“Do you know them?” Molly said quietly. “Do you recognise either of them?”
“The clothes are unfamiliar,” I said carefully. “I only know our most recent enemies, and there’s no telling how long those two have been down here.”
We both jumped despite ourselves, as the scarecrows stirred slowly, becoming aware that someone could see them. And then they fell still again, and the dimensional doors disappeared as the Merlin Glass put all the defences to sleep, one at a time. Until the corridor seen through the opening looked exactly like the one I could see with my own eyes.
“Did you know those . . . things were down here?” said Molly.
“No,” I said. “I’m not sure anyone does, any more. Even the highest parts of my family prefer not to know what goes on down here.”
“Is it safe for us to move on?”
“Only one way to find out . . .”
I moved slowly forward, Molly still clinging to my arm, and the Merlin Glass retreated steadily ahead of us. None of the booby-traps activated, and we walked right through the floating mines, unaffected. I was so tense from anticipation that all my muscles ached fiercely. The corridor stretched away ahead of us, as we moved from light into shadow and out again.
“Your family really doesn’t want anyone talking to this guy,” said Molly after a while. “Are there any human guards down here? Anywhere?”
“No,” I said. “Never have been. Apparently just continued proximity to Laurence Drood can be enough to mess with people’s minds.”
Molly glared at me. “Liking this plan of yours less and less all the time, Eddie.”
“We should be safe enough,” I said, trying hard to sound calm and reassuring. “As long as we don’t stick around too long.”
“How long is too long?”
“Good question. How the hell should I know? I never thought I’d ever have to talk to the man.”
“Isn’t there anyone else we could talk to?” said Molly.
“I’m doing this for my parents,” I said steadily. “Wouldn’t you have done something like this for your parents?”
“My parents are dead,” said Molly.
We walked on in silence, for a while, following the Merlin Glass. Either there weren’t any more protections or hidden surprises left, or the Glass just wasn’t bothering to show them any more.
“Eddie,” said Molly, after a while, “if Laurence is the Drood in Cell 13, what about the other twelve cells? Are there other secret prisoners down here? Somewhere?”
“Not as far as I know,” I said. “I think it’s more like it took twelve attempts to produce a cell strong enough to hold Laurence Drood.”
“I thought you said he asked to be locked away?”
“He’s been down here a very long time,” I said. “And as I understand it, he has been known to change his mind, on occasion.”
“Terrific,” said Molly. “What makes you think he’s going to be in any mood to help us? Or even answer your questions?”
“Because there’s one thing all the stories agree on,” I said. “Laurence Drood just lives for the chance to tell people things that will seriously mess with their head.”
“Terrific,” said Molly. “You can do all the talking.”
• • •
We came at last to what looked like a perfectly ordinary wooden door, set flush into a bare stone wall. A simple wooden slab, with no door handle, no bell or knocker, not even any obvious hinges. The Merlin Glass came to a sudden halt, on the far side of the door. Molly and I stood side by side and studied the wooden door carefully, from what we hoped was a safe distance.
“That’s it?” said Molly. “This is the infamous Cell 13? Doesn’t look very secure.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” I said. “In fact, that’s probably my family’s unofficial motto.”
“You have an official motto?”
“Of course: Don’t fuck with the Droods.”
“I thought it was Anything, for the family.”
“Same thing. It’s us versus the world, and the world had better beware.”
“I can believe that.” Molly scowled at the door. “How are we supposed to get in?”
“We can’t,” I said. “No one can. That’s the point. No one gets in, no one gets out. Food and drink are teleported in. Uncle Jack told me how to gain access to the Drood in Cell 13, back when I was briefly running things around here. Just in case I needed to know something only Laurence Drood knows.”
I armoured up my left hand, and then stopped and tensed, expecting all kinds of alarms to go crazy. But this close to Cell 13, different protocols took precedence. I placed my golden palm flat against the door, and said my name aloud. The wood of the door seemed to shudder under my touch, and then the whole door just faded away, replaced by a series of criss-crossing steel bars. Molly and I moved closer, together, to peer into the room beyond.
It seemed comfortable enough, for a cell in the depths of Drood Hall. Just a simple stone-walled room, with no window and only the most basic furniture. A man was lying on his back on the narrow single bed, wearing just a grubby white shirt and faded blue jeans. He ignored us, staring up at the ceiling. I said my name again, and he jumped up off the bed and stood quivering in the middle of the room. A small, slight man, who could have been any age at all, with a shock of white hair and wild, staring eyes. He looked at me, and then at Molly, his head cocked to one side like a bird.
And then he ran round and round the small room, his arms pumping at his sides, vaulting over the furniture and bouncing off the walls, building up speed. He went skittering up one of the walls like some terrible huge insect, dropped back down again, and ran round and round in tight circles, his arms flailing wildly. And then he launched himself at the steel-barred doorway, only stopping himself at the very last moment, to stare through the bars at Molly and me.
He wasn’t even breathing hard.
His eyes were large and luminous, and didn’t blink often enough. Up close, it was clear he was inhumanly thin, his shirt and jeans flapping loosely about him. The bones of his face pressed out against the taut skin. His smile was so wide it looked actually painful, revealing teeth like yellow-brown chisels. He all but vibrated with barely suppressed nervous energy. And above all, he had a strange, unnerving presence, as though there were more than one man standing before us.
When he finally spoke, the words seemed to just tumble all over each other in their eagerness to get out.
“Well well well, what have we here? Visitors! Oh yes . . . Don’t often get visitors, down here. Not allowed, oh no, very very rarely allowed. Because I upset people. Well! If they don’t want to know the answers they shouldn’t ask the questions. Should they? Don’t bother answering, it’s a rhetorical question. Still, I’m going to have to be on my very best behaviour with you two, aren’t I? Hmmm? For Eddie Drood and Molly Metcalf? No nasty little head games, for the infamous wild witch and the most respected Drood of all. I shall tell you everything you want to know.”
“Everything?” said Molly bluntly. “No lies, no evasions, no misleading half-truths?”
He grinned at her easily. “I do have a bit of a reputation, don’t I? But you mustn’t worry, you dear little thing you, you sisterly witch. I never lie. Not when a truth can do so much more damage.”
“My Eddie needs your help,” said Molly. “You mess with him, and I swear I will find a way to get to you.”