I couldn’t help but contrast this well-attended ceremony with the rush job the family had made of my grandfather’s funeral. Arthur Drood, the legendary Regent of Shadows, had been put to his rest with almost indecent haste. Because he committed the cardinal sin of walking out on the family, and being successful outside it. I had to wonder what kind of send-off I would get when my time came.
All the gryphons and peacocks who normally wandered the grounds had gathered together in small groups on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the proceedings with big eyes and quiet solemnity. Not a sound out of any of them, as though they understood what was happening. And perhaps they did. You don’t get ordinary gryphons and peacocks on Drood grounds.
I looked around me, at all the Droods, standing with heads bowed in their quiet, respectful ranks and rows. I didn’t know or even recognise most of them. It occurred to me, then, that I wasn’t even sure just how many Droods there were these days. So many had died in the recent wars and battles. Fighting the Hungry Gods, and the Accelerated Men, and the Immortals. And so many others. I looked from face to face . . . and a sudden thought struck me, squeezing my heart with a cold hand. Might some of them be the very secret agents Uncle Jack and I had talked about? The family within the family, specialising in deniable operations that only he had access to? Would it take something like the Armourer’s funeral to bring them out to show themselves in public?
And then an even worse thought came to me: could any of these very secret and secretive agents have been responsible for the Armourer’s death? If anyone could make a sudden death look like a natural heart attack, it would be them. Could they have done it to shut down our proposed investigation into them? Because he was ready to start asking awkward questions, on my behalf? Did I get my uncle Jack killed? That thought was too awful to bear. I couldn’t breathe for a moment; then I relaxed, just a little. No. They wouldn’t do that. I was almost sure they wouldn’t do that. Because the Armourer was their only link with the rest of the family. They needed him, to get the things they needed to do their jobs. Things only the Armourer could supply. So who would they turn to now? Maxwell and Victoria? Should I say something to them? Or might those very secret agents turn to me? As the only truly independent Drood left in the family?
I realised I was only thinking these things so I wouldn’t have to think about what was happening in front of me. So I pushed the thoughts aside and gave the funeral my full attention. Uncle Jack was what mattered. Everything else could wait.
I looked around the massed ranks of family mourners again and was relieved to see a few familiar faces. The Librarian, William, was standing not far away. All dressed up in his formal Sunday best, and looking very ill at ease in it. At least he wasn’t wearing his usual fluffy white bunny slippers. His assistant, Yorith, was right there at his side, keeping a watchful eye on him. Since I had brought William home from the Asylum for the Criminally Insane, he was a lot more together than he used to be, but his thoughts did still tend to wander, and so did he. Standing on William’s other side was his wife, Ammonia Vom Acht. A short, pugnacious bulldog of a woman. Except she wasn’t really there, of course. Just a sending, a telepathic projection. Ammonia would have been allowed in, as the Librarian’s wife, but she wouldn’t have been able to stand being among so many people for long. Crowds got past her mental defences, and then she couldn’t keep the voices outside her head.
“Hello, Eddie,” said a quiet, very familiar voice. I looked round and saw a short, rather plump young woman with straight black hair and heavy-framed spectacles smiling tentatively up at me. She held herself somewhat stiffly, as though to compensate for her lack of inches. Her formal clothes didn’t suit her, though I would have been hard-pressed to say what would. She took in my blank expression and smiled quickly.
“I’m Kate!”
“Of course you are,” I said. “Molly, this is Kate.”
“I’m Eddie’s controller,” said Kate, thrusting out a hand for Molly