“Of course not. But as long as we have a cause in common, it’s in my best interests to be useful to you.”

“And he’s with me,” said Harry, very firmly. He was standing beside Roger again, as though he belonged there. “Roger and I go way back: old friends, old allies.”

“Dear Jesus,” said the Armourer. He sounded honestly shocked. “What have you been doing, Harry, what depths have you sunk to, that you could even consider befriending a thing of the Pit?”

“When your family turns its back on you, you have to find your friends where you can,” said Harry. “Right, Eddie? Now, no welcome home for me, Uncle Jack? After all these long years away, serving the family faithfully and well in foreign climes, with never even a thank you in return?”

“You could have come home any time,” said the Armourer. “The Matriarch might not have been too happy about it, but your father and I would have stood by you. We told you; we both told you, often enough. But you always had some excuse or another.”

“I’m here now, Uncle Jack. Because of my father.”

“You heard,” I said.

“Of course I heard. The whole world knows you murdered my father, dear Cousin Eddie. So here I am, representing all the Gray Fox’s old friends, allies, lovers, and enemies, all of us very upset that the legendary James Drood is dead. We want to know why. We demand answers.”

“It was a duel,” I said simply. “Armour to armour. He fought well, and died honourably.”

I didn’t even glance at Molly. Her part in James’s death was no one’s business but our own.

Harry looked at me, his head cocked slightly on one side. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s all there is,” I said. “I was at war with my family, and he just got in the way.”

“Then . . . you didn’t just murder my father, and take away everyone’s torcs . . . so you could take over the family and run it unopposed?”

“No,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It really wasn’t,” said the Armourer. “He’s telling the truth, Harry. Don’t you think I would have avenged my brother by now, if I thought he needed avenging?”

“Well, well,” said Harry. “How very intriguing. I can see I shall have to investigate further. Either way, I have come home at last, with my good friend Roger, to serve the family in its hour of need. Tell me how grateful you all are.”

“We can always use another experienced field agent,” I said. “But the hellspawn . . .”

“Please, call me Roger.”

“Don’t trust him, Eddie,” said Molly, back at my side again. “You can’t trust anything he says. Hell always lies, except when a truth can hurt you more.”