“I was going to mention that,” I said. “I can’t help noticing that all the groups gathered here are based in England. Where are the Americans, and the Russians? Not to mention the Chinese, the Indians, and so on and so on? This is a worldwide threat we’re here to discuss.”
“The word went out,” said the Armourer. “It’s not our problem if they don’t take it seriously.”
“They can play catch-up later,” said Sir Parsifal. “I prefer smaller gatherings; decisions get made faster.”
“I was hoping the Regent of Shadows would be here,” said J.C. “A very useful person to have around when there’s sudden death in the offing, by all accounts.”
“His reputation does precede him,” said the Armourer. “But it was thought his presence here might prove . . . divisive.”
“Because so many of us would kill him on sight, for good reason,” said Sir Parsifal. “Penance and good works in his old age are all very well, but some of us remember why he really had to leave his family.”
I looked at the London Knight sharply, but he had nothing more to say. The Armourer looked uncomfortable, but remained silent. We all chose a chair and settled ourselves around the long table, allowing plenty of room between our various spheres of influence. The Armourer sat at the head of the table, as host, and looked hopefully about him . . . but nobody seemed to want to get the ball rolling. And then J.C. took his sunglasses off again, and glared about with his terrible glowing eyes. We all started, and looked quickly around.
“Is anyone else Seeing what I’m Seeing?” said J.C.
I called my armour out of my torc and fashioned a pair of golden sunglasses to look through, and glared all around me . . . but I couldn’t See anything new. I glanced at Molly, and she shrugged quickly.
“This whole place looks weird to me,” said Dead Boy. “I do feel sort of . . . at home, here, but then I would. What are you Seeing, Ghost Boy?”
“We’re not alone here,” said J.C.
“You can See Martians?” said Bruin Bear.
“Not . . . as such,” said J.C. He put his shades back on. “I think the sooner we make our decisions and get the hell out of here, the better. And no, I’m not going to say anything else.”
“Well, thanks a whole bunch for that,” said the Sea Goat. “Unnerve us all, why don’t you? Martians? Hah! Bug-eyed Monsters . . . I eat stranger things than that for breakfast in Shadows Fall!”
“It’s true,” said Bruin Bear. “He does.”
I looked around, one last time. The crystal walls blazed brightly . . . and maybe it was just my imagination that made me think I glimpsed huge dark shadows moving beyond them. The Armourer said the Martians were dead and gone, long gone. But that didn’t mean there was no one else here in the Tombs.
Louise wouldn’t have come here for no reason. . . . I made the golden sunglasses disappear, and deliberately turned my back on the walls.
“Hold everything,” said Molly. “Isn’t there going to be anyone here from Bradford-on-Avon? It is supposed to be the most important town in the world.”
“I thought that was Shadows Fall,” said the Sea Goat.
“No, we’re outside the world, strictly speaking,” said Bruin Bear.
Sir Parsifal leaned forward, the joints of his armour creaking loudly. “The town you just mentioned . . . is best left to itself.”
“We leave the town alone,” said the Armourer, “and they leave the world alone. It’s safer that way.”
“Boring . . .” said Dead Boy.
Sir Parsifal glared at him. “Since when do we allow walking corpses to attend our Summits? We used to have standards. . . . The business of the living should be determined by the living. Not by dead bodies with delusions of grandeur.”
Dead Boy punched Sir Parsifal in the head. The Knight’s head whipped round under the force of the blow, and we could all hear the bones in Dead Boy’s hand breaking. When Sir Parsifal turned back, his cold expression hadn’t changed at all. Dead Boy snarled defiantly at him, and quietly pushed the bones in his hand back into place again.
The Armourer was on his feet. “Behave yourself, Dead Boy! Or I will throw you out of this meeting! You know I can do it. And then you can explain to the Nightside Authorities why you weren’t present when the important decisions were made. And Sir Parsifal—apologise.”
“He started it,” said the Knight.
“You deserved it. You know the rules of the Summit. We all leave our personal feelings behind, the better to concentrate on the matter at hand. Now apologise to Dead Boy, or I’ll put you out. And you know I can do it.”
“Of course,” said Sir Parsifal. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”
“We’re Droods,” I said. “We can do anything. Everyone knows that.”
Sir Parsifal nodded. “Of course. You are quite right, Sir Armourer. I was forgetting. I apologise, Dead Boy.”
“Fair enough,” said Dead Boy. “Let’s all be friends! Group hug?”
The Armourer sat down again. I was still watching Sir Parsifal. My uncle Jack had warned me about head-butting and jockeying for position, but I hadn’t thought it would be so obvious. The Knight had pushed things, to see what he could get away with, and now he was sitting there quite calmly, looking around him, waiting for his next chance.
“The Meeting will come to order,” said the Armourer, harshly. “First order of business: does anyone here know exactly what the Crow Lee Inheritance is?”
There was a lot of glancing back and forth, but no one said anything. Until finally Natasha Chang cleared her throat in a meaningful sort of way.
“No one in the Crowley Project has had anything to do with the nasty old scrote himself, since we booted him out all those years ago. Are you saying you don’t know, Drood?”
“We know the Inheritance exists,” said the Armourer. “We know that a great many powerful organisations and individuals are preparing to go to war over it. So whatever it might or might not turn out to be, we have to decide what to do about it, now. Before things get really out of hand.”
“We’ve heard our fair share of rumours at the Institute,” said J.C. “The Inheritance could consist of all the riches, secrets, unique items he acquired down the years. More than enough there to go to war over. The Boss allowed me to take a quick look through Crow Lee’s file before I left. You wouldn’t believe how many pages it runs to. . . . But there’s nothing about an Inheritance. I don’t think any of us expected him to die so suddenly. . . .”
He looked at Molly and me, almost accusingly. I looked right back at him. I wasn’t going to let myself be ruffled. I was too busy keeping an eye on everyone else. I was starting to feel the undercurrents in the Meeting, all the dark and dangerous shapes moving just beneath the surface. I was beginning to get the feeling that not everyone present was singing from the same song sheet.
“Crow Lee made himself into a legend, in his own extended lifetime,” Bruin Bear said slowly. “The Most Evil Man In The World. Now he’s dead; I suppose it’s always possible he might turn up at Shadows Fall. And then we could just ask him.”
“No,” said the Sea Goat. “Not going to happen. Shadows Fall is for legends that no one believes in any more. People still believe in Crow Lee.”
“I don’t understand Shadows Fall,” said J.C.
“Not many do,” said the Bear.
“Why are you here, Bear?” said Dead Boy.
“Because if the Inheritance is what some people think it is,” said the Sea Goat, sounding suddenly sane and sober, “it’s worth going to war over. A war that would threaten all of us. Shadows Fall is a refuge for the spiritually walking wounded, and we don’t want its existence threatened.”
“How very lucid of you,” said Sir Parsifal.