Scepter of the Ancients (6 page)

“Like what? Like earth, wind—”

“Water, and fire, yes.”

“So show me.”

Skulduggery tilted his head a little to the right, and she could hear the good humor in his voice. “Very well,” he said, and held up his open hand in front of her. She frowned, feeling a little chilly, and then she became aware of a droplet of water running down her face. In an instant her hair was drenched, as if she had just surfaced from a dive.

“How did you do that?” she asked, shaking her head, flinging drops of water away from her.

“You tell me,” Skulduggery answered.

“I don’t know. You did something to the moisture in the air?”

He looked down at her. “Very good,” he said, impressed. “The first element, water. We can’t part the Red Sea or anything, but we have a little influence with it.”

“Show me fire again,” Stephanie said eagerly.

Skulduggery snapped his gloved fingers and sparks flew and he curled his hand and the sparks grew to flame, and he held that ball of flame in his palm as they walked. The flame intensified, and Stephanie could feel her hair drying.

“Wow,” she said.

“Wow indeed,” Skulduggery responded, and thrust his hand out, sending the ball of fire shooting through the air. It burned out as it arced in the night sky, and faded to nothing.

“What about earth?” Stephanie asked, but Skulduggery shook his head.

“You don’t want to see that, and hopefully you’ll never have to. The earth power is purely defensive, and purely for use as a last resort.”

“So what’s the most powerful? Is it fire?”

“That’s the flashiest, that gets all the ‘wows,’ but you’d be surprised what a little air can do if you displace it properly. Displaced air doesn’t just disappear—it needs somewhere to be displaced
to
.”

“Can I see?”

They reached the edge of the car park and passed the low wall that encircled it. Skulduggery flexed his fingers and suddenly splayed his hand, snapping his palm toward the wall. The air rippled and the bricks exploded outward. Stephanie stared at the brand-new hole in the wall.

“
That
,” she said, “is so cool.”

They walked on, Stephanie glancing back at the wall every so often. “What about the Adepts, then? What can they do?”

“I knew a fellow, a few years ago, who could read minds. I met this woman once who could change her shape, become anyone, right in front of your eyes.”

“So who’s stronger?” Stephanie asked. “An Elemental or an Adept?”

“Depends on the mage. An Adept could have so many tricks up his sleeve, so many different abilities, that he could prove himself stronger than even
the most powerful Elemental. That’s been known to happen.”

“The sorcerer, the worst one of all, was he an Adept?”

“Actually, no. Mevolent was an Elemental. It’s rare that you get an Elemental straying so far down the dark paths, but it happens.”

There was a question Stephanie had been dying to ask, but she didn’t want to appear too eager. As casually as she could, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her jeans, she said, as if she had just plucked this thought out of thin air, “So how do you know if you can do magic? Can anyone do it?”

“Not anyone. Relatively few, actually. Those who can will usually congregate in the same areas, so there are small pockets of communities all over the world. In Ireland and the United Kingdom alone, there are eighteen different neighborhoods populated solely by sorcerers.”

“Can you be a sorcerer without realizing it?”

“Oh yes. Some people walk around every day, bored with their lives, having no idea that there’s a world of wonder at their fingertips. And they’ll live out their days completely oblivious, and they’ll die without knowing how great they could have been.”

“That’s really sad.”

“Actually it’s quite amusing.”

“No, it’s not; it’s sad. How would you like it if you never discovered what you could do?”

“I wouldn’t know any better,” he answered, stopping beside her. “We’re here.”

She looked up. They had arrived outside a crumbling old tenement building, its walls defaced with graffiti and its windows cracked and dirty. She followed him up the concrete steps and into the foyer, and together they ascended the sagging staircase.

The first floor was quiet. It smelled of damp. On the second floor, splintered shards of light escaped through the cracks between doors and doorways into the otherwise dark corridor. They could hear the sounds of a TV from one of the apartments.

