Property of a Lady Faire (A Secret Histories Novel) (10 page)

“What should we do with the box?” said the Armourer.

“Disregarding all the obvious answers,” I said, “do your best to destroy it, Uncle Jack. And if you can’t, hide it away somewhere very secure, and never tell anyone what you did with it. Because no one in this family can be trusted with something that could give them undisputed control.”

“How can you say that about the family?” said the Sarjeant.

“Experience,” I said.

I nodded cheerfully to Maggie, but she just glared at me.

“By turning down that box, you’ve forced me to become Matriarch,” she said. “I’ll get you for this.”

“Lots of people say that,” I said.

I moved away from the table, and that was when the Sarjeant-at-Arms got up to face me. He moved carefully forward to block my way.

“Before you go, Edwin, there is one further matter.”

“Oh yes, Cedric?” I said. “And what might that be?”

“You have something that belongs to the family,” said the Sarjeant, calmly and coldly. “And we really can’t allow you to leave the Hall while you still have it in your possession.”

“Really not with you,” I said. “What are we talking about, exactly?”

“The Merlin Glass,” said the Armourer.

He met my gaze steadily when I looked back at him. William was off somewhere else again. Or perhaps pretending to be, so he wouldn’t have to get involved. Maggie just looked confused.

“Ethel?” I said. “You’ve been very quiet through all this.”

“None of my business,” said the voice from the rosy red glow. “This is human stuff. I don’t get involved.”

I turned my attention back to the Sarjeant. “What brought this on, Cedric?”

“New Matriarch, new rules,” he said. “Can’t have something as powerful as the Merlin Glass out of our hands while a new Matriarch is finding her feet. When the Armourer first gave you the Glass, it was never intended you should keep it for your own exclusive use . . . The Glass was a gift from Merlin to the Droods, and it belongs with the family.”

I looked at the Armourer again. “This wasn’t your idea, was it, Uncle Jack?”

“This was a Council decision,” the Armourer said carefully. “We all agreed. You can’t keep the Glass, Eddie.”

“Are you worried I might use it to bring down the Matriarch if I decide I disapprove?” I said.

“A wise man covers all the options,” said the Sarjeant.

“So we decided to ask for the Glass back, while we’re all together here,” said the Armourer.

“Ask?” I said.

“We’re being polite,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “For now.”

“You’re talking like you’ll never get another chance,” I said. “I will be back. We can discuss this then.”

“We know where you’re going,” said the Sarjeant. “You’re going to the Department of Uncanny to talk to the Regent of Shadows. To get answers out of him. We don’t care about that. Skin him alive, for all I care. But you can’t use one of the family’s most powerful weapons for your own private war. Give it up, Edwin. That is a Council order.”

“So much for being reasonable,” I said. “I did try . . . Look, I need the Glass, for now. You can have it back when I’m finished with it. I think, after all I’ve done for this family, I’m entitled to a little latitude.”

“That’s not how it works, Eddie,” said the Armourer. “You know that.”

“Don’t I just,” I said.

“You can’t be allowed to leave here with the Glass!” said the Sarjeant.

“Try to stop me, Cedric,” I said, smiling slowly. And he flinched, just a little.

The Armourer was immediately up on his feet, glaring at me. “Are you seriously prepared to defy the family, Eddie?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s what I do best.”

Maggie was up on her feet too. “If I’m going to be Matriarch, I’m going to make decisions. They’re right, Eddie. You have to give up the Merlin Glass.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing!”

“Good for you!” I said. “That’s the trick; sound decisive, even when you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You’ll make a fine new Matriarch. Just not right now.”

“No one member of the family can be considered more important, more powerful, than the Matriarch or her Council,” said Maggie.

And suddenly she sounded less like a gardener and a lot more like someone in charge.

“Except,” said the Librarian mildly, “Martha clearly thought Eddie was more important, or she wouldn’t have left him the box. Would she? Hmmm?”

Everyone looked at William, but he had nothing more to say. Maggie glared at me, and I glared right back at her.

“Well done,” I said. “Not even officially the Matriarch yet, and already you’ve learned the joys of abuse of power.”

