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yes,” Ghastly said. “No other agenda than that, he assured us. And please ignore the fact that he brought a small army of mages with him as bodyguards, an army that stands ready to act at a moment’s notice, or that we have a week to resolve this situation with the mortals or something unspecified will happen.”

       “Ah,” said Skulduggery. “An unspecified threat. The worst kind.”

      “Indeed,” said Ghastly. “Thank God we’re all friends, that’s all I can say. A more suspicious man than I might grow paranoid with all these foreign agents hanging around, especially with most of our own operatives spread out around the country to try and contain this magical outbreak. Why, if the Supreme Council got it into their little heads to launch an attack, we’d be completely defenceless.”

      “It’s a good thing we’re all friends, then,” Skulduggery murmured.

      “Indeed it is. So you see how finding this Argeddion person is suddenly very high up on our list of things to do and do quickly.”

      “Then we’ll get back to it,” Skulduggery said. “Oh, did you get that jacket I left in to be repaired?”

      Ghastly’s eyes narrowed. “I told you to be especially careful with that suit, didn’t I? I told you I was especially proud of my work on that suit. And what did you do? You wore it werewolf-hunting.”

      “I only did it to help you, Ghastly. I fear this job robs you of the simple pleasures of tailoring that you need to remain true to your roots.”

      “You’re so thoughtful.”

      Skulduggery doffed his hat. “Always thinking of others, that’s me.”

      They left Ghastly and headed for the main doors. Valkyrie chewed her lip a moment before asking, “Are we in danger?”

      “Constantly,” Skulduggery replied.

      “I mean from the Supreme Council.”

      He looked at her. “Why would we be in danger from them?”

      “Something Ravel said last year. If the other Sanctuaries try to take over, you and me would be the first people they’d kill.”

      “Ah, yes, because of our wonderful propensity for causing trouble.”

      “So? Are we in danger?”

      They passed a Cleaver standing guard. “I honestly don’t know,” Skulduggery said. “If they do want to take over, and I’m confident they do, there are different ways to go about it. If they had chosen a hostile takeover, then absolutely, one of their first moves would be to have us killed. But the route they appear to have chosen is far more insidious – they’re using logic and reason against us. The fiends.”

      “But they do want to take over?”

      “They’ve wanted to for some time now.”

      Valkyrie kept her voice down so passing sorcerers wouldn’t hear. “So do you think they’re behind this Argeddion stuff? If they wanted an excuse to stick their noses in, mortals turning magical would seem to be a great one.”

      “I don’t think so. This is far too uncontrollable. One mistake and magic is revealed to the world. That’s too much of a risk for them to take. No, I think they’re doing what every good invading force does – simply taking advantage of an obvious weakness.”

      “Do you think we’ll go to war with them?”

      “I hope not,” Skulduggery said. “War doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me.”

      “Detectives.”

      They turned as the Sanctuary Administrator approached.

      “There’s a woman here to see you,” Tipstaff said, “one Greta Dapple. She claims to be familiar with this person you’re looking for.”

      Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “She knows Argeddion?”

      “Knows him?” Tipstaff said. “From what she says, she used to date him.”

      reta Dapple was old. Valkyrie was used to old people – Skulduggery was somewhere over 400, after all – but very rarely did she meet someone who looked old. Greta had white hair, tied in a bun. She was small and frail and it was like she’d been left out in the sun too long. She sat in the interview room with her hands folded across her purse, and smiled at them when they entered.

      “Miss Dapple,” Skulduggery said, “thank you for coming in. We were told you know a man named Argeddion – is this true?”

      “Yes, it is,” Greta said, “although he was Walden D’Essai when I first met him. Lovely man. Had the kindest eyes I ever did see. We fell in love one summer. The kind of love you have to hold on to. But I didn’t, because I was young and I didn’t know any better. I’ve never regretted anything so much.”

      “Walden D’Essai,” Skulduggery murmured. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of him.”

      “I’m not surprised, Detective – aren’t the people you do hear of mostly criminals or terrorists or troublemakers? Walden was none of those things. He was a pacifist. He was so gentle, he’d never hurt another living thing. That’s what I loved about him most. He believed in the goodness of people. That’s probably what got him killed.”

      Valkyrie frowned. “He’s dead?”

      “Of course he is. Isn’t that why you want to talk to people who knew him? To solve his murder?”

      “That’s exactly it,” Skulduggery said. “We just want justice. Tell us what you know.”

      “Magic was never that strong with me,” said Greta. “I’ll be two hundred years old this week and I look one hundred. My magic has never been strong enough to slow my ageing to any great degree. Not that I have any cause to complain. I’ve lived twice as long as I should have, and I’m grateful for it. But Walden was strong, and he loved magic. Not in a bad way, though. He didn’t get like some people get – it wasn’t the power he loved. It was simply the magic. He said it was the most beautiful thing in existence. Well, actually, he said that I was the most beautiful thing in existence, but magic came a close second.” She chuckled and Valkyrie smiled.

      “When we weren’t together,” Greta continued, “he was studying. Reading. Researching. He went on vision quests, looking for answers. He wanted to find the source of magic – where it came from, how it worked. He wanted to know why Ireland was a Cradle of Magic, and Australia and Africa. He wanted to know if there were any other Cradles that we didn’t know about. Oh, the things he discovered. The secrets he learned.”

      Skulduggery tilted his head. “Did he happen to tell you any of these secrets?”

      Greta laughed. “A few. But it’s not my place to repeat them. These answers came to him after years of searching – you’ll forgive me if I don’t cheapen his achievements by simply blurting them out.”

      “Annoying,” Skulduggery said, “but completely understandable. Go on.”

      “Thank you. One of Walden’s overriding beliefs was that our true names are not actually the source of our magic, but rather they are directly connected to the source – it is through them that magic flows.”

      “Flows from where?”

      “He was never that specific, I’m afraid. He talked about the source as a place, but didn’t explain how it fitted into his theory. I suppose he would have, if I had asked, if I had even pretended to understand the things he got excited about. But as I said, I was young, and my mind

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