“If all you wanted was to become young again,” I said slowly, “there are any number of ways you could have become a young Alexander King. Not very nice ways, most of them, but that wouldn’t have stopped you. The Independent Agent, rejuvenated! Such things have been known to happen in our field. Rarely, and usually frowned upon, but not unknown. However, you didn’t do that. You couldn’t afford to do that. You’ve made too many enemies down the years, Alexander. Really powerful, really nasty enemies. You couldn’t kill all of them and put them on display. No, they’re out there, sensing weakness in your old age: jackals and vultures circling the dying lion.

“The only way you could hope to shake them off was by spreading rumours of your impending death, and then reappearing as your own grandson. Winning the game you set up would establish Peter King as a major player in his own right, and then you’d use the secrets gained from the contest as currency to get you back in the great game. You would become the new Independent Agent, with none of your old enemies any the wiser.”

“But why this desperate need for new secrets?” said Walker. “Why play the game at all? Unless . . .”

“Exactly,” said Alexander. “Knew you’d get there, in the end. There is no great hoard of hidden secrets. Hasn’t been for some time. There was once, along with whole vaults full of objects of power and forbidden weapons and the like. But I sold them all off, down the years, to fund my wonderfully extravagant lifestyle. One at a time and very discreetly, of course, but they all went. Sometimes I even sold things back to the very people I’d taken them from in the first place! Through a whole series of trusted intermediaries, of course; I couldn’t risk any rumours getting out. Oh, I get almost giddy, thinking of how clever I’ve been . . . The last few items went in payment for my new youthfulness. Can’t say I miss them. They were the past, and I must concentrate only on the future now.

“As befits a young man, with his whole life ahead of him.

“I shall be the new sensation of the age and astonish everyone! After I’ve blown up Place Gloria to establish Alexander’s death. And yours too, naturally. A pity to have to blow up the old place; it’s been good to me . . . But the world must believe the Independent Agent is dead, if the new one is to rise from his ashes. And you have to die so you can’t tell anyone what you know. Nothing personal; just business.”

“Wrong,” I said. “This is personal.”

“You don’t really think it’s going to be that easy, do you?” said Walker.

“Oh, yes . . . I think so,” said Alexander. “If you hadn’t found your way here so quickly, I was planning to lay out a trail of bread crumbs. I needed you to come find me on your own, without calling in reinforcements. How did you find me so quickly . . . ? No. It doesn’t matter. I haven’t got where I am today by worrying over unimportant details. You’re here, as I meant you to be. You know, you’re very easy to manipulate, Eddie. I just knew killing Honey right in front of you would make you so angry you’d come charging after me without bothering to bring in any more of your annoying family.”

“That’s it?” I said. “That’s why you killed Honey? Because of me?”

“Because of you, yes,” said Alexander. “No, Eddie! Not everything is about you! She had to die, just as all of you had to die. It’s necessary. My game, my outcome, and no one left to contradict me. I killed her because of me, Eddie. This has all been about me. Get used to it.”

“You really think you can take me in my armour?” I said. “I’ve fought evil organisations, Hungry Gods, and my own damned family and still come out on top, you stupid little turd. All of this, for your ego. You may be young again, Alexander, but you’re still just a man, and I’m a Drood.

“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.”