“Why should you have the Glass, and no one else?” she said.

“Because I’ve proved I can be trusted not to abuse it,” I said. “I love my family. I really do. And everything it’s supposed to stand for. But it’s at times like this that I know for a fact . . . I wouldn’t trust most of you further than I could throw a wet camel.” I smiled widely at all of them. “Moments like this . . . are why I prefer to maintain a distance between me and Drood Hall. Good-bye.”

I walked straight at the Sarjeant-at-Arms, and he stepped back and out of the way at the very last moment. I left the Sanctity, and didn’t look back once.

• • •

The doors opened quietly before me, and closed firmly behind me. The two guards were still on duty. They stared straight ahead, refusing even to look at me. Which was probably just as well. I was in the mood to hit somebody, or something. I started down the corridor, and then stopped as I heard the double doors open behind me. I turned quickly and then relaxed, just a little, as the Armourer came hurrying out of the Sanctity. He waited for the doors to close, and then glowered at the two guards.

“Go for a walk.”

“But we were told . . .”

“Go!”

They both left, at speed, neither of them looking back. The Armourer looked at me severely.

“Eddie, there’s a limit to how many times you can walk out on the family and still hope to come back.”

“I keep leaving, and I keep hoping the family will take the hint,” I said. “But somehow, they always find a reason to call me back.”

“And if this is the last time?” said the Armourer.

“I’ll send you a postcard from wherever I end up.”

“What if you need something from us?”

“Then I think I’ve earned the right to just walk back in and ask for it,” I said. “You know I’ll never leave here for good, Uncle Jack. I can’t. Because despite everything I still believe in what the Droods are supposed to be. Shamans, to the tribe. Shepherds, to Humanity. And I suppose . . . there are a few people here I would miss. Like you, Uncle Jack. But I have to go now. I have to go talk to my grandfather, at the Department of Uncanny.”

The Armourer nodded slowly. “Of course you do. He killed Molly’s parents. On the family’s orders. He knows things . . . you need to know.”

“How long have you known, Uncle Jack?”

“Always,” he said. “But I couldn’t tell you.”

“So many things you kept from me,” I said. “And you’re still keeping secrets from me, after all this time.”

“Because some secrets . . . just aren’t mine to tell,” he said.

“It’s time for the truth to come out,” I said. “All of it.”

“It won’t make you happy and it won’t make you wise,” the Armourer said gruffly. “You watch your back, boy. It’s lonely out there in the cold.”

He stepped forward and embraced me. I hugged him back, and then we let each other go. We’ve never been a touchy-feely family. The Armourer went back inside the Sanctity. And I stood there for a long moment, thinking.

• • •

I wasn’t sure where to look for Molly. I listened carefully, but I couldn’t hear any screams, or explosions. Which suggested she probably wasn’t inside the Hall any longer. More likely she’d gone back out into the grounds; the one part of Drood Hall that reminded her of her beloved private forest. I looked at the black oblong box in my hand. I’d snatched it up off the table and concealed it about my person while we were all arguing, and no one had noticed. Sleight of hand is a very useful talent in a field agent.

I studied the box carefully, and it still refused to make any sense. Supposedly my DNA was enough to open it, but my touch wasn’t doing anything. And I really hadn’t felt like experimenting with the box while I was inside Drood Hall. I wouldn’t put it past dear departed Grandmother to have concealed some kind of booby-trap inside. No, I needed somewhere safer . . . like Molly’s forest. I grinned, despite myself. Whatever was inside the black box, I really didn’t feel like leaving it in anyone else’s hands. I wondered if anyone had noticed it had gone missing yet . . .

I took out the Merlin Glass, and told it to take me to Molly. Wherever she was.

CHAPTER THREE

After the Will, a Last Testament

T
he Merlin Glass dropped me off by the family’s very own artificial lake, where I found Molly Metcalf keeping herself busy by tormenting the swans.

I took my time walking over to the edge of the lake. I didn’t want to startle Molly, or the swans. The lawns stretched away in every direction, broad and gently undulating, like a dark green sea under a brilliant blue sky. The waters of the lake were deep and dark, with mad ripples spreading in every direction. The surface was disturbed by Molly running across it, waving her arms wildly at the retreating swans, and shouting obscenities after them.

