I sighed. “You are both such a bad influence on me.”

I used the activating Words I’d memorised from the pages and ordered the Glass to show me what the Matriarch was doing, right then. Molly and the Armourer crowded in on either side of me as we stared into the Glass. Our reflections became dim and uncertain, and then were suddenly replaced by a view of the Matriarch’s bedchamber. It was as though we were watching from someplace by the door, unseen and unsuspected. Martha was now sitting on a chair beside the bed, ignoring Alistair, who stared up at the ceiling, making low, dreamy sounds. Presumably there had been a heavy dose of something in the soup. The Matriarch’s bedroom was still full of friends and supporters, but now she had new guests: Harry and the Sarjeant-at-Arms. I wasn’t really surprised to see either of them. Harry, because he needed support if he were to establish a new power base inside the family, and the Sarjeant because I’d always known which way his sympathies went, even before I invited him into my Inner Circle. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, especially when they’re family.

No Roger, though. Presumably Harry was hoping out of sight would mean out of mind. The three of us stared into the hand mirror, watching and listening silently as the voices in the room came clearly to us from far away.

“Hello, Grandmother,” said Harry, leaning right over to kiss her offered hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“There were reasons,” said the Matriarch. “As well you know. But you are here now, back where you belong, and that is all that matters. It is good to see you again, Harold. You have your father’s looks . . .”

“And my mother’s, so I’m told,” said Harry.

The Matriarch ignored that. “Much has changed, but the family’s needs must always come first. You can serve the family now, more than you ever did in your self-imposed exile. James was always my favourite son, high in power and esteem. Be my favourite grandson, Harold. Take control of the family back from the traitor Edwin. Restore the proper way of things. And all old . . . arguments shall be forgotten and forgiven.”

Harry smiled. “That’s what I’m here for, Grandmother.”

I shut down the Glass with a Word, and the scene was swept away by our returning reflections.

“Treacherous little scumbag,” said Molly. “Didn’t take him long to stick his knife in your back, did it?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised by any of this,” I said, slipping the Glass back into my pocket. “Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“Want me to turn him into something small and icky?”

“I can stop Harry,” I said. “If I have to. Grandmother believes in bloodlines, in children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?” said Molly.

“No,” I said.