When they got to the third floor, Stephanie knew they had arrived. The third floor was clean, it didn’t smell, and it was well lit. It was like an entirely different building. She followed Skulduggery to the middle of the corridor and noticed that none of the doors were numbered. She looked at the door Skulduggery knocked on, the door that had a plaque fastened to it. LIBRARY.

While they stood there, Skulduggery said, “One more thing. No matter how much you might want to, do not tell her your name.”

The door opened before she could ask questions, and a thin man with large round spectacles peered out. His nose was hooked and his wiry hair was receding. He wore a checked suit with a bow tie. He glanced at Stephanie, then nodded to Skulduggery and opened the door wide for them to come through.

Stephanie realized why none of the doors were numbered—it was because they all led into the same room. The walls between apartments had been taken away in order to accommodate the vast number of books that had to be shelved. Stacks and stacks of books, a labyrinth of bookshelves stretched from one side of the building to the other. As they followed the bespectacled man through the maze, she saw more people, their attention focused on their reading, people half hidden in shadow, people who didn’t look exactly
right
. …

In the middle of the library was an open space, like a clearing in a forest, and in this open space stood the most beautiful woman Stephanie had
ever seen. Her hair was black as raven wings, and her eyes were the palest blue. Her features were so delicate, Stephanie feared they might break if she smiled, and then the lady smiled and Stephanie felt such warmth that for an instant she never wanted to be anywhere else but at this lady’s side.

“Quit it,” said Skulduggery.

The lady let her eyes move to him, and her smile turned playful. Stephanie stared, enraptured. Her body felt so heavy, so clumsy, all she wanted to do with her life was just stand here, in this spot, and gaze at pure and true beauty.

“Quit it,” Skulduggery said again, and the lady laughed and shrugged and looked back at Stephanie.

“Sorry about that,” she said, and Stephanie felt a fog lift from her mind. She felt dizzy and staggered, but Skulduggery was there, a hand on the small of her back, supporting her.

“My apologies,” the lady said, giving her a small bow. “I do forget the effect I have on people. First impressions, and all that.”

“Seems like every time you meet someone new, you forget that little fact,” Skulduggery said.

“I’m a scatterbrain, what can I say?”

Skulduggery grunted and turned to Stephanie. “Don’t feel self-conscious. The first time anyone sets eyes on China, they fall in love. Believe me, the effect lessens the more you get to know her.”

“Lessens,” the woman named China said, “but never entirely goes away, does it, Skulduggery?”

The detective took off his hat and looked at China but ignored her question. China smiled at Stephanie and handed her a business card. It was eggshell white and bore a single telephone number, etched with delicate elegance.

“Feel free to call me if you ever stumble across a book or an item you think I might be interested in. Skulduggery used to. He doesn’t anymore. Too much water has flowed under that proverbial bridge, I’m afraid. Oh, where are my manners? My name is China Sorrows, my dear. And you are …?”

Stephanie was about to tell China her name when Skulduggery turned his head to her, sharply, and she remembered what he had said. She frowned. The urge to tell this woman everything was almost overwhelming.

“You don’t need to know her name,” Skulduggery said. “All you need to know is that she witnessed someone breaking into Gordon Edgley’s
house. He was looking for something. What would Gordon have that someone might want?”

“You don’t know who he was?”

“He wasn’t anyone. His master, that’s who I’m after.”

“So who do you think his master is?”

Skulduggery didn’t answer, and China laughed. “Serpine
again
? My darling, you think Serpine is the culprit behind practically every crime.”

“That’s because he is.”

“So why come to me?”

“You hear things.”

“Do I?”

“People talk to you.”

“I
am
very approachable.”

“I was wondering if you’d heard anything: rumors, whispers, anything.”

“Nothing that would help you.”

“But you have heard
something
?”

“I’ve heard nonsense; I’ve heard something that doesn’t even deserve to be
called
a rumor. Apparently Serpine has been making inquiries about the Scepter of the Ancients.”

“What about it?”

“He’s looking for it.”

“What do you mean? The Scepter’s a fairy tale.”

“Like I said, it’s nonsense.”

