Doctor Who: Lungbarrow (16 page)

Glospin backed away as it hovered closer to him.

'No!' Chris heard himself shout.

The box drove straight at Glospin. There was a cold, white flash.

***

As his senses levelled, he could still hear the arguing. There was no love lost between the Doctor and Glospin.

66

'What do you mean, did I come down the chimney?' snapped the Doctor. 'How do you think I got in? I let myself in at the front door.'

'Really?' retorted Glospin and started to laugh. 'As far as the House is concerned you were cast out long ago. . .

Doctor!
'

'And from the ramshackle look of the place, it's gone into terminal decline without me.'

'You'd better ask Satthralope about that.'

'So she is still Housekeeper. The old harridan could never let go of anything, could she? Even if the House has gone to rack and ruin around her. Who's Kithriarch now? I thought you had your sights on the inheritance.'

'Satthralope wil tell you.'

'Oh, no. Not if I can help it.' The Doctor's tone level ed to that familiar goading superiority he reserved for his nastiest opponents, usual y just prior to wrecking their plans of Universal domination. 'So you missed out on your inheritance too, did you? What a pity. After al that effort to get me out of the way. And now you're stuck in a samovar! Let me guess who shut you in there. Just the sort of mealy-mouthed punishment Satthralope would dish out. Even to her favourite!'

'How old are you now, Wormhole?' asked Glospin. 'You realize it's six hundred and seventy-three years since we last met - to the day.'

'Ah, how quickly Otherstide comes round,' the Doctor mused. 'And I haven't brought you a present.'

'You were always old for your age.' Glospin's sneer turned into another laugh. 'Of course.
Otherstide
. Your name day fell on Otherstide, didn't it? How could I forget that? You must be at least -'

'Mind your own business and four-quarters.'

'Well, felicitations, Cousin. And I haven't bought you a present either.'

'I've never made a fuss about anniversaries,' said the Doctor. 'How old are you?'

'One thousand seven hundred and eleven.
Three
generations.'

The Doctor was silent for a long moment. 'Careful living,' he said, but his voice was flat and downbeat.

'
I
didn't have a choice,' Glospin said. 'You look pretty wel worn. I'd reckon you're on five or six generations at least.

You've been living too fast.'

'Chris,' hissed the Doctor. 'We're going.'

Chris hauled himself up and started back along the passage.

'He's not going to let me out,' called Glospin. 'What a way to treat an older Cousin.'

'Let him go, Doctor,' said Chris firmly. 'Because if you won't, I will.'

The Doctor looked extremely hurt. For a moment he and Chris held each other's stare. Then he walked to the stove and began to pick at the latch. After a moment, he took off his shoe and hit the cross-bolt hard.

'Don't do that!' shouted Glospin. 'Stop it! Stop it! It's heating up!'

Chris saw a row of flames in the base of the stove. 'Doctor, get him out! He'l be roasted alive!'

'Say please, Glospin,' said the Doctor.

Inside the stove's oven, Glospin began to scream.

67

'Please?' repeated the Doctor.

'Doctor!' yel ed Chris. 'Please!'

The Doctor grabbed the rusty kettle off the top of the stove and emptied the brackish water over the flames.

There was a hiss of steam.

They could hear Glospin gasping inside.

The Doctor produced a metal instrument from his pocket and set it to the latch. There was a slight
vum
noise and the whole front of the stove swung open. Glospin shot out sideways as if he had been kicked. He landed on the tiled floor in a heap. Smoke drifted out of his clothes.

'Osirian bottleopener,' said the Doctor coldly. 'Satisfied?'

'Thank you,' said Chris.

'Let's go.'

The stove slammed its oven door in frustration.

Chris ignored the Doctor and crouched by Glospin. In Earth terms, the Cousin now looked to be in his late thirties.

His once coarse black hair was now brown and curling. It fell thickly to his shoulders, framing a handsome, but thin white face. A red-brown scar on one pale hand extended up his arm.

