The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(11)
“Mr. Murray, how nice to see you again!” Charles pretended to be pleased but made no move to approach him. “You’ve arrived in time for tea; please sit down and join us, if you wish.”
The Master of Imagination put his device away in his coat pocket and, remaining where he was, studied Charles for a few seconds, smiling at him almost affectionately.
“You’re too kind, Professor, only I didn’t come here to drink tea with you.”
“Naturally, naturally,” Charles said, glancing uneasily at Wells and Jane, who were standing close to each other only a few yards from the hole, scarcely daring to move. “I—I imagine you came for your money. I—I’m aware the payment was due a fortnight ago, but we scientists are the most absentminded people on the planet,” he laughed, twisting the hem of his jacket between his fingers. “Although you were kind enough to remind me in your amiable and not in the slightest bit intimidating telegram, which makes my lateness all the more inexcusable . . . However, let us not dwell on that!” Dodgson declared excitedly. “As you can see, the m-magic hole is almost finished, and it is going make me extremely r-rich, so that I shall be able to pay you back double the amount you generously lent me. For any trouble I’ve caused—”
“Is that so?” Murray grinned from the doorway. “You are truly generous, Professor. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in your money.”
With that, he walked over to the shelves containing the pile of musical boxes, wearing a smile of feigned curiosity. Despite his heavy build, his movements were effortless and possessed an almost sensual elegance. Charles, struggling to overcome his bewilderment, watched Murray run his finger over the lids of a few of the boxes.
“Do you have any idea how much I am worth, Professor?” he asked, lifting the lid of an ebony box and setting off a jingle imported straight from childhood. He let the melody float in the air for a moment before imprisoning it once more. Then he looked at Dodgson, who shook his head. “You don’t? Neither do I: my fortune is incalculable.” He pressed his lips together with an air of disappointment. “And yet, even with an incalculable fortune, I am unable to have everything I want. Alas, there are many things I cannot buy. Can you imagine what they are, Professor? No, I see that you can’t . . . Perhaps that is because you have never needed them. I’m referring to dignity, admiration, respect . . .” Murray gave a chilling laugh while Charles contemplated him with mounting unease. “You look surprised, Professor . . . Perhaps you assume that a man in my profession wouldn’t care about such things. But you see, I do care, I care a great deal.” He sighed theatrically. “I’m tired of the hypocrisy of this world. You and countless others like you consume the drug I produce . . .” Dodgson and Wells exchanged worried looks. Like everyone else, they knew Murray had not amassed his fortune through being an antiques dealer, and yet, like everyone else, it suited them to pretend they didn’t. However, the cards were on the table now, and the Master of Imagination’s sudden display of honesty did not bode well. “The Church denounces me from its pulpits the world over,” Murray lamented, “and yet conveniently looks the other way, allowing my business to enjoy the necessary impunity. Indeed, it often does more than look the other way . . . But I’m fed up with being the Church’s scapegoat, and that of Cardinal Tucker and her entourage of putrid old fogies,” he declared in a sudden outburst of rage. “They need me because they desire the power I give them over the people, and the people need me because they desire the happiness I give them. And yet, to all of them I am undesirable! The devil incarnate! Ironic, don’t you think?” he asked them, putting on a sickly-sweet smile.
Wells swallowed hard. He no longer doubted that this scene was going to end badly for them, and yet he couldn’t help considering Murray’s impassioned speech with a sense of fascination, for what he had just said confirmed a surprising fact: the Church was covertly involved in the fairy dust industry. It was easy enough to go one step further and realize that the Church had devised a cunning plan to repress man’s imagination, the same way it had his capacity for love: it knew that preventing people from imagining would only make them want to imagine more, and so it had decided to make them doubt their capacity by creating a substance that artificially enhanced the imagination, and then making it illegal, so that it became at once fascinating and dangerous. Thus mankind had become addicted to fairy dust, convinced they needed it to be able to imagine, even though they had doubtless always possessed that gift. However, the Church still had to supply its devotees with the illegal substance, for it didn’t wish to eradicate entirely that quality in man, which, like love, could lead to Knowledge. Only in order to reap the benefits without losing control over its subjects, the Church had to transform it into a sordid, clandestine addiction. And that was where Murray, the Master of Imagination, came in: by having him traffic in the illegal substance, the Church remained untarnished. Murray wasn’t the first to have played that reviled but necessary role. The Church had produced other shadowy figures embodying everything that was despicable about the world, for each new generation. But it seemed Murray was to be the first to rebel against his fate.
“I’m tired of doing the dirty work for that bunch of old busybodies,” Murray went on, “while they go around pretending to despise me. I’ve had enough of grinding up fairies with my pestle and mortar so the world can go on imagining.” He gave an embittered laugh. “I don’t want to continue being the Master of Imagination. I don’t want to be remembered as the villain of the story when I die. No, I can think of a far better sobriquet. I want to be remembered as the Savior of Humanity! Could there be any greater achievement?” He grinned, his eyes moving from Dodgson to Wells, then back to Dodgson. “So, Professor, despite all your wisdom, you are a complete fool if you think I am simply going to accept your money and discreetly step aside so that you can take all the glory. That’s not how the story is going to unfold.”