspawn’s last revenge upon our family.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

He shook his head several times, and then smiled craftily at me. “Let me out of here and I’ll tell you. No? You’re smarter than you look, Eddie Drood. Are you sure? I could tell you so many things.”

“I thought you wanted to be locked up down here,” said Molly.

“That was then,” said Laurence. “This is now. They’re different. The family will never let me out. I know that. When I let them imprison me, I never thought I’d live this long . . . But then, who knows how long a Living Library will last? Information is immortal, and Truth wants to be free! I am the family’s memory, and as long as the family goes on, so must I . . . After I’ve spent all these years soaking up Drood information and Drood secrets, they can’t ever allow me to fall into someone else’s hands. Far too dangerous . . . But one day I will know all there is to know, including all the things they’ve managed to keep from me, and then . . . I’ll just walk right out of here and there will be nothing they can do to stop me! And oh, the fun I’ll have, walking up and down in the world, and playing with it . . .”

He laughed softly, a cold, horrible, and barely human sound. He broke off abruptly and looked at Molly.

“There’s something you want to ask me, little witch. About the Regent of Shadows, and just how dark the shadows get.”

“Yes,” said Molly. “Do you know who gave him his orders after he left the family?”

“Of course!” said Laurence. “I know everything! That’s the point. Arthur Drood, Grandfather to Eddie, late husband of the late Matriarch Martha. The Drood with a conscience, they used to call him . . . though that didn’t last long once he was out alone in the cold cold world. The Droods used him to do their dirty work. All the secret executions and deniable operations thought to be too much even for Droods. They held the possibility of being allowed to return over him, of being welcomed back into the bosom of the family . . . and he did want that so very badly.”

“Who was it?” Molly said harshly. “Who, specifically, gave him his orders? Who told him to kill my parents? Was it the Matriarch?”

“Oh, she was just one of many,” Laurence said offhandedly. “A lot of people in the upper registers of the family used the Regent, for their own reasons, to do the things they weren’t supposed to do. He did so many bad things, and so many good . . . before he finally wised up. And realised the family never had any intention of taking him back. He told them all to go to Hell and walked away, and set up his own organisation. The Regent of Shadows, doing good, doing penance, for the atonement of sins.”

Laurence abruptly turned his back on us, went back to his bed, and lay down again, staring up at the ceiling. As though all the energy had suddenly gone out of him. When he spoke again his voice was flat, almost uninterested.

“The Regent killed an awful lot of people who needed killing. And I’m afraid that includes your mother and father, Molly Metcalf. They did do so many awful things as part of the White Horse Faction, that you never knew about. Because they never wanted you to know what kind of people they really were.”

“Shut up!” said Molly. “Shut up!”

She turned away from the bars, hugging herself tightly, as though to hold herself together. Laurence’s soft laughter drifted out of the cell.

“You see, Eddie? People come to me and they say they want the truth, but they don’t. Not really. You’d better go now. People are coming. And they really won’t be happy to see you here.”

“Will you tell them I was here?” I said.

“Only if they ask.” He laughed happily. “I know everything there is to know, but you need to know the right questions to ask. And you didn’t ask the right questions, Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf.”