"But... I have heard," Sinner said deferentially, "that the lady in question is, and has been for some time... quite mad."
"Yes," said the Lord of Thorns.
Sinner looked at me. "It would explain an awful lot."
"Bullshit," I said, and everyone looked at me, startled. I shook my head firmly and glared at the Lord of Thorns. "You're guessing, just like all the others. Everyone I've talked to has had a completely different idea on who my mother is, but none of you really know anything for certain!"
"Can you please not shout at the Overseer of the Nightside?" said Pretty Poison. "Some of us would like to get out of here reasonably intact."
"If I ever knew the truth, it has been taken from me," the Lord of Thorns said calmly. "And, I would guess, from everyone else. Your mother covered her tracks with great care. And I am afraid there is no-one left older than myself for you to ask. Your quest ends here."
"No," I said again, glaring right back into his cold eyes. "I have to go on. I have to know. Are you going to try and stop me?"
The Lord of Thorns smiled slightly. "Perhaps I should, but no, I don't think so. You are a dangerous man, John Taylor, but you represent the possibility of my long function here finally coming to an end. I would welcome that."
I tried to think of what it must have been like, condemned to this small cave for thousands of years, his only occasional company those who came before him to be judged. Endlessly watching over the Nightside, seeing generations come and go in a world from which he must have felt increasingly distanced, his only comforts the cold exercise of responsibility and duty. He'd been a man, once. Just a man. He might be the Overseer of the Nightside, but he was really just a prisoner.
"Who put you here?" I said.
"If I ever knew, the knowledge has been taken from me." The Lord of Thorns looked broodingly at nothing for a while. "I suppose it is possible that I volunteered, but I rather doubt it."
"There must be somewhere else I can go," I said. "With all the Beings and Powers and Dominations that swan about the Nightside, there must be someone who still knows something ..."
"Use your gift," Pretty Poison said suddenly. "It's a part of your legend that you can use your gift to find anything. Why couldn't it find your mother for you, or at the very least, identify someone who could lead us to your mother?"
"It's not that simple," I said, "Or I'd have done it long ago. The more hidden a thing is, the harder and longer I have to look to find it. And the longer I spend with my mind open and vulnerable, the easier it is for my enemies to locate me and send something after me. The last time I used my gift, to banish the demon at the Gate, I felt Something closing in on me, trying to manifest. Something much nastier than the Harrowing. If I open up again, it will find me, even here. And I don't think even the Lord of Thorns could stop this new awful thing my enemies have unleashed. From now on, my gift can only be used as a very last resort."
"There's always the Tower of Time," said Sinner.
I winced. "I'd really rather not. Time travel is what you turn to after you've tried everything else, including closing your eyes and praying the problem will just go away. Time travel tends to cause more problems than it solves."
And since I now knew my enemies were operating out of a possible future, and sending their agents back through time, there was always the chance travelling in time might give them direct access to me.
Pretty Poison wasn't convinced. "But we could use time travel to go right back to the beginning of the Nightside and witness its creation for ourselves! All the answers and no more mysteries!"
"Not a good idea," said Madman. "There were Beings and Forces abroad at that time that could destroy us all. I have Seen them. The Past is not what we think it is."
We all looked at him, but that was all he had to say. He was definitely getting more lucid, but not any easier to have around.
The Lord of Thorns raised his head sharply. "The Authorities have sent people down into the World Beneath, against all truces and agreements. Apparently your banishing of the demon at my Gate set off some kind of alarm. They have blocked off the Gate and are working to seal off all the other entrances they know about." He looked at me. "I could kill them, if you wish. There are only a few thousand of them."
I had no doubt he could do it. I shook my head quickly, thinking of angels with their wings ripped off and all of Walker's watchers I'd spent good times with in the past.
"Sometimes death can be the tidiest of solutions," said the Lord of Thorns. "But as you wish. I can offer you another way out. No-one knows all the entrances and exits to my domain these days."
"You mean you keep secrets from the Authorities?" said Sinner. "I am shocked, I tell you, shocked."
The Lord of Thorns sniffed. "We haven't talked for centuries. They are in charge of the Nightside's politics. I am in charge of its soul."
"But we're still going to need Walker's people off our back, while I work out where to go and whom to see next," I said. "If the Authorities have ordered him to declare open season on me ..."
"I may be able to help," Pretty Poison said slowly. "I have a ... history, with Walker."
Sinner gave her a hard look. "You've kept very quiet about that."
"I have known many men," said Pretty Poison, just as sharply. "Countless men, over countless years. I was given to Walker once, as a present, by the Authorities. I could revisit him, using our old connection, and ... talk with him. Try and use our shared past to get him to call off his dogs for a while. Maybe even get some answers out of him. Of course, if he won't be reasonable ..."
"You are not to kill him," said Sinner.
"Of course not, sweetie. I need him alive to answer questions and call off his people."
"Alive and intact," Sinner said sternly.
"You're such a spoil-sport, sometimes. Very well, I'll do it the hard way then. I'll set up a spell so you can all observe our meeting." She reached out and took Sinner's face in her hands. "You have to learn to trust me, dear Sidney. I need to do this, to prove myself to you." She smiled suddenly. "I promise you this; Walker isn't going to know what's hit him."
Nine - Memories of the Way We Used to Be
Pretty Poison stepped delicately through a halo of hell-fire and materialised smiling before an astonished Walker. I could tell he was astonished because he actually raised both eyebrows at once. He was sitting at a table covered with a pretty patterned cloth, and a cup of tea raised halfway to his mouth. Pretty Poison looked unhurriedly about her, and the vision she was sending the rest of us pulled back to show an old-fashioned tea room, complete with live classical musicians and maids in traditional black-and-white uniforms. The musicians had stopped playing, staring open-mouthed at the new arrival, and the maids were falling back in pretty disarray. Pretty Poison smiled widely at Walker.
"The Willow Tree tea house! One of our special places.
How sweet that we should meet here again, after all these years."
Walker sighed and put down his cup. It was delicate bone china, with a willow tree pattern. Armed men and women came running forward from every direction to surround the table, their guns trained unwaveringly on Pretty Poison. Some of them brandished amulets and crucifixes, and at least one had an aboriginal pointing-bone. Pretty Poison just looked at Walker and raised an eyebrow. Walker gestured tiredly to the armed men and women.
"Everyone stand down. It's all right. This person is known to me. Resume your positions. Good reaction times, everyone. Except you, Lovett. See me later."