At close combat, the Yeomen Warders never stood a chance.

They couldn’t lay a hand on the Dancing Fool, for all their skill. He knew what they were going to do almost before the thought had entered their heads, and he moved like the trained dancer he was, every move calculated and graceful, fast and brutal. But the sounds of combat brought more Yeomen Warders running into the courtyard, charging forward to join the fray.

The Dancing Fool really was one of the best fighters I’d ever seen, but in the end he never stood a chance. Outnumbered and surrounded, the only futures left for him to see were the ones where the Yeomen Warders inevitably beat the shit out of him. He went down still fighting, but he went down and did not rise again. Battered and bruised, the Yeomen Warders stood over his unconscious body, breathing hard.

Strange Chloe might have saved him. With her anger raised, her terrible scorching stare could have raked through the massed guards like a machine gun. But of course, I couldn’t allow that. So I just moved in behind her while her whole attention was fixed on the fight, and then showed her the same nerve pinch I’d shown Coffin Jobe. Strange Chloe sighed once, her knees buckled, and I caught her and lowered her carefully to the cobbled ground. I didn’t want her hurting herself. I straightened up, feeling rather pleased with myself. All three of my colleagues safely taken out of the game, with none of them realising it was due to me.

I could probably have taken the Dancing Fool down too, before he got to the Yeomen Warders, but I never liked him much.

It was only then that I looked around for Big Aus, and the smile froze on my lips as I discovered he was nowhere to be seen. I raced over to the ravens’ lodging house, but the door was still firmly locked. The ravens were safe. But Big Aus wasn’t there. Well, of course he wasn’t there; he’d never really been interested in the ravens. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done, had just been cover for something else.

His crime of the century.

I glared quickly about me and caught a glimpse of a dark figure slipping silently into the stone passageway that led to Whitechapel Tower. Immediately I was off and running after him, knowing for sure now what it was he was after. And I’d made it possible, through my involvement. I got us in here, past the ghosts and the traps. I gave the Dancing Fool to the Yeomen Warders, thus holding their attention. But even so . . . I still couldn’t believe Big Aus thought he could get away with this.

I subvocalised my activating Words, and the golden armour held inside my torc shot out to cover my whole body in a moment. To the Yeomen Warders I must have seemed to appear out of nowhere as I dropped the no-see-me glamour. A golden statue of a man, smooth and seamless, glowing in the night as I raced through the stone passageway faster than any normal man could have managed. When I wear the Drood armour I am supernaturally fast, and strong, and impervious to harm. The great secret weapon of the Drood family, whereby we are able to take on gods and monsters and beat the living crap out of them until they remember their place.

More human guards appeared before me, crying out startled orders to halt and be recognised, but I was through and past them before they could even react. Combat sorcerers waved their arms and shouted harsh Words, but their magics shattered harmlessly against my golden armour. An automatic weapon opened fire from an upper window, but my armour just absorbed the bullets, or let them pockmark the old stone wall behind me. Half a dozen guards came together to block the entrance to Whitechapel Tower, determined to keep me out, and I didn’t have the time to stop and reason with them. They didn’t know the Australian fox was already in the henhouse. So I ploughed right through them, throwing them aside with my armour’s more than human strength, hoping I didn’t hurt them too badly.

They really should have known better than to try to stop a Drood about his duty.

I pounded up the stone steps two at a time to the great chamber at the top of Whitechapel Tower, but by the time I got there Big Aus had already entered the Jewel House and was smiling happily at the Crown Jewels laid out behind the enclosing iron bars. He looked around as I lurched into the Jewel House, took in my golden armour, and laughed breathlessly. I stood very still just inside the doorway, peering about me through the featureless golden mask that covered my face. (I could have put eyeholes in the mask, but I never did. I could see perfectly well through the mask, and besides . . . a featureless face mask spooks the hell out of the bad guys. Mostly.) Big Aus gestured grandly for me to enter, and I did so, my golden feet thudding loudly on the bare stone floor. Big Aus backed away, putting the Crown Jewels between us. The crowns and the diadems, the diamonds and rubies, the glorious regalia of centuries past.

Enough wealth to make any man a king.

Big Aus grinned at me, his dark eyes full of mockery. “So; Shaman Bond is a Drood. Didn’t see that one coming. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve planned this all so very carefully, you see, that not even a Drood field agent can stop me now. I chose my team so very carefully: greedy enough to go where even angels would be too sensible to tread, and dumb enough to swallow all that nonsense about the ravens. After all, the Tower could always get more ravens . . . I talked enough about my plans in all the right places that I just knew one of my team would turn out to be a Drood in disguise. After all, I was the one who sent your family the anonymous tip in the first place, just to make sure you’d get involved . . . Didn’t think it would be you, though, Shaman. No offence, but you never struck me as smart enough . . .”

I didn’t say anything. Just kept moving around the great circular display so he had to keep retreating before me.

“I needed a Drood, you see,” said Big Aus. “I knew I’d never get past all the defences here without a Drood’s help. I really thought the Dancing Fool was the Drood. He was a fighter, after all, and surely no one could really be that dumb and that arrogant . . . Anyway, you played your part wonderfully. Got me past the defences, drew off all the human guards, and bought me enough time to get to the Crown Jewels. I’m obliged to you. Really.”

“The Jewels are defended,” I said. I couldn’t stand the smugness in his voice anymore. “And while you might have got in, you’ll never get out.”

“Of course I will,” said Big Aus. “You can’t stop me. I am prepared. Even for a Drood.”

And suddenly there in his hand was an Aboriginal pointing bone. A small discoloured human bone, baptised in blood and murder magic. An Aboriginal shaman who knew what he was doing could point it at things that shouldn’t be in this world and make them disappear. Big Aus stabbed the pointing bone at me, and something slammed against my armoured chest like a cannonball. The sound echoed through the Jewel House, as though someone had just struck a great golden bell, but I didn’t move. I felt no impact inside my marvellous armour. I advanced slowly on Big Aus as he stabbed the bone at me again and again, and every time the impact and the sound was less.

Big Aus shrugged quickly, stuffed the pointing bone back into his pocket, and gabbled something in a language I didn’t understand. Which worried me just a bit, because my torc was supposed to translate every language I heard, or at the very least supply best-guess subtitles. These words were so old, so ancient and separate, that they predated the Druids who eventually became the Droods. Big Aus really had done his homework.

I was almost within arm’s reach of him. I showed him a golden fist, with spikes rising up from the golden knuckles. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his voice strained by the uncivilised words, his broad red face shining with sweat. He backpedaled so fast he was almost running, but he still stayed close to the Crown Jewels, refusing to be driven away. And then he spat out the last few words, and a snake big as all the world appeared out of nowhere and wrapped itself around me.