Scepter of the Ancients (12 page)

“Detective,” he said, “you are early. The Council is not ready to convene. I could show you to the waiting area, if you wish.”

“Actually, I might take the opportunity to show our guest around, if that’s all right.”

The man blinked. “I’m afraid access is strictly limited, as well you know.”

“I was just going to show my friend the Repository,” Skulduggery said. “The Book, in fact.”

“I see. Well, as Administrator of the Sanctuary, I would have to accompany you, naturally.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The Administrator bowed and spun on his heel, then led them down an adjoining corridor. They passed more people in gray uniforms as they walked. Stephanie was getting used to dealing with people with no eyes and no expressions, but there was still something about them that unnerved her. Skulduggery, living skeleton though he was, was still fundamentally human, and yet these people, who merely wore helmets to hide their faces, seemed to her much more sinister.

“Who are they?” Stephanie whispered as they walked.

“Cleavers,” Skulduggery replied in a low voice. “Security guards, enforcers, and army, rolled into one. Dangerous individuals. Be glad they’re on our side.”

She did her best not to look at them as they passed. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I’m taking you to see the Book of Names,” Skulduggery said. “Some say it was created by the Ancients, but the truth is no one knows who really made it, or how it was made. It lists the names of every person living on this Earth: the given name,
the taken name—when and if a name is taken—and the true name. Every time a baby is born, a new name appears in its pages. Every time someone dies, the name fades away.”

Stephanie looked at him. “So my true name is in that Book?”

“As is mine. As is everyone’s.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? If someone got their hands on that, they’d be able to rule the world.” She let a few moments pass. “And I felt ridiculous even saying that.”

The Administrator glanced over his shoulder as he walked. “Not even the Elders open the Book. It is too powerful—it can corrupt too easily. But they can’t find a way to destroy it—it can’t be torn, it can’t be burned, it can’t be damaged by any means we have at our disposal. If the legends are true and the Book
was
created by the Ancients, then it stands to reason that only the Ancients could destroy it. The Elders, for their part, see it as their responsibility to protect it, to keep it away from prying eyes.”

They reached a set of double doors. The Administrator waved his hand, and the heavy doors swung slowly open. They walked into the
Repository—a large room with marble pillars—which, as Skulduggery explained, housed some of the rarest and most unusual magical artifacts in existence. They passed row upon row of shelves and tables, on which lay items so bizarre they defied description. The Administrator pointed out one of the strangest of these: a two-dimensional box that held wonders to sate the most jaded of appetites, but which existed only if approached from a right angle. In contrast to this clutter, however, was the center of the room, which was empty save for a pedestal, and on that pedestal a book.

“That’s the Book of Names?” Stephanie asked.

“Yes, it is,” the Administrator answered.

“I thought it’d be bigger.”

“It’s as big as it needs to be—no more, no less.”

“And it’s okay to leave it out in the open like that?”

“It’s not as vulnerable as you might think. When it was placed here, the security arrangements did cause the Elders some concern. How would it be protected? Guards can be overcome. A locked door can be unlocked. A wall can be broken. A shield can be pierced.”

“So, what? They decided not to bother?”

“Actually, they came up with a most ingenious defense. Willpower.”

“Sorry?”

“The Book is protected by the Will of the Elders.”

Stephanie wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“See for yourself,” the Administrator said. “Take the Book.”

“Me?”

“You. You won’t be harmed.”

Stephanie glanced at Skulduggery, but he gave no indication as to what she should do. Finally she just turned and started walking toward it.

Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the next. She thought about trapdoors and immediately started examining the floor she was walking on. What form did willpower take? She hoped it wasn’t bullets or anything painful like that. She was mildly annoyed that she was even doing this, walking right into whatever trap the Elders had set up, and doing so willingly. For what? To prove a point that wasn’t hers? She didn’t even
want
to take the Book. This whole thing was ridiculous.