Skulduggery went silent for a moment, as if he was storing that piece of information away for further study. When he spoke again, it was with a new line of questioning. “So, what would Gordon have that he—or anyone else—might want?”

“Probably quite a lot,” China answered. “Dear Gordon was like me—he was a collector. But I don’t think that’s the question you should be asking.”

Skulduggery thought for a moment. “Ah.”

Stephanie looked at the two of them. “What?
What?
”

“The question,” Skulduggery said, “is not what did Gordon have that someone might want to steal, but rather what did Gordon have that someone had to wait until he was dead in order to steal it?”

Stephanie looked at him. “There’s a difference?”

China answered her. “There are items that cannot be taken, possessions that cannot be stolen. In the case of such an item, the owner must be dead before anyone else can take advantage of its powers.”

“If you hear anything that might be of use,” Skulduggery said, “will you let me know?”

“And what do I get in return?” China responded, that smile playing on her lips again.

“My appreciation?”

“Tempting. That is tempting.”

“Then how about this?” Skulduggery said. “Do it as a favor, for a friend.”

“A friend?” China said. “After all these years, after everything that’s happened, are you saying that you’re my friend again?”

“I was talking about Gordon.”

China laughed, and Stephanie followed Skulduggery as he walked through the stacks. They left the library and traveled back the way they’d come.

When they were out on the street, Stephanie spoke up at last.

“So that was China Sorrows,” she said.

“Yes, that was,” Skulduggery responded. “A woman not to be trusted.”

“Beautiful name, though.”

“Like I said, names are power. There are three names for everyone. The name you’re born with,
the name you’re given, and the name you take. Everyone, no matter who they are, is born with a name. You were born with a name. Do you know what it is?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Do you know what your name is?”

“Yes. Stephanie Edgley.”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s your given name. That’s the name other people handed you. If a mage with any kind of knowledge wanted to, he could use that name to influence you, to attain some small degree of control—to make you stand, sit, speak, things like that.”

“Like a dog.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re likening me to a dog?”

“No,” he said, and then paused. “Well, yes.”

“Oh, cheers.”

“But you have another name, a real name, a true name. A name unique to you and you alone.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. You don’t know it either, at least not consciously. This name gives you power, but it
would also give other people absolute power over you. If someone knew it, they could command your loyalty, your love, everything about you. Your free will could be totally eradicated. Which is why we keep our true names hidden.”

“So what’s the third name?”

“The name you take. It can’t be used against you, it can’t be used to influence you, and it’s your first defense against a sorcerer’s attack. Your taken name seals your given name, protects it, and that’s why it’s so important to get it right.”

“So Skulduggery is the name you took?”

“It is.”

“What about me? Should I have a third name?”

He hesitated for only a moment. “If you’re going to be accompanying me on this, then yes, you probably should.”

“And
am
I going to be accompanying you?”

“That depends. Do you need your parents’ permission?”

Her parents wanted her to find her own way in life. That’s what they’d said countless times in the past. Of course, they’d been referring to school subjects and college applications and job prospects. Presumably, at no stage did they factor
living skeletons and magic underworlds into their considerations. If they had, their advice would probably have been very different.

Stephanie shrugged. “No, not really.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me.”

They reached the car and got in, and as they pulled out onto the road, she looked at him.

“So who’s this Serpine you were talking about?”

“Nefarian Serpine is one of the bad guys. I suppose, now that Mevolent is gone, he’d be considered
the
bad guy.”

“What’s so bad about him?”

The purr of the engine was all that filled the car for a few moments. “Serpine is an Adept,” he said at last. “He was Mevolent’s most trusted general. You heard what China was saying, about how she is a collector, how Gordon was a collector? Serpine is a collector too. He collects magic. He has tortured, maimed, and killed in order to learn other people’s secrets. He has committed untold atrocities in order to uncover obscure rituals, searching for the one ritual that he, and religious fanatics like him, have been seeking for generations. Back when the war broke out, he had this … weapon.
These days he’s full of surprises, but he still uses it because, quite frankly, there is no defense against it.”