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"Hey, Molly," it said. "Who’s the rube? New boyfriend? About time; you get really moody when you’re not getting your ashes hauled regularly."
"Not now, dear," Molly said indulgently. "Run along and play while I speak to the nice man. And don’t eavesdrop or I’ll do something unpleasant to your nuts."
The squirrel pulled a face at her and leapt back up into the safety of the trees. Molly came unhurriedly back to stand before me, beside the pool. I decided not to ask about the talking squirrel. I didn’t want to get sidetracked into what promised to be a very long story.
"Talk to me, Shaman Bond," Molly said. "Tell me this thing you know. And it had better be good, or there’ll be another cute little talking animal in my garden paradise."
"It’s about Edwin Drood," I said. "The new rogue. He’s in real trouble. Outlawed by his family, forsaken by his friends, all alone and on the run. He has been given good reason to doubt his family, or at least some part of it, and he wants to know the truth. He believes you can tell him things that others couldn’t, or wouldn’t. In return for your help, he’s prepared to offer you the one thing you want more than his head on a spike: a chance to bring down the whole corrupt Drood family."
"Works for me," Molly said easily. She sat down on the edge of the pool and trailed her fingers lazily through the lily-pad-covered waters. Fish came to nibble at her fingertips. I stayed on my feet. I would have felt too vulnerable sitting. Molly looked up at me with her dark, thoughtful eyes. "Where do you fit into this, Shaman? This is way out of your usual league. Why should I believe you when you say these things?"
"Because I’m Edwin Drood," I said. "And I always have been."
I armoured up, the living gold covering me in a moment. Molly scrambled onto her feet, glaring at me with wild, dangerous eyes. Her ruby mouth contorted with rage as she raised one hand into a spell casting position. I made myself stand very still, my arms limp at my sides, my hands conspicuously open and empty. She stood there, breathing harshly, and then slowly she pulled back from the edge and lowered her hand.
"Take off the armour," she said harshly. "I won’t talk to you while you’re wearing the armour."
With the armour off, I’d be defenceless. She could kill me, torture me, or mindwipe me into her slave; all things she’d threatened to do in the past. But I had come to her, so I had to make the gesture of trust. Of vulnerability. I subvocalised the Words, and braced myself as the living gold disappeared back into my torc. Molly looked me over, as though searching for signs of treachery, and I looked back at her as calmly as I could. Molly nodded slowly and moved a single step closer.
"I heard about what happened, on the motorway. About all the things your family sent after you. People all over town are having a hard time believing you fought them all off. I mean, no offence, Edwin, but…no one on the scene ever thought you were that good. Did one of the Fae really shoot you with an arrow?"
Moving slowly and carefully, I unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it back to show her the arrow wound in my shoulder. Molly took another step forward to study the healed wound more closely. She didn’t touch me, but I could feel her warm breath on my bare skin as she leaned in close. She pulled back again and met my gaze squarely. She was taller than I remembered, her eyes almost on a level with mine. She smiled suddenly, and it was not a pretty smile.
"So; Drood armour can be breached, after all. That’s a thing worth knowing. I could kill you now, Shaman. Edwin."
"Yes," I said. "You could. But you won’t."
"Really? Are you sure about that?"
"No," I admitted. "You’ve never been…predictable, Molly. But I’m not your enemy anymore. I’m not Drood: I’m rogue. That changes everything."
"Maybe," said Molly. "Convince me, Edwin. I can always kill you later, if I get bored."
I relaxed just a little and buttoned up my shirt again. Give me an inch, and I can talk anyone into anything. "You’ve tried to kill me often enough, in the past," I said. "Remember the time you blew up the whole Bradbury building, just to get me? The look on your face when I walked unharmed out of the ruins! I thought you were going to pop an artery."
Molly nodded, smiling. "Do you remember the time you stuck me through the chest with three feet of enchanted steel? Only to discover that like all good magicians, I keep my heart safe and secure somewhere else? I thought you were going to have a fit."
"We’ve lived, haven’t we?" I said dryly, and she laughed briefly. "We can work together," I said. "We want the same things in this, and who else has shared as much history as we have?"
"That makes sense," said Molly. "In a warped kind of way. Who knows us better than our enemies? Though I have to say the Shaman Bond thing came as a bit of a surprise." She cocked her head to one side, like a bird, considering me. "Why did you come to me as Shaman? You could have burst in here in your damned armour, safe from all my magics, smashed through my defences, and demanded I help you."
"No, I couldn’t," I said. "You’d have told me to go to hell."
"True, very true. You do know me, Edwin."
"Please; call me Eddie. And besides, I wanted to make a point. That I would share my secrets with you, if you would share yours with me. You know things, Molly, things few other people know; things you’re not supposed to know. And there are things I need to know about my family. Things that have been withheld from me." I looked around.
"And I really would like to know how you got a forest inside your house."
"Because I am the wild witch! I am the laughter in the woods, the promise of the night, the delight of the soul, and the dazzle of the senses. And because I hired a really good interior decorator. You never did appreciate me, Edwin."
"Eddie, please."
"Yes…You look like an Eddie. Now, if answers are truly what you want, look into my scrying pool. But don’t blame me if the truth you learn is a truth you’d rather not know."
Molly sat down beside her pool again, gathering her long white gown around her, and I crouched cautiously down beside her. The whole thing was a scrying pool? It had to be twenty feet across, easy, which would make it hellishly powerful. Molly slapped the flat of her left hand onto the surface of the waters, and the ripples spread out, pushing the lily pads to the borders of the pond. The crystal clear water shimmered, and then blazed bright as the sun, dazzling my eyes, before clearing abruptly to show me a vision of a man and a woman, in two different rooms, talking on the phone. I leaned forward as I recognised them. The man was the British prime minister; the woman was Martha Drood.
"You can See into the Hall?" I said, my voice hardly more than a breath. "That’s not supposed to be possible!"
"It’s all right," said Molly. "They can’t see or hear us. But listen now, and pay attention. You need to hear this."
"Look, this is your mess!" the prime minister was saying angrily.
"Drood agents, in full armour, fighting each other in full view of the public? Thank God the media didn’t catch it. Do you even realise what it’s going to take to put this right? The rebuilding, the witness intimidation programme, the hush money? All because you couldn’t take care of your own dirty work!"
"Stop whining," said Martha, her voice cold as a slap in the face.
"Damage limitations is one of the few things you’re actually good at. Probably because you’ve had so much experience at it. You will do everything you have to, and you’ll do it efficiently and well and very quickly, or I’ll have you killed and see if your replacement learns anything from the experience. Remember your place, Prime Minister. I got you elected so you could serve the family’s interests, just like your predecessors. The family knows best. Always."