“Call me Sarjeant. It’s my title.”

“I could have Molly rip it out of your living brain,” I said. I was bluffing, but he didn’t know that. If the Sarjeant was so determined not to tell me, I wanted to know even more. It had to be something good. The Sarjeant sighed, just a little.

“My name is Cyril.”

Sometimes things are just too good to be true. I think the only thing that kept the whole Circle from collapsing into gales of hysterical laughter was our extensive knowledge of the Sarjeant’s brutality, and that he could summon weapons out of thin air when he felt like it.

“Cyril?” I said happily. “Bloody Cyril? No wonder you grew up to be a thug and a bully, with a name like that. You must have loved your parents.”

“They were fine, upstanding people,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Now, if I may continue my report on the transgressions of the ghost, Jacob?”

“Oh by all means,” I said. “Don’t let me stop you, Cyril.”

“There have been numerous reports of Jacob haunting the ladies’ showers and changing rooms.”

“I keep getting lost.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Jacob,” I said.

“And,” said the Sarjeant, “there have even been reports of him chasing the ghost of the headless nun through the catacombs.”

Jacob grinned. “Hey, she’s the only other ghost in the Hall. Can you blame me if I just want to swap a little ectoplasm? Nice arse, for a nun. Damn, she’s fast on her feet, especially considering she can’t see where she’s going.”

“You’re a member of the Inner Circle!” snapped the Sarjeant. “You’re supposed to set an example!”

“Oh, I am, I am . . .”

“Stop that,” I said quickly. “Your ectoplasm’s going all quivery. Let us move on. Are we any closer to establishing who was behind the recent attacks on the Hall, just before I was summoned home? Do we have any new information?”

“Nothing. Not a word,” said the Armourer.

“Perhaps we should ask the strange matter,” said the Sarjeant pointedly. “Since it did turn out to be responsible for the destruction of the Heart, in the end.”

“Wasn’t me,” said a calm and reasonable voice from inside the warm crimson glow. “I was still searching for the Heart at that stage, and didn’t even know it was in this dimension. You must remember; the Heart had made many enemies, from all the worlds and races it enslaved before it came here. Some of those enemies have been looking for the Heart almost as long as me.”

That sounded reasonable enough, but though I had much to thank the strange matter for, and it always said the right things . . . the fact remained that the strange matter was still very much an unknown factor. All we knew about it was what it had chosen to tell us. If it had been behind the other attacks, would it admit that? We had no way to compel the truth from it. I rubbed at my forehead as a slow, grinding headache began. Being paranoid is very tiring, but when you’re a Drood it’s the only way to stay one step ahead.