'He's hurt, Doctor,' Chris said.

Glospin pulled back his hand. 'That happened a long time ago.' He glared up accusingly at the Doctor. 'It's never healed properly.'

The Doctor ruminated for a moment. 'Bring him,' he said. He turned and walked away up the passage. 'I want to be away from here before daybreak.'

'What daybreak?' said Glospin as he laboured to stand up. He looked after the Doctor and began to laugh out loud.

68

Black Window

Cousin Innocet was crossing the galleries above the Hall when she heard the voices. They were arguing pugnaciously. The House's great chamber had properties to enhance and amplify the quietest whisper, but Lungbarrow had so many echoes of its own, and thoughts that posed as echoes, that it was often difficult to identify the source. That was what had taught her to move silently in the House. A sudden movement in a quiet place could set off a host of echoes, scattering like a blue-brown flock of raucous blossom thieves startled from the orchards in spring.

The echoes came up from the direction of the old conservatory. As she passed by one of the hearth-rooms, she heard another familiar voice.

'It's my turn,' it complained. 'If you don't let me have a go, I'll tell Innocet.'

Innocet, thus invoked, pushed open the door.

'Owis?' she said sharply. What are you doing?'

Owis looked up startled from his position by the huge fireplace. He tried to stuff some morsel into his pocket. 'I didn't do it,' he protested.

'Who's that with you?' she said.

A pair of feet were sticking out of the fireplace. She moved closer and saw that his filthy trousers were made of stitched shrew skins.

'It's Maljamin,' said Owis. 'He won't let me have a look up the chimney. He won't even talk to me.'

Innocet knelt beside the hearth. A sense of relief washed over her. 'I thought we'd lost him,' she said. She peered into the depths of the fireplace and called gently, 'Maljamin. Time to come out of there.'

There was a grunt from inside. One foot raised and repeatedly scratched the other leg in a circular motion like that of a animal.

'Come on,' she said firmly. 'I'll take you home now.'

The scratching stopped and Cousin Maljamin slowly slid out from the chimney-piece. He was caked in black dust and his eyes were staring white. 'The sky is bright today,' he said. 'I can see the blue.'

She sighed. There was no crime in this. There had been times, when there were many more Cousins around the House, that she had waited in line with the rest of them to stare up at the distant sky. But it always reminded her of looking through the wrong end of a spyglass.

Maljamin stood slowly rocking and making little groaning noises. His nose wrinkled and twitched in a shrewish fashion.

'My go,' said Owis, and he started to climb into the fireplace.

'No!' Innocet pulled him back. 'You take Cousin Maljamin back to my room.'

'That's not fair,' said Owis. 'I want my go.'

'What have you done with my rations?' she said.

'What rations?' He held up his half-gnawed shrew. 'This is mine. I found it.'

69

'In one of Rynde's traps?' she said. 'How disgusting. How can you eat that uncooked? You've already had my rations too.'

Owis clutched his food tightly as Maljamin tried to paw at it. 'I never touched your gruel,' he said.

'Jobiska told me…' said Innocet.

'I didn't do it. She's lying again.'

'Jobiska's an old body and deserves your respect,' Innocet reminded him. But she remembered a dribble of brown gravy down Jobiska's chin and decided that a failing memory did not always diminish an old person's grasp on the skills of deceitfulness. Besides, she was more relieved than angry to find Owis and Maljamin too. Not that she was prepared to admit it.

'Have you come out to find me just for that?' The wretched boy looked almost flattered.

'Of course not,' she said sharply. She suddenly realized that Maljamin was wandering towards the door.

She hurried after him and guided him gently back.

'Take Maljamin back to my room,' she instructed Owis.

'And don't let him go, whatever happens. I have to find Arkhew. It'll soon be candleday.'

'Can't we wait?' Owis said. 'Or do we have to find him before the House stops being disturbed?'

