Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 1 - 3. Derek Landy

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      “Yes, we had better. Was it painful, though? Losing your flesh?”

      “I, uh, I don’t mean to be rude, Oisin, but aren’t you the one supposed to be answering questions? Not asking them?”

      Oisin laughed. “I admit, I’m a little too curious for my own good. On the other hand, I do have an in-depth knowledge of the Stories of the Ancients, so in many ways, I’m the ideal candidate. Better suited to this than my colleagues, believe me. Before we get started, could I ask what century this is?”

      “The twenty-first,” Stephanie said.

      “Twenty-first?” he repeated, laughing with delight. “Oh, my! So this is what the future looks like, eh? Kind of… gloomy and cluttered. I always thought it’d be brighter, you know? So what’s been happening in the world?”

      “You… you want us to tell you everything you missed?”

      “Well, not everything. Just the high points. What language am I speaking, by the way?”

      Stephanie frowned. “English.”

      “English, eh? Marvellous. I’ve never spoken English before. How does it sound?”

      “Uh, fine, I suppose. Does the stone translate what you’re saying?”

      “Yes, it does. I could have used something like this on my travels, I’ll tell you that much. It would have really impressed the ladies!” He started to chuckle, then stopped. “Not that I travelled far. Or at all. I don’t trust boats, you see. If nature had intended us to travel across water, we would have been provided with fins.”

      “Can we ask you a question?” Skulduggery asked. “Again, I don’t want to be rude, but if the Stone runs out of power before we learn what we need…”

      The old man clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Of course, my boy! Say no more! Ask me your first question!”

      “You’re an expert on the Ancients?”

      “Yes, I am. I’m the one charged with the task of documenting their existence. It’s a great honour, even if it does leave me with precious little time to travel. Not that I would, even if I could. But it’d be nice to have options, you know?”

      “Yes… Anyway, we need to know about the Sceptre. We need to know its power.”

      Oisin nodded. “The Sceptre of the Ancients was created to destroy and destroy it does. There is nothing that will not crumble to dust under its glare.”

      “Is there any kind of defence against it?”

      Oisin shook his head. “No shield, no spell, no barrier. It can’t be stopped and it can’t be destroyed.”

      “What about its power source?” Stephanie asked.

      “A single crystal, a black crystal, embedded in its hilt, capable of channelling the energy that’s poured into it.”

      “And can the crystal be destroyed?”

      Oisin gave a little frown. “I’ve thought about this, actually. I know more about the Sceptre than anyone else since the time of the, Ancients, certainly more than any of my colleagues, and while there is no record of a weakness, we have translations of texts that suggest the crystal can be destroyed from within.”

      “How?” Stephanie asked.

      “I, um… I don’t really know.”

      “Who created the Sceptre?” Skulduggery asked.

      Oisin puffed out his chest. “‘The Sceptre was created by the Ancients as a weapon to be used against their gods. For one year they toiled, out of sight and in darkness, so that the gods could not see what they were creating.’”

      His chest deflated and he smiled. “That’s a direct quote from one of the first texts we found. I found it, actually. The others were so jealous. That’s probably why they didn’t want me to be the one to answer your questions.”

      Stephanie frowned. “You’re not supposed to be here?”

      “We had a vote. I voted for me. No one else did. They’re just jealous. They said I’d waste time, talk too much. So I stole the stone and went away for a few days to imprint it with my consciousness. They can’t imprint anything over it, you see. And now here I am.” He beamed, then his whole body faded, became suddenly transparent, and his beaming smile vanished. “Ah. Time seems to be running out. If you have any more questions…”

      “Who created the crystal?” Skulduggery asked quickly.

      “Well, if you’ll allow me to quote from the text that I discovered: ‘The Faceless Ones created the crystal and the crystal sang to the Faceless Ones when an enemy neared. But when the Ancients approached the crystal was silent, and it did not sing to the Faceless Ones, and the Faceless Ones did not know it was taken.’”

      “So their security system had a blind spot,” Stephanie said.

      “It looks that way,” Oisin said, nodding. His image grew even fainter, and he held up a hand and gazed through it. “This is sort of unnerving.”

      “The Sceptre has returned,” Skulduggery said.

      Oisin looked up. “What?”

      “It was uncovered recently, then hidden again. We need to know how to find it.”

      “Oh my,” Oisin said. “If the wrong sort of person takes possession of the Sceptre…”

      “It’ll be bad, we know. Oisin, how do we find it?”

      The old man vanished for a moment, then flickered back into sight. “I don’t know, dear boy. Who hid it?”

      “My uncle,” Stephanie said. “He realised it was too powerful for anyone to own.”

      “A wise man, it seems. Of course, a truly wise man would return it to the place he found it. Failing that, somewhere similar.”

      Skulduggery straightened. “Of course.”

      A smile popped up on Oisin’s face. “Have I helped you?”

      “You have. I know where it is. Thank you, Oisin.”

      Oisin nodded proudly. “I knew I could do this. I knew I could answer questions and not talk too much. That’s what I told them, right before they called for a vote, I said, listen, I can—”

      And he vanished and the Echo Stone stopped glowing.

      Stephanie looked at Skulduggery. “Well?”

      “Gordon followed the example of the Last of the Ancients, and buried the Sceptre deep within the earth. It’s in the caves.”

      “What caves?”

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