wouldn't stop staring at Molly.
'Inside job,' she said. 'Has to be.'
'But not by one of us,' said the Sarjeant. 'It would take a witch of your power to block Ethel's probes.'
'You really are pushing your luck, Cedric,' I said.
'You keep using my name as though it is an insult, or a weakness,' said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. 'It's just my name. And all of your sentimental attraction to the witch, and all your usual arrogance, will not stop me from carrying out my duty.'
I sneered at him, but I was already preoccupied with another thought. When the Blue Fairy died, I took back his stolen torc by absorbing it into my own armour. I didn't know my new armour could do that, until it did. I hadn't told anyone about that. Could another member of the family have discovered this trick, and be hiding the Matriarch's torc inside their own armour? It would explain why Ethel couldn't find it…
'Who investigates murders, inside the family?' said Molly, still doing her best to seem reasonable and cooperative. 'I assume such things do happen, even in this best-regulated of families?'
'Rarely,' said the Sarjeant. 'And then it falls to my office to investigate. With the help of my CSI people. They're on their way.'
'CSI?' I said. 'You've been watching far too much television.' He sniffed loudly. 'We have tech those people never even dreamed of. And all kinds of forensic magic. I will discover the truth, Edwin, no matter how hard you try to muddy the waters.'
'There's a lot of blood, on the body and on the sheets,' Molly said doggedly. 'Whoever stabbed the Matriarch must have got in close, and been covered in blood themselves. Surely your special CSI people can track down a set of bloodstained clothes?'
'Of course,' said the Sarjeant. 'Unless someone has already removed the bloodstains magically.'
I moved in close beside Molly, glaring at the Sarjeant, and he glared right back at me. The threat of violence hung in the air. And then we all looked round sharply, distracted by the approaching sound of urgent running feet. The Sarjeant suddenly had a gun in his hand, trained on the open door. Perhaps coincidentally, it was also covering Molly. I moved forward a little, to put myself between Molly and the Sarjeant. We were both just a moment away from armouring up, when Harry burst in through the door, and then stopped dead at the sight of the gun in the Sarjeant's hand. He was breathing hard, sweat on his face. He looked past us at the Matriarch, dead in her bed. He swallowed hard, and then turned his gaze back to Molly, and me.
'You've got to get her out of here, Eddie,' he said harshly. 'There's an angry mob headed this way, dozens of them, and not that far behind me. News of the Matriarch's murder has spread all over the Hall. Most of the family are shocked, or mourning, but a hell of a lot of them are out of their minds with shock and fury, and the need to take it out on someone. They've decided Molly is guilty, and they want blood. Someone's been whipping them up against the two of you, and for once it wasn't me.'
'Really, Harry,' I said. 'Couldn't wait to bring me the bad news, though, could you?'
'Will you forget that shit!' he said loudly. 'They're coming, and they want Molly dead! They'll tear her apart with their armoured hands!'
For once, I believed him. 'How much time have we got, before they get here?'
'You need to get moving now,' he said. 'I don't know where all this rage is coming from, but there's no way you can talk or bluff them out of this.' He looked at Molly. 'You did threaten to kill the Matriarch. In the Sanctity. News like that gets around fast.'
'And someone's taken advantage of it,' I said.
Surprisingly, the Sarjeant didn't pick up his cue. He was already mad as hell at the thought of Droods rioting in the Hall.
'A mob?' he said. 'On my watch? Droods running wild? I will not have such a lapse in family discipline! I decide who is guilty here; no one else!'
I looked at Molly. 'Time we were leaving.'
'Got that right,' she said tightly. 'I think we've overstayed our welcome.'
'Get her down to the Armoury,' said the Armourer. 'Shut all the doors and instigate full lockdown. No one can get through that. And don't open up again until I tell you it's safe.'
'You don't understand,' said Harry. 'You've got to go now! They were right on my heels! Just… run! While you still can. They'll kill her!'
