care in the world. Though it s hard to be sure with ships.
I do like this pier, I said. Thanks for bringing me here, Molly. Even if your friend isn t here. It does me good to be reminded that there are things in this world worth saving.
We could always go on one of the rides, said Molly. She indicated the various roller coasters and Tilt-A- Whirls, most of which swung too far out over the waters for my liking. I shook my head firmly.
I ve never understood the appeal of those things. My world is dangerous enough as it is without putting myself at risk on purpose. I wouldn t go on one of those things if you paid me. And I ve got Drood armour.
I can t believe I m saying this, said Molly. But you have no sense of adventure.
That isn t adventure, I said. That is one mechanical malfunction away from a major local news story just waiting to happen. Can we please go see this old friend of yours now? That is what we came here for, after all.
I thought you were enjoying yourself.
I was! I am. But part of being a Drood is knowing when to get down to business.
Look to your right, said Molly, and there you will behold Madame O s Palace of Mysteries. Look upon her wonders and marvel.
I looked. There, tucked away to one side, was an old-fashioned fortune-teller s tent. A droopy-looking thing, presumably surrounding the stall within, its rough canvas covered with all the usual symbols that the general public has been conditioned to accept as representing the mystical and the occult: moons and stars, witches on broomsticks and black cats. It couldn t have looked more fake if it tried.
That s the point! said Molly, when I expressed this view to her. No one would ever think to find the real thing here, looking like that. Would they?
I looked the tent over carefully. Who s she hiding from?
Pretty much everybody, said Molly. Madame O has conned, double-crossed, and done dirt to practically everyone in our game you can think of at one time or another. And, yes, very definitely including your family. During her long, involved and decidedly underhanded career, Madame O has been run out of every major city you can name, and some that aren t even there anymore. Her trouble is, she s got no self-control. She sees something she wants and she goes for it. Just grabs it and runs, and to hell with the consequences. Why are you looking at me like that?
Thought you were describing someone else for a moment, I said smoothly. Do carry on.
Madame O was my mentor, for a time, said Molly.
Taught me everything I know about taking advantage of the world. Well, not everything, but you d be surprised.
The hand-painted sign set up on an easel at the entrance to the tent read MADAME OSIRIS. KNOWS ALL, SEES ALL, TELLS ALL.
For the right price, said Molly. Madame O never gave away anything in her life.
I looked at the sign. Tell me that s not her real name.
Of course not! said Molly. To start with, Osiris is a man s name. One of the old male Egyptian gods. You see, you can learn things from watching old mummy movies. I don t think anyone knows Madame O s real name. According to old magical tradition, to know the true name of a person or an object is to have power over it. As long as I ve known her, it s always been Madame O-something. When I first met her in Vienna all those years ago, she was passing herself off as Madame Olivia, Daughter of the Night and Disciple of Darkness. She was a bit old for the badger game even then, but she still had a certain glamour. She could make grown men give up their credit card details and pin numbers just by looking at them in a certain way. She taught me all I know about deviousness and debauchery. Including that thing I do with my fingertips that you really like
Far too much information, I said. Can we trust her?
Of course not.
Then why are we here?
Because she knows things, sweetie.
Can we trust her to tell us the truth?
If we lean on her hard enough. We don t have enough money to bribe her.
I shrugged. She s your friend.
There are friends and there are friends, said Molly. And Madame O is neither.
She slapped aside the tent flap and strode in. I followed, carefully pulling the tent flaps closed behind me. I didn t want us being interrupted. Inside there was hardly any room to move, the lighting was kept deliberately gloomy so you couldn t tell how cheap the place was, and there was nothing in any way mystical about the atmosphere. The only light came from half a dozen candles in a cheap candelabra, illuminating the table and two chairs set up. The crystal ball on the table looked impressive enough at first glance; but I ve spent enough time around the real thing to know a fake when I see one.
Madame Osiris sat on the far side of the table, carefully positioned to be half-hidden in the shadows. A lady of a certain age, solidly built and wrapped in traditional gypsy robes, she looked like she could punch her weight. Her bare muscular arms were covered in cheap and tacky multicoloured bangles that clattered loudly against one another with every movement, while her long-fingered hands caressed the crystal ball in a disturbingly sensuous way. She had a handsome enough face with a good bone structure, under industrial strength makeup, topped with a silk turban. She bestowed on Molly and me a wide professional smile and launched into what was clearly a well- practiced routine, addressing us both in a rich smoky voice.
Enter, dear friends, into the Mysteries of the Hereafter! Learn what the future has in store for you! And together we shall Oh, bloody hell. It s you, Molly Metcalf.
Madame Osiris pushed her chair back from the table, allowing the candlelight to illuminate her fully, the better to glower fiercely at Molly.
Nice to see you again too, Madame O, Molly said cheerfully. Don t get up. We re not staying. And we re definitely not tourists, so lay off the purple prose.
Madame Osiris sniffed loudly. All the stalls on all the piers and you had to come walking into mine. I should have seen this coming. She looked me over in an impersonal sort of way.
So this is the new boyfriend, is it? You always did like them big and dumb, Molly. Whatever happened to Oh, you know, Big and Blond and Ethereal? I always liked him.
He couldn t stand the pace, said Molly. She smiled at me. This one can.
Nicest thing you ve ever said about me, I said.
Madame Osiris was still giving me the once-over, in a considering sort of way that was probably designed to make me feel uncomfortable. So when in doubt, attack. I struck a deliberately casual pose and gave her my best intimidating smile.
We re not here to have our futures told. We have questions we want answered.
You and the whole world, dearie. Oh, sit down, sit down. You make the place look untidy.
I glanced at Molly, who nodded to the only empty chair. I sat down facing Madame Osiris, and she smiled briefly like she d just won a point. Molly made a point of standing beside me with her arms folded impatiently.
Cross my palm with silver, dearie, Madame Osiris said briskly, and I shall reveal all.
You ll catch your death in this weather, said Molly.
How about I cross your palm with gold? I said. I sent my armour shooting down my arm to cover my hand in a golden gauntlet and slammed it down on the table. Madame Osiris didn t even jump. Just looked at it like I d dropped a fresh turd on the table before her.
Stone me, it s a Drood. She looked at my throat. Yes, there it is: the golden dog collar. Should have spotted it the moment you walked in I must be getting old. Looks a bit odd, though; a bit off-colour She raised an eyebrow, but I just smiled and said nothing, and pulled the armour back off my hand. Madame Osiris shrugged briefly. None of my business, dearie. See if I care. She looked reproachfully at Molly. Dating a Drood? That really the best you can do? I thought you had better taste. All right. What do you want to know? And, no, I don t do lottery numbers.
Where can we find the Regent of Shadows? I said.
She surprised me then by laughing in my face. Don t need a crystal ball for that one, dearie. You don t find him. He finds you.
Forget the clever dialogue, I said. I m not a tourist. Where, exactly?
You need the Department of the Uncanny, in London, Madame Osiris said resignedly. Go to Big Ben and then
