“I sentence you to death, by my hand, for the murder of Honey Lake, the Blue Fairy, and Lethal Harmony of Kathmandu. And for the betrayal of your own legend. Because you were a great man once.”
My voice was so cold even Walker looked at me uneasily. Alexander lounged on his throne, still smiling. He held up his left hand to show me a simple clicker in the shape of a small golden frog.
“Recognise this, Eddie? A simple device created by your own family Armourer. Designed to shut down your armour and hold it inside your torc. An on/off switch whose whole purpose is to give someone else outside control over a Drood’s armour. Your uncle Jack felt it necessary to design such a thing to be sure no rogue Drood could use their armour for evil, as did Arnold Drood, the Bloody Man. He really did go bad, didn’t he? Who would have thought such a well brought-up Drood could do such terrible things?”
“I know about Arnold,” I said. “I killed him.”
Alexander looked at me. He hadn’t known that. He recovered quickly, brandishing the golden frog in my face. “I persuaded your uncle Jack to give me one of his duplicates. Partly so I could be there to take down a really bad Drood if he couldn’t, and partly in return for something he wanted so very badly that the family wouldn’t let him have.”
“Like what?” I said. “What could you possibly have that the whole Drood family couldn’t get for him?”
“The Merlin Glass,” said Alexander. “And if you knew why your dear old uncle Jack wanted it so badly . . . you’d shit yourself.”
I took a step forward, and he held up the golden frog admonishingly. “Ah-ah, Eddie! One little click, and your armour is trapped inside your collar, and then what will you do?”
I took another step forward. He frowned, confused. This wasn’t the scenario he’d written in his head for this occasion. He clicked the golden frog once with a large dramatic gesture. The small sound was very loud in the quiet. I subvocalised my activating Words, and my golden armour flowed out of my torc and covered me completely in a moment. Alexander King sat up straight on his throne, looking at me dumbly. He clicked the frog again and again, as though he could make it work through sheer vehemence. As though he could make my armour go away through sheer force of will. He opened his mouth to say something, to call for help or activate some hidden defence. I didn’t give him the chance. I lunged forward and punched him hard in the chest with my golden fist, crushing his heart. He slammed back against his throne, my right hand buried in his chest up to the golden wrist, and the last thing he saw with his dying eyes was his own horrified face reflected in the featureless golden face mask of a Drood.
I watched the light go out of his eyes. When I was sure he was dead, I leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “New torc,” I said. “New armour. Different rules. You really should have kept up-to-date, Alexander.”
Walker and I took our time, wandering back through the many trophied rooms and halls of Place Gloria. I’d already used my Sight to locate the hidden bomb and turn off the timing mechanism.
“I think I’ll take a good look around before I leave,” said Walker. “Bound to be something here I can use to get my Voice up and running again.”
“Can you do that?” I said. “With the Authorities gone?”
Walker smiled. “The Voice isn’t something the Authorities gave me, Eddie; it’s something they did to me. All I have to do is find the right power source, and I can recharge it. Just like the Portable Timeslip.”
“Be my guest,” I said. “I don’t want anything. Not from him.”
“What could he have that the Droods wouldn’t already have?” said Walker generously.
“Still,” I said. “Don’t take too long. When I leave, I’m resetting the timer on the bomb. So no one ever has to know about . . . all this. Alexander King was a good man in his time. A real legend. No one needs to know what he was like at the end. A scared old man, in an empty treasure house. Our field needs legends like the Independent Agent.”
“So he can inspire others to become rogue agents like you?” said Walker. “Standing alone and valiant against the corruption of established organisations?”
“Something like that,” I said.
Walker shook his head. “Heroes. Always more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Somebody has to keep the big boys honest,” I said.
Why be an agent? To protect the world from all the other agents.
EPILOGUE
Walker went back to the Nightside. I went home.
I told the Matriarch what happened. Made a full re-port. She just nodded. She did, after all, know Alexander King better than any of us.
I went to see the Armourer. I told him I killed the Independent Agent. He was pleased. He asked how I got on with all the new toys he’d given me: the Chameleon Codex, the Gemini Duplicator, the new skeleton key. I told him I hadn’t used any of them. I’d been so busy, I’d forgotten all about them.
His face went a colour not normally seen in nature, and I had to call some of his assistants to bring him a nice soothing drink.
And finally, I went home, to Molly. She was back in the wood between the worlds, back from her mission. We lay down on a grassy bank together. She didn’t tell me about her mission, and I didn’t tell her about mine. We just lay there, side by side, happy to be with each other again.
I never did tell her about Honey Lake. The woman I didn’t love, and who didn’t love me. Who died in my arms. But I will always remember her, and the time we had together, and how things might have gone differently, if only . . .
Shaman Bond
will return
in
FROM HELL WITH LOVE
Simon R. Green, The Spy Who Haunted Me
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