tilted his head curiously. “Scaramouch? Scaramouch Van Dreg? Is that you?”
Scaramouch smiled nastily. “Oh, yes. You have fallen into the clutches of your deadliest enemy.”
“What are you doing here?”
Scaramouch’s smile faltered. “What?”
“How are you mixed up in all this?”
“How am I …? What do you mean? This is my plot.”
“You’re plotting to use the Crystal of the Saints to bring the Faceless Ones back into our reality?”
Scaramouch frowned. “What? No. What do the Faceless Ones have to do with this? I don’t want the Faceless Ones back, I don’t even worship them. No, this plot is for me, to gain absolute power.”
“Then … you’re not in league with Rancid Fines or Christophe Nocturnal?”
“I’ve never even met Rancid Fines,” Scaramouch said, “and I hate Christophe Nocturnal.”
Pleasant absorbed this information with a nod. “In that case, I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.”
Scaramouch felt like he’d been punched in the gut. All the breath left him, and his shoulders slumped. “You mean, you’re not here for me?”
“Dreadfully sorry,” Pleasant said.
“But … but you arrived at the hotel. You and your partner, the girl. You were asking all those questions.”
“We were looking for Fines and Nocturnal. We didn’t even know you were in the country. To be honest, and I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but I thought you had passed away some time ago.”
Scaramouch gaped. “I just took a little break …”
Pleasant shrugged. “Well, at least now I know. So what are you up to these days?”
“I’m … I have plans,” Scaramouch said, dejected.
“The absolute power thing you mentioned?”
Scaramouch nodded.
“And how’s that going?”
“It’s going OK, I suppose. I mean, you know, everything’s on schedule and proceeding apace …”
“Well, that’s good. We all need something to get us up in the mornings, am I right? We all need goals.”
“Yeah.” An unwelcome thought seeped into Scaramouch’s mind and lingered there. He tried ignoring it but it flickered and swam, and finally he had to ask, “You don’t view me as your deadliest enemy, do you?”
Pleasant hesitated. His skull remained as impassive as ever, but this hesitation spoke volumes. “I view you as a deadly enemy,” he said helpfully.
“How deadly?”
“I don’t know … relatively?”
“Relatively deadly? That’s all? I thought we were arch-enemies.”
“Oh,” Pleasant said. “No, I wouldn’t call us arch-enemies. Nefarian Serpine was an arch-enemy. Mevolent, obviously. A few others.”
“But not us?”
“Not really …”
“Why? Is it because I’m not powerful enough?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then why? What’s so different between me and, say, Serpine?”
“Well,” said Pleasant, “Serpine had options. He was adaptable. Remember, the deadliest enemies are not necessarily the strongest, they’re the smartest.”
“So it’s because I’m not smart enough? But I am smart! I am highly intelligent!”
“OK,” Pleasant said in an understanding voice.
“Don’t patronise me!” Scaramouch snapped. “I have you as a prisoner, don’t I? You fell into my trap without even a hint of a suspicion!”
“It was a clever trap.”
“And those chains that bind your powers – you think that’s easy to do? You think that doesn’t require intelligence?”
“No, no,” Pleasant said, “I have to admit, you got me fair and square.”
“You’re damn right I did,” Scaramouch sneered. “And you don’t even know about my plot yet, do you? You don’t even know how intelligent that is.”
“Well, like I said, I’ve been busy—”
“Busy with Fines, and with Nocturnal, busy with the threat of the Faceless Ones – but you haven’t been busy with the real threat, have you?”
“I suppose not,” Pleasant said, and then added, “You mean you, don’t you?”
“Of course I mean me! I’ve been smart enough to fool you all into thinking I was dead. I’ve been smart enough to work under your radar, to set in motion events that will grant me absolute power, which will lead to my total dominion over this world! Now that, detective, that is smart!”
“Total dominion?”
“Oh, yes, skeleton. How does it feel to know that an opponent such as I, an adversary you would have classified as merely ‘relatively deadly’, will soon rule this planet with a will of iron, and a fist of …” He faltered. “ … iron.”
“Um …”
“What?”
“I was just going to say, have you really thought this through?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re talking about ruling the world, right?”
“Yes.”
“Not bringing back old gods, not turning the world into some new version of hell, not remaking it as you see fit …”
“Well, no.”
“You’re just talking about ruling it, then?”
“Yes. With a will of iron and a fist of iron.”
“Yes. And again, I’m compelled to ask – have you really thought this through?”
Scaramouch pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was getting a headache. He could feel it coming on. “What do you mean? What is so wrong with planning to rule the world?”
“Well, for a start,
