Give the Matriarch credit, she didn’t so much as blink an eye at my tirade, even though no one else in the family would have dared talk to her in such a way. “Have you finished?” she said calmly.

“Get to the point or I’ll set fire to your shoes,” I said.

She smiled thinly. “So I’m only in charge of running this family when it suits you, Edwin? I don’t think so. You accepted the result of the election. You stepped down in my favour. You gave up overall duty and responsibility, in return for your . . . independence. You agreed to accept my authority as Matriarch; or do you now intend to remove me by force? Again?”

“Depends,” I said darkly. “Why am I here?”

“First, there is urgent council business that must be discussed,” said the Matriarch just a bit triumphantly, and I could have wept. She was going to do this her way, and all I could do was go along. Because she was in charge now, and because she really wouldn’t have summoned me back so urgently unless it was important. She didn’t want me back, undermining her authority and setting a bad example, any more than I wanted to be here.

The Matriarch nodded to the Armourer, and he sat up straight in his chair and launched into a prepared speech. “There are a great many questions left over from the Hungry Gods War,” he said, scowling more deeply than ever. “We never did find out who the traitor and damned fool in the family was who first summoned the Loathly Ones into our reality and opened a door for the Many-Angled Ones, the Hungry Gods. We’re sure now it wasn’t any accident. The traitor insisted on bringing the Loathly Ones through to use as weapons during World War Two, when there were many other, and far safer, options. So why did he do it?”

“There is . . . some evidence suggesting the traitor may still be alive and a part of this family,” said the Matriarch. Her voice was very cold now. “He would have to be over a hundred years old and extending his life through unnatural means. It seems . . . he has killed another member of the family and taken over their identity.”

“How is that possible?” I said, actually shocked. “When we’re all crammed together in this place, how the hell could he do it without being noticed? One of the reasons I was so glad to get out of the Hall was because of how closely we all live on top of each other.”

“No clues, no hard evidence, not even any real theories,” the Armourer said grimly. “Nothing definite, just . . . whispers. But whoever he is, he’s still making trouble. We’re pretty sure he started the Zero Tolerance faction in the family and founded and manipulated the Manifest Destiny group outside it. That faction still has its supporters in the family, muttering that we should be more proactive against our many enemies. Don’t look at me like that, Eddie. I know better than to believe such nonsense, but it’s what some people are saying.”

“Fools,” said the Matriarch. “We protect humanity by keeping its enemies off balance, playing one against another. We stick to the old ways because they work and have done for centuries.”

“Still,” I said, thinking hard. “A traitor, very old and very powerful, embedded deep inside the family. Like we don’t have enough problems . . . Are there any family members left who were active during the thirties and forties? They might be able to help us.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Martha. “I was but a child in those days. William is currently searching through family records in search of . . . gaps or anomalies.”

“Droods don’t tend to live long lives,” said the Armourer. “We live hard, we carry heavy responsibilities, and we burn out early. Which is why I’ve been thinking about a new kind of device: a whole new way to call up the recently dead and ask them questions.”

“No, Armourer,” said the Matriarch very firmly.

“All right, my last try was a bit of a disaster, but this one would work! I’m almost certain we could reach departed Droods from the thirties—”

“I said no, Jack!” The Matriarch glared at him until he lapsed into rebellious silence. “It is against family policy to encourage ghosts, or we’d be hip deep in revenants by now. You know very well that even the most dearly departed cannot be trusted. The dead always have their own agenda.”

“There’s always been a few manifestations in the Hall,” said the Armourer just a bit sulkily. “Why don’t we try them? I mean, Jacob may be gone, but there’s still the headless nun in the old gallery . . .”

“Good luck getting her to answer questions,” I murmured.

“All right then, what about—”

“The dead are out of bounds,” the Matriarch said loudly. “We will move on. We still don’t know who killed Sebastian. Or rather, what was left of him after he’d been infected and possessed by a Loathly One. He died in one of our most secure holding cells, inside an isolation tank.” She gave the Armourer a hard look, and he fidgeted nervously in his seat. “I was given to understand those tanks were impregnable.”

“They are!” said the Armourer. “I designed them myself. Be fair—he didn’t escape, did he . . . ? Whoever killed Sebastian walked right through all our defences, past all of our surveillance systems, scientific and magical, without setting off one alarm, and apparently was able to murder Sebastian without even entering the isolation tank. My people have gone over the whole damned area with every investigative tool we’ve got, including several I made up specially, and turned up nothing. Of course, if my best isn’t good enough for you . . .”

“Don’t sulk, Jack. It’s unbecoming in a man of your age. And sit up straight; you’re slouching again.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Edwin . . .”

“Don’t try pulling rank on me, Grandmother. I’ll slouch if I want to.”

“I was about to say, it always comes back to there being a traitor in this family. Someone with access to all our secrets.”

“Secrets,” I said. “Could this traitor . . . be the same traitor who gave up the secrets of the Hall’s defences so the Heart could be attacked? We never did find out who was behind that. And given what we now know about the sick and evil nature of the Heart, could those attacking forces have been good guys all along?”

“Ethel?” said the Matriarch.

“I keep telling you,” the disembodied voice said reproachfully, “I really don’t know. I know many things. Secrets of the universes. If you knew what pyramids were really for, you’d spit and go blind. But the Heart . . . made a lot of enemies before it came here. Destroyed whole worlds, whole civilisations, for its pleasure. I wasn’t the only one trying to track it down for justice and vengeance.”

“And your first contact with this dimension was through the Blue Fairy,” I said thoughtfully.

“Yes; he went fishing through the dimensions and happened to catch on to a very small part of me.”

“He opens dimensional doors,” the Matriarch said slowly. “And we brought him here, into the Hall, during the Hungry Gods War. On your recommendation, Edwin.”

“He betrayed my trust,” I said. “But he couldn’t be our traitor.”

“Why not?” said the Armourer. “What do we really know about him? A half elf, product of an elven father and a human mother. We have a pretty good idea of who the father was, but I don’t think anyone ever identified the mother . . . Could she have been a Drood? It would help explain why the Blue Fairy was so desperate to steal a torc from us.”

“I once discovered the Blue Fairy lurking in the old library,” I said. “Maybe he was looking for evidence of his family roots . . .”

“We need to talk with William,” said the Matriarch. “Ethel, establish a communication link, please.”

“Oh, sure! No problem! I love doing stuff like this. You know the material laws of your dimension are really easy to mess with. Basically because they’re not so much laws as local agreements. I could—”

“No, you couldn’t,” I said quickly. “Contrary to anything you may hear us say, we actually do like things the way they are. Just give us a window to the old library, please.”