Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA Read Free

hand on her arm and squeezed it hard. She smiled at the Sarjeant in a way that clearly said,
Later . . .
Anyone else would have started running right there.
    “The Matriarch is waiting to see you,” said the Sarjeant. “In her new private office.”
    I had to raise an eyebrow at that. “Not in the Sanctity? But that’s the most secure and most private place in the Hall. And anyway, it’s traditional! Cut a Drood, and we bleed tradition.”
    “Normally, yes,” the Sarjeant said stiffly. “But we have always understood the necessity of adapting to changing conditions.”
    I looked at him for a long moment. “What conditions are we talking about? What’s changed?”
    “Every new Matriarch must make her own way,” the Sarjeant said steadily. “Margaret has decided not to use the Sanctity.”
    “How many of the family Council will be attending this meeting?” I said.
    “Their advice will not be needed,” said the Sarjeant. “This is just a private chat, in the Matriarch’s private office.”
    I finally got the implication. “You mean, away from Ethel? Doesn’t the Matriarch trust our gracious other-dimensional benefactor any more?”
    “I don’t think the Matriarch trusts anyone,” said the Sarjeant. “Which is, after all, as it should be.”
    Molly was shaking her head. “You people have raised paranoia to an art form.”
    “Thank you,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.
    “I thought Ethel could hear everything that goes on inside the Hall,” I said.
    “Not necessarily,” said the Sarjeant. Which was . . . interesting.
    He led the way through the ground floor, and everyone hurried to give us plenty of room. I might have a bad reputation, but he was the one they had to live with every day. And Molly was scowling, in a thoughtful sort of way, which is never a good sign. The Matriarch’s new private office turned out to be in a remote corner of the ground floor, well away from the general traffic. The Sarjeant knocked politely, and the door swung open before him. He gestured for me to go in. I smiled, and waved for him to go first. Never trust a Drood Sarjeant-at-Arms at your back. He nodded, as though he quite understood what I was thinking and approved, and led the way. I strolled in after him with my nose in the air, doing my best to give the impression I was doing everyone a favour just by turning up. Molly stuck close to my side. More like a bodyguard than a lover.
    The Matriarch had filled her new office with more flowers, blooms, and unusual vegetation than any normal person should have felt comfortable with. Thick grass carpeted the floor, and the walls were covered with heavy mats of creeping vines. Bright colours rioted to every side, and rich scents steeped the air. It felt more like a jungle than a garden. I kept wanting to look around for predators. The Matriarch was sitting behind a very ordinary desk, her face calm and implacable. Molly andI sat down on the chairs facing her, without waiting to be asked, while the Sarjeant-at-Arms stood to one side. Because he didn’t do normal things like sitting. People might think he was getting soft.
    I glared around the office, in a way I hoped suggested that everything should keep its distance and know its place. I don’t approve of familiarity from the plant world. It was all very impressive, but I would have hated to be the Drood in charge of keeping everything watered. I finally nodded familiarly to the Matriarch.
    “Missing your old job as head gardener, Maggie?”
    “You have no idea,” the Matriarch said in her usual no-nonsense voice. “I never wanted to be Matriarch, but if I have to run this family, I’ll do it in a way I can live with. If I can’t be in the gardens, I’ll bring the garden inside. Now, we need to talk. Something has happened that needs stamping on right now.”
    I looked the Matriarch over carefully. She’d gone in for a serious makeover since I last saw her. A dark blue power suit of almost brutal style and