they’d found the time to practise all this before the funeral. Unless this was just something people in the family learned for special occasions. I used to know about things like that; maybe I had been away from the family for too long. The flying unicorns finished their display and fluttered down to the ground, to be replaced by a grand aerial procession of steam-powered autogyros, modernistic hellicars, and a whole bunch of brightly glowing flying saucers. I thought it all looked splendid.
The six chosen lab assistants carefully lowered the golden coffin to the ground before the Matriarch and the vicar and stepped back, surreptitiously massaging their aching shoulders. The vicar said a few last words, closed his Bible, and bowed his head. There was a pause. The Matriarch turned to me.
“Would you like to say a few words, Eddie?”
I looked at her, and then at the golden coffin. And at the bas-relief figure on the lid that didn’t look anything like Jack. I stepped forward and the family watched silently. I thought I knew what I wanted to say, but my throat just closed up and I couldn’t get the words out. In the end, all I could manage was “Good-bye, Uncle Jack.”
And then I just stood there, unable to say or do anything, until Molly came and took me by the arm again and led me gently away.
The Matriarch made a speech. All very nice, and very formal; nothing that mattered. I didn’t listen. And then we all looked round sharply as something exploded out of the artificial lake at the other end of the grounds. The Matriarch broke off, because no one was paying her any attention. We were all staring at the lake, where a great fountain had risen up out of the frothing, bubbling waters, sending huge ripples coursing across the disturbed surface. The fountain rose up and up, and then bent over suddenly and rained down onto the shoreline. It quickly formed into a pale blue human figure that strode forward across the lawns to join us.
As it drew nearer, it became clearer; the figure was a woman, made entirely from water. The outer shape remained solid, though its movements sent slow tides surging back and forth inside it. The family fell back, to allow her to approach the golden coffin. Up close, we could all see heavy drops of water dripping continuously from her chin, like tears. The Matriarch bowed to her respectfully, and we all followed suit. It isn’t often that the undine in the lake takes on human form and favours us with her presence.
“Jack Drood,” said the undine, in a soft, bubbling voice. “I was fond of him. He was kind to me.”
We all waited, but she had nothing more to say.
The ceremony continued. The Matriarch finished her speech, the vicar said a few last words, and the golden coffin disappeared quite suddenly. Leaving in its place a small golden urn.
“The urn contains Jack’s ashes,” I explained to Molly. “They’ll be scattered across the grounds, in some place that was special to him.”
“Are we supposed to . . . ?” said Molly.
“No,” I said. “The Armourer’s ashes are the responsibility of the next Armourer.”
Maxwell and Victoria came forward and picked up the urn between them. They both seemed surprised at how light it was. They turned to address the family.
“We will sprinkle the Armourer’s ashes among a particular copse of trees, down by the lake,” said Maxwell.
“He used to walk there with his wife, Clara,” said Victoria. “She has already been put to rest in that place, and now he gets to join her. So they can be together again, at last.”
I was a bit upset that I hadn’t known about that. It seemed to me that I should have known about something so important to Jack. But then, there was a lot about my uncle I didn’t know. I’d always known that.
“Droods have been put into the grounds of Drood Hall for centuries,” I said to Molly. “So we can become a part of the trees and the grass and the flowers. One way or another, none of us ever get to leave Drood Hall.”
The undine suddenly lost her shape and became a fountain again. People fell back as she blasted up into the air, arcing high across the Summer sky. She rained down onto her lake and disappeared back into the waters. Not leaving even a single ripple on the surface.
“She didn’t stay long,” said Molly.
“I’m surprised she