from it. For a telepath like Ammonia, peace of mind is everything. Everything. Isn’t that right, old girl?”
“Yes,” said Ammonia.
“And she has to be a vegetarian,” said Peter. “Because she can hear the dying screams and last terrified emotions of even the smallest piece of meat. Someone once told me that a plant screams when it’s plucked from the ground, but apparently that’s not true. Certainly not root vegetables, because we eat enough of the things. I haven’t had a sausage in years. Can’t even pig out when she’s away. You always know, don’t you, dear?”
“Does she always let you do all the talking?” said Molly.
“Mostly,” said Peter, entirely unperturbed. “It’s what I’m for. She has no small talk, poor old thing. And she doesn’t trust anyone. All the time we’ve been sitting here, chatting so cosily, she’s been trying to break through your shields, to see if she can. It’s not that she wants to know things; she can’t help herself. Have I distracted them enough now, old dear? Jolly good . . . I’ll be quiet. Got some serious liver damage to be getting on with. . . .”
“I’ve heard of both of you,” Ammonia Vom Acht said flatly, and my eyes snapped back to her. Edwin Drood and Molly Metcalf. The Drood who thinks he’s better than other Droods. Who thinks he’s the first Drood to develop a conscience. But you’re far from the first to try to redeem your family, Eddie. Power corrupts; always has, and always will. Those torcs of yours make you more powerful than people were ever meant to be.
“And you, Molly. The loudest and least of the infamous Metcalf sisters. Is there anything more obvious and pathetic than another young rebel without a cause? Who rejects everything so she doesn’t have to commit to anything? And yes, Molly, I know my reputation, too. Is there ever anyone more rejected than the one who tells the truths that no one wants to hear?”
“Well,” I said brightly. “That’s told us! But I don’t think I’ll take any of it too seriously. You tell the truth, Ammonia, only as you see it. ‘ “What is truth?” said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. . . . ’ ”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” said Ammonia.
“No,” I said. “Somewhat to my surprise . . .”
“I can’t stand people who aren’t afraid of me,” said Ammonia.
“It’s true,” said Peter, staring sadly into his drink. “She can’t.”
“I’m not hiring you to like me,” I said to Ammonia, meeting her gaze steadily. “I’m hiring you to break into our Librarian’s head and see if you can put him right. An other-dimensional entity assaulted his mind some years back, and it’s still scrambled. You think you can fix that?”
“I do love a challenge,” said Ammonia.
“It’s true,” said Peter. “She does. She really does. . . . Oh. Sorry, dear. Sorry, everyone. I’ve had too much to drink. Or not nearly enough. It’s so hard to tell. . . . But you will help them, won’t you, old thing? You can do this for them. You can do anything.”
Ammonia ignored him, all her attention fixed on me. “If I can put William Drood right, repair what damage has been done and put his personality back together again . . . will the family agree to pay my price?”
“What do you want?” I said.
“I want your Armourer to make something for me,” said Ammonia. “I want a crown like the one Molly is wearing right now. Only much stronger. I want something strong enough to keep the whole world out, so I don’t have to. So I can rest.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Could I try yours?” Ammonia said to Molly. “Just for a moment, to see what it feels like?”
“No, Molly,” I said immediately. Molly’s hands were already rising to the crown on her head, but when I spoke she snatched them back down again. I smiled at Ammonia. “You’re very . . . persuasive in person, Ammonia. But try anything like that again and the deal is off. Forever.”
“What?” said Molly. “What happened there?”
“You know a lot of Drood secrets,” I said. “And if you had taken your crown off, only for a second . . .”
“You sneaky cow,” Molly said to Ammonia.
“You have no idea what it’s like, never to be trusted even for a moment,” said Ammonia. “What makes you think I care about your stupid little secrets?”
“Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” I said.
Ammonia made us both wait outside in the garden while she said her good-byes to her husband. Or perhaps she wanted to lock up all the drinks cabinets before she left. Though Peter had the look of a man who would gnaw through a wooden cabinet to get to his favourite tipple. Molly and I wandered back up the garden path, stopping to smell the roses along the way. It really was a very peaceful setting.
“You know you can’t go back with us,” I said to Molly. “This is private, and very personal, Drood business.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Molly, in that special, casual tone of voice she uses only when she wants me to know that I’ll have to do something really special to make up for it later. “I’ll make my own way back. See you again, lover.”
She snapped her fingers and was gone. I sighed. She was going to go off and sulk now. She hated not being included in things. And it was going to take more than a double-layer box of Thorntons dark chocolate assortment to win her round this time.
Ammonia finally came out of the cottage, slamming the front door shut behind her. She stomped over to me, looked round her garden as though she wasn’t sure she would ever see it again, then looked at me standing on my own, and sniffed loudly.
“Let’s do this, if we’re going to. I don’t like to leave Peter on his own for too long. Get a move on, Drood; you’re the one with the Merlin Glass.”
I removed the mirror from its pocket dimension, but before I could even activate it, Ammonia stepped back sharply, as though I’d tried to shove a poisonous snake in her face. I looked quickly at the Merlin Glass, but for the moment it still looked like an ordinary hand mirror.
“There’s something in there!” said Ammonia, glaring into the Glass. “Something, or someone. I can’t see it, but it can see me. I can tell. It’s looking at me right now.”
I looked into the Glass, but all I could see was my own somewhat puzzled reflection. I shook the Glass a few times, on general principle, but the reflection stayed the same. I looked at Ammonia.
“Friendly . . . or unfriendly?”
Ammonia shrugged. “I could find out for you. But that would cost extra.”
“Then it can wait,” I said. “Let’s see what you can do with the Librarian first.”
I shook the Merlin Glass out to full size and opened a doorway directly to the Old Library. Ammonia peered interestedly at the new view on the other side of the mirror. Rows and rows of bookshelves, under a pleasant golden glow, stretching away in all directions for as far as the eye could follow. I went through the Glass first, to reassure Ammonia, but she didn’t hold back a moment in following me through. I shut down the Glass and put it away, turned to Ammonia and found the most dangerous telepath in the world was trembling visibly.
“It’s the memories,” she said. “Every book in this place still carries the traces of everyone who ever read it. It’s like millions of voices, all shouting in my head at once. It’s taking everything I’ve got to keep them out. Your Old Library is a lot older than you realise. It doesn’t belong to your family. Droods didn’t put the Library together; you inherited it. And then you brought it here with you from the Hall before this, and the Hall before that.”
“Okay,” I said, “you’re getting into family business and family secrets you don’t need to know about. Look away, Ammonia.”
She wasn’t even listening to me, her gaze fixed on something only she could see. “So many have passed through this place, and left footprints in the sands of Time. Not all of them were human. Gods and monsters have walked these dusty ways in search of lost and forbidden knowledge.”
“Okay,” I said, “you’re pushing it now. I don’t need the dramatics.”
Ammonia shrugged easily. “All part of the service. All part of what you’re paying for. I’m fine now. I’ve got your Library’s measure. It’s really quite pleasant, now that I’ve shut out the books. I can work here. Well away from your family, I’m happy to say, off in the Hall proper.”
I looked at her. “How do you know we’re not actually in the Hall?” “Because it’s my job to know things like that. This is some kind of pocket dimension. The Hall itself is . . . that way.”
And she pointed up and to the left with complete certainty. Given that the Old Library is only lightly connected to the real world, I decided not to push the point. She might be right.