I paused, to look down at the Merlin Glass in my hand. Such a small and innocent-looking thing, in its hand-mirror guise. I wasn’t sure why I was so determined to hang on to it. The Glass was a useful enough item, but I’d managed perfectly well without it for years. It had never even occurred to me that I wasn’t going to give it back until the Sarjeant demanded that I hand it over. But now I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to need it. And I also couldn’t help feeling . . . that the Glass wanted to stay with me. Which was just a bit worrying. I put the hand mirror away in my pocket, and stood on the bank of the lake, looking out across the waters.

It’s not an everyday sight, even in the weird and wondrous grounds of Drood Hall, to see a witch charging across the surface of a lake with her dress rucked up to her waist, in hot pursuit of a dozen panicked swans. Their great white bodies shot this way and that, wings flapping energetically, never able to build up enough speed to get into the air, because they kept having to change direction when Molly got too close. She went sprinting up and down the length of the lake, her toes digging just below the surface of the waters to give her more traction. I stayed where I was, if only to avoid the energetic splashing from all concerned. My armour has many fine and useful qualities, but walking on water isn’t one of them.

“Molly?” I said, after a while. “Please stop doing that, and come over here and talk to me. I’m sure whatever the swans did, they’re really very sorry now.”

“Snotty, arrogant, entitled birdy things!” said Molly. Loudly. “They were looking down their noses at me!”

She stopped running, quite abruptly, and glared about her. The swans glided to a somewhat ruffled halt a safe distance away. Molly sniffed scornfully, and stomped across the water to join me. I reached down, and pulled her up onto the bank beside me. She was still scowling, which is never a good sign.

“Swans don’t have noses,” I said mildly.

“Well, whatever they have, they were looking down them at me! They don’t like me. I could tell. Yes, I’m talking about you, you fluffy white bastards! You’d better stay at that end of the lake, or it’s sandwich time for the lot of you!”

“You wouldn’t like them, Molly,” I said. “Swan meat is actually pretty bland and greasy. We have to supplement their feed with a special kind of corn just to make them palatable. Like the Royal swan-keepers do.”

Molly looked at me. “Didn’t I read somewhere that only the Royal family are allowed to eat swan?”

“We have a special dispensation,” I said.

“The Queen told you that you could eat swan?”

“No, we told her that we could eat swan.”

“I’ve had enough of this lake,” said Molly. “And the swans. Let’s go somewhere else, Eddie.”

• • •

We strolled through the grounds together, heading for a pleasantly shady copse of elm trees. It all seemed very calm and peaceful, but long experience had taught me that you can’t trust anything at Drood Hall to be what it appears to be.

“You should be more careful,” I said. “Antagonising swans is never a good idea. Powerful creatures, you know. A swan can break your arm. If it’s got a crowbar.”

Molly laughed, despite herself. “I couldn’t stay in the Hall,” she said. “Far too dark and gloomy. And claustrophobic. And far too many people looking at me.”

“Looking down their noses, perhaps?” I said. “Like the swans?”

“So,” Molly said brightly, in her best
I am changing the subject now and you’d better go along
voice. “How was the family?”

“Much as usual,” I said.

“Bad as that, eh?” said Molly.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been banished again. Go, and never darken our doorstop—the whole bit.”

“They should know by now,” said Molly. “That never works. So, what did your grandmother leave you in her will? Was it money?”

“No,” I said. “She just left me a keepsake. Something to remind me of the kind of person she was.”

Molly waited until she was sure I had nothing more to say, and then she said, almost casually, “Have you finished your business here?”

“Yes,” I said. “Nothing to hold me here now. It’s time for us to go visit the Department of Uncanny, and have our long-delayed little chat with the Regent of Shadows. My grandfather, Arthur Drood.”

“Good,” said Molly. “I could use cheering up. I am just in the mood for some serious violence and extreme property damage.”

“Never knew you when you weren’t,” I said.

“Flatterer,” said Molly.