'Do as you're told, Owis, or I'll report you to the Drudges. It's al your fault anyway. So just look after Maljamin.'

'What for?' he complained. 'What's my fault?'

'Oh, anything!' she said and headed towards the stairs.

***

Glospin, under Chris's escort, made no attempt to escape. He watched the Doctor all the time. He even seemed eager to keep up with his tormentor.

The Doctor stooped to look at the large amount of freshly broken timber that was strewn across the floor. He peered up at the tangled canopy of dust webs that hid the ceiling.

'Chris,' he mumbled and pointed up.

In one swathe of web, high out of reach, a dark oblong shape was hanging, where it had been caught in mid-plummet.

Chris exclaimed, 'It's the TARDI-'

'Shush!' hissed the Doctor. 'Strange place to hang a... wardrobe.'

Glospin stared up at the shape. A broad grin spread across his face. 'A TARDIS,' he said. 'It's a TT capsule.'

Chris yanked his arm behind him. 'None of your business!'

Glospin was laughing again. 'So that's how you got in. Very clever! And it's also a way out!'

'Way out?' the Doctor said. 'What "way out"? You need to get out a bit more yourself, Glospin. You and this place are pale shadows of your former nasty selves. I don't even want to know what's happened to you and your brood.

70

Something horrible, no doubt. I don't really care. It's no longer my business. I have better things to do.'

Chris pul ed him aside. 'Doctor, I think you should lay off a bit.'

'Why? There's nothing here for me. That's always been plain.' He tugged himself free and set off towards the far end of the Hall.

Two distant lamps threw a pool of light around the raised stone bier and the translucent casket that rested on top of it.

'He was always like that,' said Glospin. 'Always switching moods like this or like that... or like the other.'

Chris hurried after the Doctor. The little figure had slowed and final y stopped a few feet from the bier. There was a figure lying silhouetted inside the glass coffin. The Doctor stood, head bowed, for a moment and then walked solemnly up to the casket.

'Quences,' he said as he peered over the top of the bier at the figure.

Chris waited awkwardly, watching Glospin, until the Doctor turned and beckoned him over.

'Chris, you know, don't you?' he said quietly.

'Yes, Doctor. I told you. This is your home.'

The Doctor sighed. 'Yes. This is my home - the ancient House of Lungbarrow in the Southern Ranges of Gallifrey, where I grew up. A wild and beautiful setting for the worst place in the Universe.' He gestured at the coffin. 'And this was Ordinal-General Quencessetianobayolocaturgrathadadeyyilungbarrowmas, to give him his full title and decoration. He was the head of the Family and my benefactor.'

Chris came closer and studied the old man in the coffin. Quences appeared serenely peaceful as he lay in state.

There were fresh flowers laid on his chest, roses with petals like grey silk. Droplets of fresh dew clung to the petals. Chris could see no immediately apparent signs of the brutal murder the old man had suffered.

The Doctor turned to Glospin. 'How long?' he said. 'Why is he still so well preserved?'

'Six hundred and seventy-three years,' said Glospin. 'To the day.'

The Doctor squatted to examine a small panel at the base of the bier.

71

'How did he die?' asked Chris.

Glospin raised an eyebrow.

'He's not dead,' said the Doctor. He tapped the panel. 'This is a static field generator.'

'Very good,' said Glospin. 'The Kithriarch is waiting in stasis.'

'Waiting? Why would he be waiting? What for?'

'You,' said Glospin. He turned to Chris. 'The
Doctor
is six hundred and seventy-three years late for Quences's deathday. The poor old man refused to read his own wil until his favourite was here. The whole Family has been kept waiting al that time.'

To Chris's surprise, the Doctor smiled at Glospin. 'That's not my problem, Cousin. As I recall, you were at pains to stop me from coming. No doubt, you were worried about what you'd miss out on. Though I can't imagine why. The Ordinal-General cast me out and disinherited me long ago.'