The Walker

11 years ago...

Walker stretched as he took his seat at the bar. The lad was off scouring the small market nearby, and would be back shortly. For now, he had whiskey as his sole companion, which was fine.

The lad was nearing the end of what Walker could teach him, making them almost equals, but Walker saw no reason they couldn’t continue to travel together; he had grown to enjoy his company. The boy still had some way to go, he thought as he quietly sipped at his whiskey, but who knew everything at his age? Michael, possibly, he mused, rubbing at the rough bristles on his chin.

The lad was fully grown, cheeky, arrogant and devious, but charming, with the intellect to match. Walker smiled to himself. Almost like looking into a mirror.

He was about to finish his drink, when someone sat next to him. “The man himself,” Walker murmured.

Michael smiled softly and held up a finger, signalling for a whiskey. “Do you...?”

Walker shrugged and drank the last of his whiskey. “If you’re buying.”

Michael nodded and held up a second finger. The bartender retrieved a bottle and began to pour two glasses. “Leave the bottle,” the waiter nodded, and Michael continued, “So, Richard.”

Walker smiled to himself. “Call me Dick, Michael. You’re the only one allowed, may as well make the most of it.”

Michael frowned , eyes hidden behind his dark visor. “What are you doing around here,” he paused on the unsavoury nickname, “Dick?”

Walker sipped the fresh glass the waiter had left, and looked at Michael, his eyes also hidden beneath his own silvery visor. “Just travelling through, chum,” Michael flinched at the informality, “Just travelling through.”

Michael sipped his own drink, slender fingers gripping the glass from below. “What is it you do these days, Richard?”

Walker shrugged. “This and that. Whatever I can. I get by.” He sipped again. “Don’t worry; I’m not considering becoming a mercenary, or a private eye, or anything like that.”

The two men chuckled briefly, and sunk back into uncomfortable silence. Michael downed his whiskey and turned to Walker slightly.

“I know you have books, Richard. I know the Walkers are still operating.”

Walker paused, thinking. Of course Michael knew, he always knew. “Nothing gets past you, eh Mike?”

Michael ignored the informality. “Indeed. In fact, they made me Servile Philosopher for it.”

Walker scowled briefly. How had he missed that? Out loud, he said, “Well done. So I assume you’re here to arrest me, part of your duties?”

Michael smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, Richard, that was five years ago. I’m not the Servile Philosopher anymore.”

Walker eyed him warily.

Michael continued. “I’m the Librarian now.”

Walker coughed up the whiskey he’d been drinking, spraying it on to the bar. There were some sour murmurs from the collected drinkers, but they stopped as Michael turned sharply.

“I know what you’ve been doing. Unlawfully withholding books, slowing the process down. And training that boy, teaching him our ways.”

Walker stopped coughing and looked at Michael. His friend had always been slight, and too pale, but his new black cloak rendered him paler still, and made his cheeks look gaunt; his face appeared as though chiselled from blunt rock.

“I will let you go. Find somewhere safe to leave the books. There’s an abandoned farmhouse up the road. We won’t have to hurt anyone that way.”

Walker swirled his whiskey slightly, “And the boy?”

Michael sighed and sipped again at his drink. “If there were a way for him to forget what you have taught him...” he finished his whiskey.

Walker stared down into his glass.

Michael nodded once. “I’m afraid it’s the only way, Richard. Do all that I have said and we will leave you alone, I promise you. But fail, that is, keep the books and the boy, and I cannot help you.” He pointed to Walker, “Get rid of the boy, let him go and teach him no more. Hopefully he will become a mercenary, and forget any... foolishness you have put in his head.”

He lowered his hand. “Goodbye Richard. Hopefully we never see each other again.”

He stood up and flicked some coins onto the counter, leaving Walker at the bar. He strode outside, people moving aside as he went.

Walker watched him go and turned back to his glass. He sighed and drained his drink, refilling it with the bottle Michael had left behind.

He sat alone, pondering gloomily, rubbing at his chin as the bar chattered inconsequentially around him, oblivious to the darkness behind his visor.