"If you're seeing this, then I'm dead," she said flatly. "I suppose it could have happened in any number of ways, but I'm betting on violence. Droods live well, but we don't live long. Comes with the job. It doesn't really matter how; what matters is the family. Do not let my death divide or weaken the family. The Council must take over the running of things, until a new leader can be decided on. Work together; this is my last instruction to all of you. Edwin, we never agreed on anything much, except that the good of the family must always come first. Anything, for the family. Anything, for England. Anything, for Humanity. Remember that, and you won't go far wrong. I was always proud of you, Edwin, hard though you may find that to believe. Even when you outraged and defied me. Perhaps especially then. It's good to know the family can still produce lions as well as drones.

"Jack… Good-bye, my dear. My only living child. I wish… we'd found the time to talk more. But you were always so busy in your Armoury, and I had the family to run, and the world… just kept getting in the way. You always think there'll be more time, to say the things you want to say. Until suddenly there isn't.

"Sarjeant-at-Arms, do your duty. Protect the family. And if I have died at some assassin's hand, let nothing stand between you and getting to the truth. I think that's it. I can't think of anything more to say. I have no regrets. No apologies. Everything I did, I did for the family. Nothing else matters."

She stood there for a moment, seeming to see us all clearly with her fierce cold gaze, and then she was gone. I looked back at the body on the bed. It was hard to think of them as the same person.

"So," said the Sarjeant. "An unliving will. How very… practical. A pity she didn't name a successor. We can't take time out for elections; it would leave the family vulnerable."

"Who would have been the next Matriarch?" said Molly.

"Irrelevant," said the Armourer. He held his mother's dead hand in both of his, squeezed it briefly, and then let it go. He stood up and looked severely at the rest of us. "The old ways are gone. No one can inherit leadership; we have seen where that leads. We are a democracy now, for the good of our souls."

"The family chose to put Martha in charge again," said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

"As leader," the Armourer said firmly. "The title Matriarch was purely honorary. The family just felt… more secure, that way. No, the Advisory Council will run things, for now."

"The line of inheritance is broken anyway," said Howard. He was still by the doorway, still unable to bring himself any farther into the room. "The Matriarch's only daughter, Emily, is…"

"Dead," I said. "My mother is dead."

The Armourer came forward, and we looked into each other's faces. Then he opened his arms, and we hugged each other. Two sons who had lost their mothers. We let go, and the Armourer stepped back and nodded to me brusquely.

"I'll make all the arrangements. I know what she would have wanted."

"Any funeral will have to wait," said the Sarjeant. "The body must be examined, and the room, and the whole Hall must be searched, thoroughly." He looked at Molly again. "But the witch… must be excluded from all our discussions. She is not family. Edwin must also be excluded, because of his relationship to the witch. Both of them must be securely confined, until their guilt or innocence can be established."

"Not going to happen, Cedric," I said.

"You heard your grandmother's last orders," the Sarjeant said, unmoved by the clear threat in my voice. "Let nothing stand between me and the truth. Certainly not an ungrateful grandson and a notorious witch."

The Armourer made a sudden shocked sound, and we all looked round sharply. He was leant right over his mother's body, pointing at her bare neck.

"Her torc is gone! How did we miss that? How is it even possible? Every torc is bound to its wearer on the genetic level!"

We all crowded round the bed. There was no torc. Martha's neck looked almost obscenely naked without it.

"Is that what this was all about?" said Molly. "Was she killed so someone could take her torc?"

"No," the Sarjeant said immediately. "Far easier to kill a field agent, outside the protections of the Hall, and take their torc. But… there is a very old and awful weapon, right here in the Hall, that could have been used. Armourer, where is Torc Cutter?"

"Still safely locked away in the Armageddon Codex, along with all the other forbidden weapons," said the Armourer. "And no, the Codex hasn't been opened. I'd know. Whatever did this, it wasn't Torc Cutter."

"Could anyone have got the torc outside the Hall without setting off all the alarms?" said Molly.

"No," said the Sarjeant. "Which means it must still be here. Somewhere in the Hall."

A sudden thought struck me, and I contacted Ethel again. "Did you see what happened here?"

You know I don't watch individuals anymore, she said reproachfully. Not after we had that little talk about personal privacy. Still not sure I entirely grasp the concept, but whatever keeps you happy…

"Can you locate the Matriarch's missing torc?" I said.

Hmmm… That's odd. No, I can't. I should be able to, I should be able to isolate and identify every individual torc; but not this one. How very intriguing. Either someone of great power is blocking my probes, which I would have said was impossible, or… Actually, I don't have an or. The Sarjeant is quite correct, however, it must still be in the Hall somewhere.

"You've been listening!"

Of course I've been listening! This is an emergency, and I am part of the Hall's protections, after all.

I passed Ethel's comments on to the others, and they all considered them, in their various ways. The Sarjeant wouldn't stop staring at Molly.

"Inside job," she said. "Has to be."

"But not by one of us," said the Sarjeant. "It would take a witch of your power to block Ethel's probes."

"You really are pushing your luck, Cedric," I said.

"You keep using my name as though it is an insult, or a weakness," said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. "It's just my name. And all of your sentimental attraction to the witch, and all your usual arrogance, will not stop me from carrying out my duty."

I sneered at him, but I was already preoccupied with another thought. When the Blue Fairy died, I took back his stolen torc by absorbing it into my own armour. I didn't know my new armour could do that, until it did. I hadn't told anyone about that. Could another member of the family have discovered this trick, and be hiding the Matriarch's torc inside their own armour? It would explain why Ethel couldn't find it…

"Who investigates murders, inside the family?" said Molly, still doing her best to seem reasonable and cooperative. "I assume such things do happen, even in this best-regulated of families?"

"Rarely," said the Sarjeant. "And then it falls to my office to investigate. With the help of my CSI people. They're on their way."

"CSI?" I said. "You've been watching far too much television." He sniffed loudly. "We have tech those people never even dreamed of. And all kinds of forensic magic. I will discover the truth, Edwin, no matter how hard you try to muddy the waters."

"There's a lot of blood, on the body and on the sheets," Molly said doggedly. "Whoever stabbed the Matriarch must have got in close, and been covered in blood themselves. Surely your special CSI people can track down a set of bloodstained clothes?"

"Of course," said the Sarjeant. "Unless someone has already removed the bloodstains magically."

I moved in close beside Molly, glaring at the Sarjeant, and he glared right back at me. The threat of violence hung in the air. And then we all looked round sharply, distracted by the approaching sound of urgent running feet. The Sarjeant suddenly had a gun in his hand, trained on the open door. Perhaps coincidentally, it was also covering Molly. I moved forward a little, to put myself between Molly and the Sarjeant. We were both just a moment away from armouring up, when Harry burst in through the door, and then stopped dead at the sight of the gun in the Sarjeant's hand. He was breathing hard, sweat on his face. He looked past us at the Matriarch, dead in her bed. He swallowed hard, and then turned his gaze back to Molly, and me.