“That is partly why you’re here,” I said. “I need you to train my family, turn them into warriors, to fight a war against impossible odds and the most powerful enemy even you’ve ever seen.”

“I can do that,” said Giles. “I’ve made armies out of worse. I can take the most unprepossessing material and turn them into fighting men. I am a Deathstalker. We win wars. It’s what we do. How long have I got?”

“Good question,” I said. I looked at the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “Talk to me, Cyril. I need to know exactly what’s been happening while I’ve been away. Just the high spots, for now; I’ll pick up the details later, as we go along.”

The Sarjeant nodded slowly. “Welcome back, Edwin. The family has missed your . . . decisiveness. You have to understand; Harry had the support of the Matriarch. I had no choice . . .”

“Just tell me what happened,” I said. “We can spread the blame around later. You can start with, how did everything go so wrong? When I left we were winning. Sort of.”

“Manifest Destiny had some of their people at the Nazca site,” said the Sarjeant. “Long before you and your team arrived. Truman wanted to keep a close eye on his new allies. But everyone he sent there ended up possessed, or infected, by the Loathly Ones. They returned to Truman, to spread the gift that keeps on giving. They infiltrated his organisation and penetrated his new base, infecting others in their turn. They became his closest advisors and whispered poison in his ear. They persuaded Truman to support the establishing of new nests, and fund the building of new towers.

“Backed by Manifest Destiny’s resources, and under Truman’s protection, the Loathly Ones spread their influence across the world, embedding their infected agents in organisations and governments in every country. Ostensibly they spoke for Manifest Destiny, representing it as an alternative to Drood rule. Of course, once they were invited in, they quickly moved up to high positions and set about spreading chaos and indecision, dividing humanity from within. There are nests everywhere now, in every country, often hidden away inside ghoulvilles to hide the building of their towers. Once these have reached a specific number, known only to them, the great summoning will begin and the Invaders will come through.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “They haven’t infected Truman himself? Why not? Then they’d run his organisation.”

“It seems they can’t,” said the Sarjeant. “After all the operations he’s carried out on his brain, it would appear he is immune to their touch.”

“Maybe we can use that,” I said. “If we could reach him, make him see the truth . . . we might even learn from him a way to make everyone immune . . .”

“Perhaps,” the Sarjeant said kindly. “If I might continue . . .”

“Oh yes, you go right ahead, Cyril. Don’t let me stop you.”