“Are you ready?” said the Walrus.

Sir John glanced at Marie, Morag and Miss Henderson. Marie nodded lightly.

“I believe so,” said Sir John as a small fish passed in front of his face.

“Then we’ll begin,” said the Walrus.

She doesn’t need you, John. She hasn’t needed you for a while now. She’s more powerful than you. She had found out more with her wits than you have with your clever toys. Even as we speak she learns more and more about who she is and what she can do. How long before she leaves? How long before she finds people, creatures, beings that she does need?

And what will you do then? Lick your wounds and fly home? Build more pointless machines? Look for phantasms that you’ll never find? For if she doesn’t need you, then no one will.

“Mon cher?” said Maire, looking at her husband, her brow furrowed. “Mon cher, are you alright? What was said, mon cher? I didn’t hear.”

Why do you think she’s dead, Marie? You never had proof except from an aunt who lied to you. How do you know she didn’t lie about your mother? Or is it easier for you to believe she is dead? After all, running away is what you do, isn’t it?…is what you always did. Is it easier to run from the possibility of your mother than to search for her? Is it easier to believe there is no family at all anywhere? That you, with all your powers, couldn’t find a family if they did exist? Have you really come to Paris to find who you are, or are you just running again from who you’ve become?

“They’re catatonic,” hissed Morag, “What did it say to them to do that?”

And why do you think he’s dead, Morag? Your father stuck by you for centuries, made sure you were safe. He dragged your soul from death, even in the wrong body. He tortured himself every day for that mistake. He worked tirelessly to create the stone to liberate you both or keep you alive until he could. And then when he vanished, magically, you forgot about him. You didn’t try to see if anything had happened, not one operation, not one conjuration to see if he was alive. Was it such a relief for him to be gone, after all he did, that you turned your tail and walked away?

“Morag?” said Miss Henderson. “Marie? Sir John? What… what’s happened to you?”

He can never marry you, Felicity. No matter how much he loves you or you love him, you can never be man and wife. How could you be? Your family are criminals and he is a policeman, a detective even. How would that work? What would the wedding be like? At least there would be no need for introductions as the left aisle has likely been arrested by the right. If you were to marry, what would happen to you both? He would be rejected by your family, suspected at work. He’d have to leave the job he loves and he would come to resent you for that. And you, how would you feel about your family, or them about you? You could be ostracised, you could be abandoned. It is impossible to see how you could be together.

A tear slowly trickled down Miss Henderson’s cheek and she looked down.

“That…” she said, “that would be a very sad thing, because in truth, I like him very, very much and I think he likes me and I think together, just us, we could be very happy. But if what you say were true… if that were true…”

She looked up at the Walrus and stuck her trembling chin out.

“There are plenty more fish in the sea.” she said.

The Walrus smiled and the aquarium vanished. Miss Henderson stood in the gloom with her three companions. She wiped the tear with a clenched fist.

The door to the old aquarium burst open and Clackprattle and Pook walked in.

“Another fine Parisien location,” said Clackprattle. “Truly we have seen the sorry arse of this sorry city. Are you sure there is something here, Pook? This isn’t another wild goose chase?”

“Indeed, I believe we have found something of true value here,” said Pook. “The bug couldn’t or didn’t go inside but went right up to the door which means…”

The door slammed suddenly.

“That the door probably slammed shut on it,” said Pook.

The darkened corridor seemed to turn from black gloom to blue glow. Tiny lights appeared that resolved into fish shapes.

“I think I’m seeing things in this blasted dark,” said Clackprattle and swatted at things in front of his face. Pook saw a shape forming down the corridor and moving towards them. Presently, it resolved form.

“The avatar of the water key, I presume?” said Pook to the gigantic ghost walrus.

The walrus nodded gracefully in the air.

“Indeed,” he said, “and you are?”

“Clackprattle and Pook sir,” said Clackprattle. “Master and servant, here to take the challenge, here to claim our just reward.”

“Which is which?” said the Walrus.

“I am Clackprattle,” said Clackprattle, “and this is….”

“No, who is master and who is servant?” said the Walrus.

“Why you impertinent swine,” said Clackprattle. “If you knew who you were dealing with you’d show some respect.”

“Excellent advice,” said the Walrus.

“Do I assume from your presence that the key part has not yet been claimed?” said Pook. “That we are, as they say, still in with a chance?”

“Indeed, I still possess the key part, and you may take the challenge,” said the Walrus. “I would advise a note of caution… powerful emotions may be released. Are you sure you are up to the task?”

Clackprattle scoffed.

“I think sir it will take more than a few little feelings to disturb my temperament. I am a man of unusual emotional fortitude,” he said.

“On that note I believe you,” said the Walrus. “If you wish to proceed you may go first.”

Clackprattle rolled his eyes and nodded and…

You’ve spent your whole life as a joke and you know it. A stupid man, too proud to learn, your so-called wisdoms are the guessworks of a moron. Since you are too fragile to live without the respect of others, you have bullied your way to power. But the respect you seek, you will never receive. All you can gift to others is fear, and in return loathing and contempt is your reward. At the end even your greatest servant plays you for a fool. Your grand attempt at grabbing power has left you grasping thin air – an emperor not only without clothes but also without an empire.

Clackprattle stared vacantly into space.

“What did you say?” said Pook, in an agitated manner, “I couldn’t hear? What did you do to him?”

And you, little pookah, think you’ve played such a grand game. From your little hedge magics and tricks to being here in Paris with the great and the grand. And how proud you are of having this fat buffoon on your puppet strings. But you forget little one the puppet strings that bind you and move you. You forget that when you plot to cut the strings you pull, the one above may do the same. Or do you believe your ultimate master will show you the mercy you will not show to your toy?

Pook stared in front of himself too, lost to the world. The corridor went dark again, and the ghosts disappeared like smoke. The door swung open, leaving the duo staring vacantly into the dark, damp, rotten building.

 

Ghost Aquarium

Ghost Walrus