'The Merlin Glass is back in my room,' I said to Molly. 'I didn't put it back in its subspace pocket because I thought I'd be using it to send you back to your woods. If we can get back to my room, that's our way out.'
'Go,' said the Sarjeant. 'I'll stand between you and the rabble.'
'You're not worried about losing your chief suspect?' I said.
'Go,' he said. 'When I want you I'll come and get you.'
I grabbed Molly's hand and we ran out of the Matriarch's suite. And there was the mob, just spilling onto the top floor from the end stairs. They saw Molly, and a great shout went up, of almost hysterical rage and bloodlust. Harry was right. Someone had put a lot of hard work into driving them completely out of their minds. At least they hadn't thought to armour up yet. They were still moving at human speeds, with human limitations. So I couldn't armour up to protect Molly, in case it gave them ideas. They came charging down the corridor, screaming and howling like animals, with outstretched clutching hands, fighting each other in their eagerness to get to Molly.
The Sarjeant-at-Arms stepped out of the Matriarch's suite, and took up a stand in the middle of the corridor, between Molly and me and the mob. The Armourer came out and stood by his side. The Sarjeant had two big guns in his hands. He fired a series of warning shots over the heads of the mob, and it didn't even slow them down. So the Sarjeant and the Armourer armoured up, and the moment they did, a great roar went up from the mob, as though they'd just been given permission to do what they wanted all along. They armoured up, every one of them. The Sarjeant shouted a powerful Word, and swore briefly when nothing happened. Under normal circumstances, the Sarjeant had the ability to take control of torcs and force Droods to armour down, that he might discipline them. But for whatever reason, the Word wasn't working. He opened fire again, but his bullets had no affect. His weapons had only ever been intended for use against enemies of the Droods. The Armourer produced his latest toy, something he'd still been testing the last time I was home: a tanglefield grenade. He lobbed it along the floor towards the mob, and it exploded in a shower of shimmering energy filaments that wrapped themselves around the first row of the mob, and brought them crashing to the ground. But the maddened rows behind just vaulted over the struggling bodies and kept coming. I hadn't realised just how many of them there were-dozens of Droods in full armour, coming to murder my Molly.
They hit the Sarjeant and the Armourer like a vicious tidal wave, and the sheer weight of so many bodies slammed the two men aside, throwing them back against the corridor walls. They struck out fiercely with their golden fists, felling man after man, but they could do nothing to stop the horde that rushed past them.
It all happened in a few moments, while Molly and I stood frozen in place, watching. I never really thought they'd get past the Sarjeant and the Armourer so easily. I'd never seen so many armoured figures coming at me, with murder on their minds. I'd never understood before how scary a blank golden face can be. Time… seemed to slow right down, giving me all the time I needed to study them.
Their golden armour was changing shape and form even as they advanced, becoming strange and awful, taking on the individual characteristics of their maddened owners. Changes that were usually only achieved after much thought and with great concentration were now thrown up in moments, imprinted on the armour by the sheer intensity of so many enraged minds. Their helms took on the shapes of strange beasts and unnatural insects, of horrid forms born out of nightmares. They weren't in control of their armour anymore; it was responding to their emotions, their instincts, and all their darker impulses. Monsters from the id.
New arms sprouted from golden sides, ending in jagged claws and pincers. Some of the mob dropped forward, and ran on all fours, while others became utterly inhuman, horrid creatures from the worst parts of the imagination; nightmares forged in gold and let loose in the waking world. All the things Droods are never supposed to be. The Armourer cried out in shock, to see such violation of the armour, and the Sarjeant swore fiercely as he fought against the rushing mob, but even as his fists rose and fell, striking men down left and right… he was just one man, and they were many.
The Armourer crashed to the floor, buried under a pile of flailing armoured figures. The rest of the mob vaulted right over them, intent only on Molly. The sounds they made… were not human sounds.
By this time Molly and I were running full pelt down the corridor, heading for my room, the mob ravening at
