“I told you we should have brought him into the Inner Circle,” said Penny. “Keep your enemies close, and all that.”
“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t trust him.”
“You keep saying that, but you won’t say why.” Penny waited, but I had nothing more to say. She sighed heavily. “All right, his best friend is a hellspawn, but you’re shacked up with the infamous witch of the wild woods. And you let her into the Inner Circle.”
“I trust Molly,” I said. “Hell, I even trust you, Penny dear. Harry, on the other hand … is perhaps a little too much like me. Crafty and devious and following his own flag.”
“You brought the Sarjeant-at-Arms into the Circle,” said Penny. “And you hate his guts. And you know very well he reports everything we say back to the Matriarch.”
“Cyril’s different,” I said. “I can trust him to put the good of the family first. Even over the Matriarch.”
“Well, much as I hate to interrupt this important bit of loafing about you’re so involved in, I have been sent to remind you very firmly, up to and including the use of violence if necessary, that it’s time for the Inner Circle meeting in the Sanctity. We’ve finally got a list of prospective candidates for the new torcs for you to take a look at.”
“About time,” I said, heaving myself gracelessly out of the deck chair. Not that far away, two teams of warriors in training lost their temper and jumped each other, brawling back and forth across the lawn with much flailing of fists, kicking, and occasional biting. Janissary Jane hurried over to bawl them out, and I decided it was time to leave them to it. They’d just have to manage without my moral support.
We all met in the Sanctity again, under the comforting crimson glow of the manifesting Strange. We’d all settled on that for his name, even though he kept plaintively insisting he felt much more like an Ethel. You have to draw the line somewhere. The Armourer was already there, of course, along with the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Molly was waiting at the door when Penny and I arrived. She gave Penny a long, hard look, and made a point of taking my arm in hers as we joined the rest of the Inner Circle.
“Jacob is still missing,” said the Armourer, not bothering with the usual hellos and how-are-yous. “It’s been two weeks since anyone’s seen him. He hasn’t been back to the old chapel, and even the headless nun has been asking rather plaintively what’s happened to him. Though what she sees in him…I’m beginning to think something’s happened to him.”
“How could anything have happened to him?” said Penny. “I mean, he’s dead. Has been for centuries.”
“More likely he’s up to something,” growled the Sarjeant-at-Arms. Ever since he’d been outed as a Cyril, his voice had taken on a distinctly lower tone. “No doubt something foul and appalling, which he will find terribly amusing.”
“Jacob can look after himself,” I said firmly. “I’m sure he’ll turn up when he’s needed. Whether we want him to or not. In the meantime, Penny tells me that you’ve finally agreed on a list of prospective candidates for the new torcs.”
“Yes, finally,” said the Armourer, glaring round impartially. “Fifty names have been arrived at, decided by due process, and after much deliberation, shouting, and hair-pulling.”
“Which means,” the Sarjeant said heavily, “that it’s time to talk about launching our first attack. We need to put on a massive show of force, as soon as possible. Prove to the world that we’re strong and united, and still a force to be reckoned with.”
“No,” Penny said immediately. “We’re not ready yet. We need more time, more training, and a hell of a lot more than fifty torcs before we can successfully put a force in the field.”
“They looked pretty good to me just now,” I said mildly. “And for once, I am forced to agree with the Sarjeant. Quick, someone take a photo. We need to do something big and aggressive, and we need to do it now. Some politicians, and other enemies, are growing increasingly restless. Reports are coming in from all over the world, of sabre rattling between countries, of invasions and excursions into disputed territories, that would never have happened in the old days, when we still ruled with a golden fist and made everyone play nice. And then there are all the usual suspects, stirring up trouble here and there just to test the waters and see what they can get away with. Dr. Delirium, the Cold Eidolon, and Truman in his new base, wherever that is, and I can’t believe we still haven’t got a decent line on that yet. Remind me to kick someone’s arse about that. No, people, we have to do something right now. Strike some shock and awe into our enemies; prove we’re still in the game and that bad boys will be severely spanked.”
“Then pick a target,” said the Sarjeant. “Anyone, as long as they’re a danger. You’re the one who kept going on about the Loathly Ones…”
“This is all moving too quickly,” Penny said stubbornly. “Move before we’re ready, and it could all backfire. We can’t afford for the world to learn just how weak we really are.”
“How will you know when you’re ready?” Molly said reasonably. “Training can only do so much. Eventually you’ve got to kick the little birdies out of the nest and see whether they fly.”
“I don’t know if this qualifies,” Strange said suddenly. “But I’m picking up a new report just coming in to the War Room. It seems to be saying we have a definite location for a large gathering of Loathly Ones.”
We all stood up straighter and looked at each other. Reports had been coming in for some time now that the Loathly Ones had been gathering together in unusual numbers, somewhere down in South America.
“Where?” I said.
“The Nazca Plain,” said Strange. “You know, that place where they have all the big lines dug into the ground, that make up shapes you can only see clearly from orbit, or something. Von Daniken said they were really landing pads for spaceships, in his Chariots of the Gods.”
“Hold everything,” said Molly. “You’ve read von Daniken?”
“Oh, sure!” said Strange. “I love a good laugh.”
So we all trooped straight down to the War Room, carefully not hurrying too much so as not to draw attention to ourselves. The family watched everything the Inner Circle did with great interest, and they did so love to gossip. If we were about to launch our first big attack, I didn’t want the information getting out in advance. The staff in the War Room was more than a bit surprised to see us, as the report on the Loathly Ones was still coming in from our agent in the field, one Callan Drood. We had hardly any agents out in the world at the moment, as it was hard to get anyone to volunteer without the protection of a torc. The Droods have a lot of enemies. Luckily, some of the younger members of the family were keen to prove themselves, and hopefully fast-track themselves for one of the new torcs.
I knew Callan. I’d been impressed by his attitude, and his thoroughness, when I found out he led the team searching through Truman’s old stamping ground under London. I suggested he might like to volunteer for field work, and he jumped at the chance. Though of course he had to be sarcastic and opinionated about it, so he could pretend he’d been talked into it against his better judgement. He didn’t want anyone to think he was a pushover. So I smiled, and sent him to South America. And now he’d been the one to find the Loathly Ones for us.
All the way down in South America. What the hell were they doing in South America?
Callan’s face filled one of the main display screens. He didn’t look too happy about things, but then he never did. His young, broad face was sunburned, his thin blond hair was plastered to his skull, and the sweat was dripping off him. All I could see in the background was a tall bluff face of some dark sandstone, and a sky so blue it was almost painful to the eye.
“About time you got here,” he snapped. “It’s a hundred and thirty in the shade out here, and there isn’t any shade. Bloody unnatural heat. Soon as this briefing has finished, I’m going to go find a swimming pool and drink it. I’m looking out over the Nazca Plain, and the Loathly Ones have been gathering down there for the last six months. They’re building something, out on the plain. I don’t know what it is, but I really don’t like the look of it. Local governments have been well bribed to stay away, and the whole area is out of bounds for tourists. There are guards on all the main approaches to turn people back and discourage anyone from asking too many questions.”