She glanced back, saw the Administrator standing there with a placid expression on his face, obviously
anticipating whatever was about to happen, whatever was going to pop out in front of her to stop her from taking their precious Book. She stopped walking. If he wanted the Book, he could get it himself. She turned and walked right back again. The Administrator peered at her.

“You didn’t take it,” he said.

Stephanie forced herself to remain polite. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll take your word for it that it’s well protected.”

“When you started walking, you wanted to take the Book, yes?”

“I suppose so.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I changed my mind.”

“Because you didn’t want to take it anymore.”

“Well, yes. So?”

“That is the Will of the Elders. No matter how badly you want that Book in your hands, the closer you get, the less you want it. It doesn’t matter if you want it for yourself, if you want it because you were ordered to take it, or because your very life depends on it. With every step you take, your indifference toward the Book increases, no matter who you may be or what power you may have. Even
Meritorious himself couldn’t get close to it.”

She looked at him, taking it all in. Finally, she had to say it; there was no way she couldn’t: “That’s very impressive.”

“It is, isn’t it?” The Administrator turned his head a little, as if hearing something. “The Council is ready for you now. Please come this way.”

They walked into an oval-shaped room and stood facing a large door. There was only one light source, from somewhere overhead, and the edges of the room remained in relative darkness.

“The Elders will be but a moment,” the Administrator said, and walked quietly away.

“They always do this,” Skulduggery said. “Keep people waiting.”

“My headmaster does the same thing whenever someone’s called to his office. He thinks it makes him look important.”

“Does it work?”

“It makes him look late.”

The door ahead opened and an old man entered. He had short white hair and a tightly cropped beard, and he was tall, taller than Skulduggery. He wore a suit the color of granite, and as he walked, Stephanie became aware of the
shadows to his right. They seemed to shift and stretch alongside him, and she watched as more of them reached over from the corners of the room to join the mass. The shadows suddenly rose up from the floor and melted into an elderly woman in black. She fell into step beside the tall man, and their footsteps slowed as they neared. A third person faded up from nothing, materialized right out of thin air on the other side of the tall man. He looked a little younger than the others, and he wore a sky-blue suit, the jacket of which was struggling to contain his hefty paunch.

Stephanie looked at the Elder Mages, and the Elder Mages looked at Stephanie.

“Skulduggery,” the tall man said eventually, his voice deep and resonant, “trouble follows in your wake, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘follows,’” Skulduggery answered. “It more kind of sits around and waits for me to get there.”

The man shook his head. “This is your new partner, then?”

“Indeed it is,” Skulduggery answered.

“No taken name?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s something, at least.” The man shifted his focus to Stephanie. “I am Eachan Meritorious, Grand Mage of this Council. Beside me are Morwenna Crow and Sagacious Tome. Can I assume that because you have not picked a name, you do not intend to involve yourself in our affairs for very much longer?”

Stephanie’s throat was dry. “I’m not sure.”

“See?” Skulduggery said. “Insubordinate.”

“You have been placed in dangerous situations,” Meritorious continued. “Surely you would prefer to go back to the safety of your normal life?”

“What’s so safe about it?”

“Ah,” Skulduggery chimed in. “Rebellious.”

“I mean,” Stephanie continued, “I could get knocked down crossing the road tomorrow. I could get mugged tonight. I could get sick next week. It’s not safe anywhere.”

Meritorious raised an eyebrow. “While this is true, in your normal life you never had to deal with sorcerers and murder attempts.”

The Elders were gazing at her with interest. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I can just forget about all this.”

Skulduggery shook his head sadly. “Troublesome.”

The woman, Morwenna Crow, took over. “Detective, you have petitioned the Council on numerous occasions concerning a supposed threat to the Truce.”

“I have.”

“And as yet you have failed to produce evidence.”

“This girl standing beside me is my evidence,” Skulduggery said. “Twice she has been attacked, and twice her attacker has been after a key.”

“What key?” asked Sagacious Tome.

Skulduggery hesitated.

“Mr. Pleasant?”

“I believe the attacker’s master to be Serpine.”

“What key, detective?”

