"You see?" I said to Harry. "It is all about me. Aren't you jealous? Don't you wish he was here to arrest you?"

"I told you I always know where everyone is," said the Sarjeant-at-Arms, as if I hadn't spoken. "There's nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide in the Hall, that I can't find you."

"Hide from you?" I said. "Perish the thought. We always have such fun together. Are you here on your own, Sarjeant? No backup? You really think you can take me, without an army to drag me down?"

"I don't need an army. I'm the Sarjeant-at-Arms. You will come with me, Edwin, because to do otherwise would be to defy the will of the family. Are you really ready to be declared rogue again?"

"Arrested," I said thoughtfully. "For what, exactly?"

"As a material witness," the Sarjeant said calmly. "For suspected involvement in the murder of Martha Drood. As a suspected accomplice of the suspected murderer, the witch Molly Metcalf. I am sorry about what happened to her. You have my word that I will track down whoever it was that drove the mob to a killing madness, and I will see them punished. But it doesn't change anything."

"No," I said. "Nothing ever really changes, when it comes to me and the family. How many times do I have to prove myself?"

"No one is bigger than the family," said the Sarjeant. "Now come along with me. You'll be kept safe and secure, until your trial."

"Like Sebastian was kept safe, inside the isolation ward?" I said. "No one even saw his killer come and go. Lock me up, and I won't live long enough to stand trial."

"That will not be allowed to happen to you," said the Sarjeant, his face and voice entirely unmoved. "You? will be kept under twenty-four watch, for your own protection."

"This must feel like all your birthdays come at once, Sarjeant," I said. "But what about the Apocalypse Door, and Doctor Delirium?"

"The family does have other field agents, Edwin. Really quite competent ones. They will deal with the problem. You are not irreplaceable. Now come with me. The needs of the family must always come first."

"No," I said. "Not always. Because the family doesn't always know what's best for it."

"And you do?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"And you say I'm the arrogant one," said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

We were staring right into each other's faces when William suddenly pushed himself between us.

"You can't fight here!" he said sharply. "What are you thinking of? This is the Old Library, repository of Drood knowledge! I will not risk these books being destroyed, and precious knowledge lost! You can't fight here; I forbid it!"

"Step aside please, Librarian," said the Sarjeant. "I must do my duty. Some things are more important than books."

William suddenly threw his arms around the Sarjeant, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him in place. Since he was only half the Sarjeant's size, this was impressive.

"Go, Edwin!" William said loudly. "Do what you have to do! I'll hold him!"

The Sarjeant stood very still, though he could have thrown the Librarian off just by flexing his chest muscles. He looked rather embarrassed.

"Please, Uncle William. Let me go. I have no intention of taking Edwin anywhere."

We all looked at him. William let go, just a bit shamefacedly, and stepped back. The Sarjeant cleared his throat, and looked at me.

"As you said, Edwin, if I? was going to take you away by force, I'd have brought reinforcements with me. A lot of them. But from what my CSI people have already told me, it's clear neither you nor Molly were involved in Martha's murder. However, there is still a large faction in the family who want you arrested, on general principles, and it will make my investigation easier if people don't know I've already cleared you. Since I know where every member of the family is, at any given time, it wouldn't be plausible for me to say I couldn't find you. So I have tracked you down here, and arrested you, in front of these impeccable family witnesses. Not my fault that you got away afterwards, is it? I told you, Edwin. I'm the sneaky one."

"So you are," I said. "But why are you letting me go?"

"It is clear to me that Molly Metcalf was murdered because you were getting too close to the truth, over whatever is going on with Doctor Delirium and the Apocalypse Door," said the Sarjeant. "So it is clearly in the best interests of the family to let you continue your investigations."

I looked at Harry, who shrugged. "Far be it for me to stand in the way of greatness. Off you go, and save the world again. I'll do my best to hold the family together in your absence."

Roger Morningstar just smiled briefly. "Bye, Eddie. See you in Hell."

I nodded briefly to them all, and strode quickly away. And the moment I was out of sight behind the next stack, I called up the Merlin Glass and went travelling again.

I stepped through the glass into the War Room. I wasn't done with the Hall yet. There were things I needed to know, and the War Room always had the most up-to-date information. No alarms sounded when I appeared out of nowhere right in the middle of the most closely guarded part of the Hall, though they very definitely should have. The Merlin Glass was learning, and I had to wonder what its limits might be. Still, that was a problem for another day. I had enough on my plate as it was. The Glass took its time about disappearing, in a smug sort of way.

The War Room is a vast auditorium carved out of the solid rock beneath Drood Hall. From here, we see everything-or at least, everything that matters. The whole world is our playing field, and we don't miss a trick. The stone walls are covered in row upon row of state-of-the-art display screens, showing every country, place and individual of interest in the whole world. And not just the parts the official maps show. Lights blazed on all the screens, showing developing situations and all the places where the family was at work. A green light for every successfully completed mission; blue for persons of immediate interest, or those on our current hit list; amber for potential trouble sites; and red for a current threat. There was a hell of a lot of red on the screens, but that was just business as usual in the War Room.

This is where the family makes the decisions that keep the world turning.

Men and women sat in long rows, concentrating on their workstations. Farcasters peered into their crystal balls, while technicians worked their computers, and a whole crowd of people murmured constantly in the communications centre. Runners hurried quickly back and forth with urgent information. Chatter was kept to a minimum, and no one hung around the watercooler. The new head of the War Room ran a right ship. The only one allowed to have hissy fits and throw things was him.

Callan Drood hadn't been in charge long, but he applied himself to his new position with all his usual vim and vigour. He looked a lot thinner than the last time I'd seen him, and a hell of a lot more intense. If that was possible. He was dressed smartly, as befitted his new authority, but wore it awkwardly, as though he was wearing it only because he'd been told to. His thin blond hair had been cut raggedly, and was plastered to his head with sweat. He stood right in the middle of it all, glaring about him, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to see everything at once. His mouth was a flat compressed line, when he wasn't shouting at someone.

He just nodded distractedly when I made myself known to him, and gestured abruptly for me to wait until he was ready to talk to me. Everyone made a lot of allowances for Callan. Word was, he was still adjusting to the new torc he'd been given, after the Blue Fairy had ripped the last one from around his throat, during the Hungry Gods War. Mind you, a lot of us thought he was just putting it on, to let him get away with things. Callan was like that. When he finally deigned to give me some of his attention, all the time he was talking one or other of his hands would sneak up to touch or play with the torc at his throat, as though to reassure himself it was still there.