"It was for your own good," the Sarjeant said calmly. "You had to learn. And you were always so very slow to learn, Edwin."
I armoured up again and held up my fist. Golden spikes rose up out of the heavy knuckles. "Step aside, Sarjeant. I’m not going to be stopped this time."
"It’s not too late," said the Sarjeant. "You could still surrender. Submit to family discipline. Make atonement for your crimes."
"I never committed any crimes! Never! But the family has."
The Sarjeant sighed. "You never listen, and you never learn. Lose your armour, Edwin. Or I’ll make your companion suffer."
He pulled weapons out of the air. His singular talent, given to him so that he could protect the Hall. A gun appeared in one hand, a flamethrower in the other. He aimed them at Molly, and I lunged forward to protect her. Bullets hammered against my armoured chest and ricocheted away, but the flames swept right past me to threaten Molly…only to turn aside at the last moment, deflected by Molly’s magic. She jabbed out a hand at the Sarjeant, and he staggered backwards from the unseen impact. Molly laughed at him.
"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!"