“If Serpine is ordering attacks on civilians, this is a clear breach of the Truce, and the Council has no choice but to—”

“The key, Mr. Pleasant—what does it open?”

Stephanie glanced at Skulduggery’s inscrutable visage, and thought she could detect hints of frustration in the small movements he was making.

“I believe the key will lead Serpine to the recovery of the Scepter of the Ancients.”

“I never know when you’re joking, Skulduggery,”
Meritorious said, starting to smile.

“I hear that a lot.”

“You are aware that the Scepter is a fable?”

“I am aware that it is thought to be, yes. But I am also aware that Serpine has been working on tracking it down, and I believe Gordon Edgley may have had it.”

“Nefarian Serpine is now an ally,” said Sagacious Tome. “We live in a time of peace.”

“We live in a time of fear,” Skulduggery said, “when we’re too scared of upsetting the status quo to ask the questions we need to be asking.”

“Skulduggery,” Meritorious said, “we all know what Serpine did; we all know the atrocities he committed in the name of his master, Mevolent, and for his own gains. But for as long as the Truce holds, we cannot act against him without good cause.”

“He has ordered the attacks on my companion.”

“You have no proof.”

“He murdered Gordon Edgley!”

“But you have no proof.”

“He is after the Scepter!”

“Which doesn’t even
exist
.” Meritorious shook his head sadly. “I am sorry, Skulduggery. There is nothing we can do.”

“As for the girl,” said Morwenna, “we had hoped her involvement in all this would be minimal.”

“She’s not going to tell anyone,” Skulduggery said quietly.

“Maybe so, but if she takes one more step deeper into our world, it may be impossible for her to step out again. We want you to consider this carefully, Detective. Consider what it would mean.”

Skulduggery gave a slight nod of acknowledgment but said nothing.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Meritorious said. “You may leave.”

Skulduggery turned and walked out, Stephanie right behind him. The Administrator hurried over.

“I know the way out,” Skulduggery growled, and the Administrator backed off. They passed the Cleavers, standing as still as the wax models above them, and climbed the staircase out of the Sanctuary.

Skulduggery donned his disguise, and they walked back to the Canary Car in silence. They had almost reached it when he stopped and turned his head.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanie asked.

He didn’t answer. She couldn’t see anything beneath his disguise. Stephanie looked around, paranoid. It appeared to be a normal street, populated by normal people doing normal things. Granted, the street had potholes and the people were scruffy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. And then she saw him: a tall man, broad and bald, his age impossible to gauge. He walked toward them like he had all the time in the world, and Stephanie stood by Skulduggery and waited.

“Mr. Pleasant,” the man said when he had reached them.

“Mr. Bliss,” Skulduggery responded.

Stephanie looked at the man. He radiated power. His pale-blue eyes settled on her.

“And you must be the girl who attracts all sorts of attention.”

Stephanie couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what she would have said, but she did know that her voice would have been thin and reedy if she had tried. There was something about Mr. Bliss that made her want to curl up and cry.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Skulduggery said. “I heard you’d retired.”

There was something peaceful about Mr. Bliss’s
eyes, but it wasn’t the calming kind of peaceful. It wasn’t a peaceful that comforted you and made you feel safe. It was another kind of peaceful, the kind that promised you no more pain, no more joy, no more anything. Looking at him was like looking into a void with no beginning and no ending. Oblivion.

“The Elders asked me to return,” Mr. Bliss said. “These are troubling times, after all.”

“Is that so?”

“The two men who had Serpine under surveillance were found dead a few days ago. He is up to something, something he doesn’t want the Elders to know about.”

Skulduggery paused. “Why didn’t Meritorious tell me this?”

“The Truce is a house of cards, Mr. Pleasant. If it is disturbed, it will all come down. And you are known for your disturbances. The Elders hoped my involvement would be enough of a deterrent, but I fear they have underestimated Serpine’s ambition. They refuse to believe that anyone would benefit from war. And of course, they still think the Scepter of the Ancients is a fairy tale.”