Simon Green - Daemons Are Forever

“I’ve already sent him a very definite message,” I said.

“Killing a few MI5 agents won’t bother him,” said the Armourer. “As far as he’s concerned, they’re all expendable. We need to hit him where he lives.”

“Right,” said the Sarjeant. “Can’t have the prime minister getting cheeky. We need to slap him down hard, Edwin. Make an example of him.”

I shook my head slowly. “We can’t afford to show our hand yet, and risk revealing how weak we really are. And no one else in power seems to be feeling their oats. Penny took me down to the War Room; it was all very quiet.”

“Quiet before the storm,” said Penny. “Our researchers are all over the world’s media, official and unofficial, getting a feel for each government’s mood. And all our telepaths, scryers, and clairvoyants are working full time.”

I had to smile. Politicians only think they can keep secrets from the Droods.

“So far, everyone’s being very cautious, not wanting to rock the boat until they know whether or not there’s sharks in the water,” said the Armourer. “I don’t think they can believe their own reports about how weak and disorganised we are, at present. But that can’t last. They know all our field agents have gone to ground, and most of them know or suspect about the golden torcs’ disappearance. So sooner or later, somebody’s going to do something…just to see what happens. To see how much they can get away with. There might even be a direct strike against the Hall itself. Remember when the Chinese tried to nuke us, back in the sixties?”

“We have to do something about the prime minister,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Something sufficiently unpleasant, to send a clear message to all the world leaders.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “Come up with some options, and I’ll look at them.”

“I thought one of the reasons you took over running the Droods was to free the world from Drood control,” said Molly. “I distinctly remember you saying something about letting politicians make their own decisions.”

“I did,” I said. “Turns out things are more complicated than that.”

“Isn’t that always the first response of every dictator?”

“Look; survival first, politics second, okay?” I said.

“Just wanted you to be sure of what you’re getting into,” Molly said sweetly.

“Speaking of survival,” said Penny. “We need to get as many of the family as possible into the new silver torcs, as quickly as possible. We’re just too vulnerable to sudden attack, as things stand.”

I nodded reluctantly. “All right, you guys get together and draw up a list for me to consider. Those who should get their torcs right away, those who should but only after they’ve proved themselves worthy, and those who won’t ever be trusted with a torc again.”

“Such as?” said Penny, her cool eyes openly challenging me.

“Anyone who knew about the secret of the golden torcs and just went along with it,” I said sternly. “Any unrepentant Zero Tolerance, and anyone who’d more than likely use a torc to start a civil war within the family. Use your own best judgement. We’re only talking about a small percentage of scumbags, I hope. Strange, any problem with producing so much strange matter, for the torcs and armour, so quickly?”

“Please, call me Ethel.”

“Not if there was a gun to my head.”

“You can have as many silver torcs as you want, Eddie,” Strange said easily. “It’s just a matter of bringing more of me through from my home dimension. I am great and limitless, wise and wonderful…But you don’t really need torcs, you know. I could teach you all to be superhuman. You have such potential within you, you humans. To be far greater than any torc could ever make you. You could all shine like stars.”

I looked at the Inner Circle, and they looked at me.

“How long would this take?” I said.

“Years,” said Strange. “Generations, maybe. This whole consecutive time thing is a new concept to me.”

“I think we’ll stick with what we know, for now,” I said. “The family needs to be strong as quickly as possible. But by all means, consider the alternative, Strange, and let me know when you’ve got something more specific to tell me.”

“Oh goody!” said Strange. “This is going to be such fun!”

“Any other matters?” I said quickly.

“Just one,” said the Armourer. He produced a small object wrapped in white samite from under his lab coat and passed it to me. I accepted and then unwrapped it with great care and caution. Gifts from the Armourer have a tendency to be downright dangerous, if not actually explosive. The object turned out to be a simple hand mirror, with a silver frame and handle. I hefted it a few times cautiously, just in case, but nothing happened. And the face in the mirror was quite definitely mine, so … I looked inquiringly at the Armourer.

“Jacob and I have been studying in the old library,” said the Armourer. “When I can tear him away from his…other pursuits. And we’ve turned up some quite remarkable items. A number of books thought to be long lost, or destroyed, a number of ancient maps of dubious provenance but exciting possibilities…and a handful of lost and quite legendary treasures. That… is Merlin’s Glass. It disappeared from the Armageddon Codex in the late eighteenth century, under somewhat murky circumstances. Jacob discovered it inside a hollowed-out book about voles.”

“Don’t even know what made me look there,” Jacob said cheerfully. “I was just looking for something with dirty pictures.”

“Hold everything,” said Molly. “Though not literally in your case, Jacob. Merlin’s Glass. Are we talking about the Merlin?”

“Oh yes,” said Jacob.

“He was a Drood?” said Molly.

“Hardly,” said the Armourer. “We do have our standards. No, he was Merlin Satanspawn, the Devil’s only begotten son. Born to be the Antichrist, but he refused the honour. He always had to go his own way…But according to some quite fascinating records in the old library, he did work with the family, on occasion. When it suited him. And apparently he owed us a favour, and repaid it by gifting us that mirror.”

Molly reached out for it, and I handed it over. She muttered some Words over the mirror, made a few quick gestures, and even held it upside down and shook it in the hope something might fall out, but nothing happened. Molly sniffed and handed the mirror back to me.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll bite. What’s it supposed to do?”

“It can be used to make contact with other members of the Drood family, in the past or the future, to ask them for advice or information.”

There was a pause, and then Molly said, “No offence guys, but I think you got stiffed on the deal. I mean, it’s not the most useless magic object I’ve ever seen…but it comes pretty damned close.”

“You’re a witch,” the Armourer said kindly, “and therefore used to thinking mainly in terms of the here and now. The Glass has many uses. Vital information lost in this time can be found in the past, before it was lost. Or in the future, after it has been rediscovered. The greatest family tacticians, of the past or the future, are now ours to consult. We can even take specific advice from the future, on which matters to pursue and which are best left strictly alone…”

“If this Glass is so useful,” I said, “how did it happen to go missing for so long?”

“Ah,” said the Armourer reluctantly. “There are many stories about that. The one I tend to believe the most, because I dislike it the most, is that someone asked the Glass a very specific question, and got a very specific answer that disturbed the shit out of him. So he took the Glass and hid it, to prevent anyone else from asking the question, or learning the answer.”