Live and Let Drood

always had a horror of inbreeding.
    “So, I left, or was driven out, depending on how you look at it. A rogue Drood. I became the Regent of Shadows, to put my beliefs into practice. An organisation of shadow agents, more concerned with amassing useful information than meddling in people’s lives. I adopted an impressive-sounding title because I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been a Drood, and because titles make people take you more seriously. To begin with, I made a point of recruiting people like myself, thrown out of other secret organisations for being wild cards, and I had a surprisingly high success rate with my choices.
    “I discovered later that Martha wanted the rest of the family told I was dead rather than admit to the shame…that her own husband would rather leave the Droods than admit she was right. She always was very single-minded. I went along. It wasn’t like I had any intention of ever going back, you see. It never even occurred to me that the leopards could change their golden spots. A lack of vision on my part, or perhaps my pride was hurt. When I learned how much you’d changed the Droods, Eddie, how much you achieved and how quickly, I couldn’t believe it.
    “Only the higher-ups in the family knew the truth about me, and they set out to rewrite Drood family history. I was written out, declared dead in 1957—don’t ask me why that date in particular—and all my triumphs and victories were given over to others. Not that I gave a damn…”
    “How could they just forget you?” said Molly.
    “The Heart,” I said. “The Matriarch had the Heart rework people’s memories through their torcs. Right?”
    “All the lower orders, yes,” said the Regent. “Martha let the higher-ups remember. As an object lesson.”
    “And that’s why Martha always said, We don’t talk about him! ” said Molly.
    “Because if they did, they might start remembering, now the Heart is gone,” said the Regent.
    “I remembered,” I said. “Perhaps because the Heart’s gone and the Hall’s gone…but I remembered meeting you that one time, when I was small. Watching you drink tea from your saucer…”
    “A bad habit,” the Regent said solemnly. “Don’t do it in polite company. People stare at you.” He stopped smiling, his eyes suddenly cold and faraway. “Even after you changed everything, Eddie…Martha still couldn’t bring herself to call me home. Perhaps because she’d remarried, perhaps because that would have meant she’d have to admit she’d been wrong all along.”
    “Hold it,” said Molly. I was thankful she was keeping up our end of the conversation; I was still finding it difficult to say anything. Molly stepped forward and fixed the Regent with a cold glare. “Martha was married to Alistair. So you must have divorced at some point.”
    “Of course,” said the Regent. “Martha did it the day she kicked me out. The Matriarch was in charge of everything in those days. Weddings have always been big celebrations in the family; divorces and separations, less so. We’re Droods. We don’t like to admit we can get it wrong. What was Alistair like? I never met the man.…I’ve read all the files, of course, but it’s not the same.”
    “Weak,” Molly said bluntly. “He was weak.”
    “But he stood up to be counted when it mattered,” I said. “He put his life on the line to defend Martha. Later he was killed and replaced by an Immortal. I killed the Immortal.”
    “I’m glad Martha found someone worthy of her,” said the Regent. “I never found anyone that could replace her. Thank you for avenging him, Eddie.”
    He stood up and came out from behind his desk. I stood up, though my legs were trembling. He came forward and embraced me and I held him tightly, as though afraid someone might try to take him away from me again. We held on to each other for a long while, while Molly stood to one side, looking on coldly. The Regent and I finally let go, stepped back and looked at each other.
    “Grandfather,” I said. “No wonder this place you made reminds me so much of home.”
    “And look at you, Eddie. All grown up. My boys James and Jack sent me photos of you, and files later on, when they could. They had to keep that secret, of course. Martha could never know. Or perhaps she did and just told herself she didn’t. She was always a great one for compartmentalising.…Once you came here to be a field agent in London, I kept an eye on you. From a safe distance.