The Sovereign Marshall sat quietly in his penthouse, brooding. Dali was now acceptably silent above him, so he could finally think.

He could feel he was getting older. It was time to set out once more for the Fountain. Ah yes, he thought, comforted. Once I can just get to the Fountain, everything will be all right again. I can do what I please with Dali and the others, everyone has forgotten them after one thousand years, after all.

He settled deeper into his chair. While he was enjoying himself, he might as well let Dali join in too.

“Dali?”

The figure dangling above barely stirred.

“I hate you.” The Marshall chuckled.

Oh yes, everything was going to be all right.

Suddenly the doors burst open, Judge Dench looking disheveled and worried.

“What is it?” the Marshall asked irately. Stop interrupting my fun.

“Your Sovereignty,” Dench gasped. “The Fountain.”