"What?" I said. "I don’t know what to tell them!"
"You’ll think of something," said the Armourer. "You have to take charge, Eddie. Push change through before the old guard take control again."
"Wait just a minute!" I said quickly. "I never even wanted to be a regular part of the family, let alone tell them how to run things! I ran away from this family the first chance I got, remember?"
"Well, you can’t run away this time," said the Armourer. "Not after all the trouble you’ve caused. You’ve smashed our defences, wrecked the Hall, demoralised the family fighters, destroyed the Heart, and taken away everyone’s torcs! You have a duty to undo the damage you’ve done."
"But—" I said.
"Only you can tell them the truth," said Jacob.
"It’s what your uncle James would have wanted," the Armourer said solemnly.
I glared at him. "I never knew you were so proficient at emotional blackmail."
He grinned. "Runs in the family."
And then we all winced and shuddered as Jacob took on his deathly aspect again. His spectral presence filled the chamber, cold and distant and only remotely human, powerful beyond imagination now that he was no longer bound by life’s limitations. His voice spread out through all of the Hall, ordering every member of the family to attend the Sanctity. Right now, no omissions, no excuses. I caught only the edges of the ghostly summons, and that was still enough to make me sway on my feet. The sheer power in Jacob’s voice was like nothing in this world. No one in the family would dare disobey.
And soon enough they came streaming through the great double doors and into the huge empty chamber of the Sanctity in ones and twos, and then in groups, and finally in crowds until there was a steady flow of bewildered Droods pressing in through the two doorways. Many of them were still wide-eyed with shock from the sudden loss of their torcs. For the first time in their lives they felt utterly defenceless and vulnerable, and they were desperate for answers and reassurances. They came in gabbling and shouting, only to subside instantly into murmurs and mutterings once they saw who was waiting for them. The family rogue, the family ghost, the bloodied Armourer, and the infamous Molly Metcalf. Whatever answers were coming, they clearly weren’t going to be very reassuring. Still they kept streaming into the Sanctity, house Droods and security Droods, researchers and planners and house staff, and every other member of the family. Right down to some extremely wide-eyed children, the smallest carried in their parents’ arms. The Sanctity filled up from wall to wall with Droods pressed shoulder to shoulder, while more peered in through the doorways.
"Make a start," the Armourer said to me. "Before people start getting crushed in the pack."
I looked at Molly, and she conjured up an invisible platform for the four of us to stand on, and then raised it several feet into the air, so everyone could see and hear me.
"It helps that they have to look up to us," she muttered in my ear.
"Gives us the psychological edge. Now go on; promise them bread and circuses, or something."
"Speaking of edges," said the Armourer just a little testily. "Could you perhaps put a little colour into the edges of this damned platform so some of us can see where the bloody things are? It’s a long way to fall, and some of us are feeling a bit fragile just at the moment."
The edges of the platform glared suddenly silver. They were a lot closer than I’d realised.
The chamber was now packed to bursting, with more faces peering in through the open doors. The muttering kept threatening to break out into something more, but didn’t, because any time someone started to raise their voice they found Jacob glaring at them, and then they got all tongue-tied and went right off the idea. The crowd went completely silent as the Matriarch finally arrived, pushing her way through the crowd. Everyone made as much room for her as they could to let her pass. She reached the front of the crowd and glared up at me on my platform. Instead of Alistair at her side stood the Sarjeant-at-Arms. His face was bruised and swollen, but his gaze was as cold and direct as ever. I nodded to the Matriarch.
"Hello, Grandmother. How’s Alistair?"
"Alive. Barely. He’s in the infirmary. They’re trying to save his face."
"He surprised me," I said, aware everyone in the Sanctity was hanging on our every word. "He was a good man, and true, at the end."
"I’ve always known that," said the Matriarch. "He served the family. Not like you. What have you done to us, Edwin? Where are our torcs? Where is the Heart?"
"That’s what you’re all here for," I said. "To hear the truth at last." I looked out over the crowd, at all the confused, frightened, desperate faces. "You’re here to learn the truth about everything that’s happened. Everything that’s been hidden from you down all the centuries of this family’s existence. The secrets only a Drood can tell you."
"We know you," said a female voice from deep in the crowd. "But what’s the infamous Molly Metcalf doing up there with you?"
There was a general murmur of agreement, quickly cut off as Molly snapped her fingers and the woman in the crowd squeaked loudly as all her clothes suddenly disappeared. Molly smiled sweetly upon the crowd.
"Any more questions? I just love answering questions from the crowd."
And while the crowd was quiet, I told them everything.
I explained to them what the Heart really was and the true nature of the bargain that had given us all our torcs. There were shocked cries and gasps, but no one challenged me. I told them how the bargain had to be confirmed by every new Matriarch, and every eye in the chamber went to Martha Drood. She ignored them all, glaring coldly up at me. I explained how I’d destroyed the Heart, and why they hadn’t all died when their torcs disappeared. And then I told them the final awful secret of the Droods, known only to the inner circle. That we were not the secret defenders of humanity, but their secret rulers.
I think there would have been a riot then, as various factions in the family shouted and pushed at each other, but Jacob rose suddenly up into the air and took on his spectral aspect again. The temperature in the Sanctity plummeted, and we all shuddered, and not just from the cold. Death was in the chamber and looking right at us. Jacob glared about him with no longer human eyes, and everyone went very quiet and very still, not wanting to draw his attention. Jacob sank slowly back onto the platform and resumed his usual form.
From the silence, one voice rose. The Matriarch cursed me, naming me traitor to the family, calling me a fool and a liar and an enemy of everything the Droods stood for. She said I was no grandson of hers and called on every Drood present to rise up and drag me down and kill me. Her voice rose and rose, shrill with fury and hysteria, spittle flying from her mouth, until suddenly the Sarjeant-at-Arms dropped a hand on her shoulder and gave her a good shake. Her voice cut off abruptly, and she looked at him, shocked. The Sarjeant let go of her and turned his back on her to address the crowd.
"You all know me," he said, and his familiar harsh voice held everyone’s attention. "You all know what I stand for. And I tell you, Edwin has earned the right to be heard. He’s the truest son this family ever had. Go on, boy. Tell them what they need to know."
"Thanks," I said. "I still hate your guts, mind."
"Goes with the job," he said, entirely unconcerned. "Get on with it."
So I told them the rest: how I’d been falsely outlawed by the Zero Tolerance faction who were secretly running Manifest Destiny. That really put the cat among the pigeons. They all knew about Truman and what his people stood for.
"We’ve been lied to," I said finally, tiredly. "We’re not who we thought we were. We aren’t the good guys, and haven’t been for centuries. But we can be; we can be what we were meant to be. If you’re prepared to fight for it."