Old Kingdom 04: Across the Wall Read Free Page A

his bonnet about the Old Kingdom, greatly exacerbated by the … mmm … event at Forwin Mill. It is possible that he might discover something useful from talking to you. So if you answer his questions, you shall have your Perimeter pass on Monday morning. If you’re still set on going, that is.’
    ‘I’ll cross the Wall,’ said Nick forcefully. ‘One way or another.’
    ‘Then I suggest it be my way. You know, your father wanted to be a painter when he was your age. He had talent too, according to old Menree. But our parents wouldn’t hear of it. A grave error, I think. Not that he hasn’t been a useful politician, and a great help to me. But his heart is elsewhere, and it is not possible to achieve greatness without a whole heart.’
    ‘So all I have to do is answer questions?’
    Edward sighed the sigh of an older and wiser man talking to a younger, inattentive, and impatient relative.
    ‘Well, you will have to appear a little bit at the party. Dinner and so forth. Croquet perhaps, or a row on the lake. Misdirection, as I said.’
    Nicholas took Edward’s hand and shook it firmly.
    ‘You are a splendid uncle, Uncle.’
    ‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled,’ said Edward. He glanced out the window. They were past the oak trees now, gravel crunching beneath the wheels as the car rolled up the drive to the front steps of the six-columned entrance. ‘We’ll drop you off, then, and I’ll see you Monday.’
    ‘Aren’t you staying here? For the house party?’
    ‘Don’t be silly! I can’t abide house parties of any kind. I’m staying at the Golden Sheaf. Excellent hotel, not too far away. I often go there to get through some serious confidential reading. Place has got its own golf course, too. Thought I might go round tomorrow. Enjoy yourself!’
    Nicholas hardly caught the last two words as his door was flung open and he was assisted out by Edward’s personal bodyguard. He blinked in the afternoon sunlight, no longer filtered through the smoked glass of the car’s windows. A few seconds later, his bags were deposited at his feet; then the Chief Minister’s cavalcade started up again and rolled down the drive as quickly as it had arrived, the Army trucks leaving considerable ruts in the gravel.
    ‘Mr Sayre?’
    Nicholas looked around. A top hatted footman was picking up his bags, but it was another man who had spoken. A balding, burly individual in a dark-blue suit, his hair cut so short it was practically a monkish tonsure. Everything about him said policeman, either active or recently retired.
    ‘Yes, I’m Nicholas Sayre.’
    ‘Welcome to Dorrance Hall, sir. My name is Hedge—
    ’ Nicholas recoiled from the offered hand and nearly fell over the footman. Even as he regained his balance, he realized that the man had said Hodge and then followed it up with a second syllable.
    Hodgeman. Not Hedge .
    Hedge the necromancer was finally, completely, and utterly dead. Lirael and the Disreputable Dog had defeated him, and Hedge had gone beyond the Ninth Gate. He couldn’t come back. Nick knew he was safe from him, but that knowledge was purely intellectual. Deep inside him, the name of Hedge was linked irrevocably with an almost primal fear. ‘Sorry,’ gasped Nick. He straightened up and shook the man’s hand. ‘Ankle gave way on me. You were saying?’
    ‘Hodgeman is my name. I am an assistant to Mr Dorrance. The other guests do not arrive till later, so Mr. Dorrance thought you might like a tour of the grounds.’
    ‘Um, certainly,’ replied Nick. He fought back a sudden urge to look around to see who might be listening and, as he started up the steps, resisted the temptation to slink from shadow to shadow just like a spy in a moving picture.
    ‘The house was originally built in the time of the last Trouin-Durville Pretender, about four hundred years ago, but little of the original structure remains. Most of the current house was built by Mr Dorrance’s grandfather. The best feature is the