'And while you apply your abundant mind to that dilemma, you and Rynde can carry our young visitor to somewhere more private.' He kicked Chris. 'I've got a few questions I've been saving up.'

'Wait a moment,' said Rynde. 'This one's mine.'

'This one,' said Glospin, pointing to Chris, 'is our way out. So keep your culinary fantasies to yourself.'

'He's mine.'

'He's no good to anyone par-braised and garnished.'

'Mine.'

Glospin produced some dice. 'Best of one.'

'Done.'

They crooked fingers over Chris's body. Owis raised a tentative hand. 'But if my predecessor's come back, what happens to me?'

'You?' Glospin smirked. 'What d'you think, Rynde? Cooked or raw?'

'Hung for a candleweek,' suggested Rynde. He poked Owis's stomach. 'Then smoked slowly over a citric fire to reduce the fat. There's enough there to last us a year.'

'Yike,' said Owis and shut up quickly. Glospin and Rynde threw dice over Chris. Rynde won.

Glospin fetched out a knife. 'Sorry. Defeat is not a concept I believe in.'

Rynde fingered the blade in his own pocket. He glanced along the gallery and he saw the approaching Drudge.

'Congratulations,' he said. 'You win.'

Glospin quickly nicked the skin on Chris's arm with his knife. He pulled back as the Drudge scooped Chris up and stalked away into the gloom.

He studied the blooded tip of the knife, sniffed it, held it to the light. 'The answer to your question, Owis, is simple.'

He smiled. 'You or the Doctor. One of you wil have to go.'

121.

Chapter Twenty-one.

Rice Cakes and a Banana

Chris dreamt he was awake.

He lay on a hard bed with a shawl over him. He'd just seen the murder again. Same characters, same location, same blood. And the white-haired figure was the man in the portrait. The man that Innocet called the first Doctor.

Towers of diamond lattice rose above him, like wine racks with coloured tubes instead of bottles. Above those, there were tangled branches merging with the solid, mottled sky. Something scampered along the underside of a branch, jumped across a gap and vanished behind the towers.

'Six,' said Innocet's voice.

Chris heard the clack of counters. He angled his head and saw Innocet and the Doctor hunched over a Sepulchasm board. The room could be a library, he thought. But there was no power to read the books.

'I was trying to get to my old room.' The Doctor threw a die. 'But there's a lagoon in the North annexe. Two again.'

'An underground stream comes in on the third level,' said Innocet.

Chris could hear them being polite.

'Only when I was thrown out, I left an experiment running that I didn't have time to finish. Some hybridized water-sligs that I crossed with a red-petalled orchid. I don't expect they survived.'

'Eight,' she said. The counters clacked. 'The creatures were locked in your room for one hundred and thirty years.

When they final y broke out they were as big as ichthydiles. There's a breeding colony in the annexe.'

'Ah. So that's why it's been closed off.'

'Forty-seven years ago, one of them strayed away from the colony. The Drudges trapped it in the kitchen. But no one could kill it, so it's still there.'

G.o.ddess, thought Chris. That was what was in the larder.

A die clattered. 'Two again!' complained the Doctor. 'This is ridiculous. I know you think I killed Quences, but it isn't true.'

'I saw you leave his room.'

'Impossible. I didn't come back to the House. They didn't even want me back. I was happy to concur.'

'Quences wanted you back. Nine. I'm catching up.'

'He was clinging to false hopes. But I wouldn't be tied down to his plans. And so Satthralope buried the place out of spite until I returned. Where's my Badger gone when I need him?'

'That dreadful old toy.'

'A present from Quences.'

'Oh, Snail,' she sighed, 'He always indulged you, you know.'

Snail! thought Chris. thought Chris.

There was a smile in the Doctor's voice. 'It's a very long time since I was called that.'

122.

'Yes.' She sounded duly embarra.s.sed. 'Once you were safe, Badger went off quite meekly with a Drudge.' There was a pause. 'So what was in Quences's will?'

'How can I possibly know that?'

'Because you stole it when you came back! It's your throw.'

'And murdered Quences in warm blood? Three to win.'

'I saw you. Chris and Arkhew saw you too.'

'One and a half,' he complained. The counters clacked. 'And I didn't kill Arkhew either. What did Satthralope do?

She must know. Quences is laid out downstairs for everyone to see.'

'Yes.'

'Oh, no!' The Doctor's voice was suddenly chil ed. 'It's for the House. That's why he's laid out. It's al a lie. She hasn't told the House!'

Innocet lowered her voice. 'It nearly kil ed her, but she managed to convince the House that Quences survived your attack.'

'Not guilty!' he insisted.

'And to convince the House, she had to convince herself too.'

'More fool Satthralope. Still deluded after al these years.'

'Then you tell her that, before she tries to wake Quences up.'

Oops, thought Chris.

'Your go,' said the Doctor.

'What is your function?' demanded Satthralope.

The motheaten avatroid monstrosity known as Badger stood before her. Web strands stretched across its filthy fur. One crystal eye dangled from its socket on a cl.u.s.ter of fibres. 'To serve my master?' it asked gruffly.

That irritating habit of answering with questions. 'Who reactivated you?'

'My pupil?'

Masters, pupils. Wasn't the Academy good enough? No wonder the Doctor was such a scapegrace when Quences had spoilt him so. 'You should never have been packed away in storage,' she told the offending mechanised tutor.

'Are there tasks for me?'

'Certainly not!' No need to wait and ask Quences what to do. 'Take it apart,' she said to the Drudge and the servant reached for the avatroid's override port.

A s.h.a.ggy arm slashed across. The machine bel owed with a program of rage. It caught hold of the Drudge and the two grappled together, careering dangerously near the old woman.

Her chair scuttled back carrying her out of reach.

123.

She screamed for her other servant and lashed out with her cane.

The Drudge was squarely matched by the avatroid, but the brute lowered its head and b.u.t.ted at its wooden adversary with its curled horns.

As the Drudge skittered backward, the avatroid scooped it off the floor and swung it round. Its head col ided with a wardrobe and sheared off at the neck.

The machine brute threw the headless Drudge to the ground. Then it lumbered away out of the room. The door slammed behind it.

'Get up! Get up!' shouted Satthralope.

The damaged wardrobe was shivering in the corner. The Drudge was crawling round the floor, trying to find its head. The splintered object had rolled under a table, and was emitting a creaking snarl of rage.

'Christopher?'

Chris peered drowsily at the Doctor. He was smiling gently from the end of the improvised table-bed. 'I'm sorry about the dreams. You know what it's like.'

Innocet was beside the Doctor. She raised her eyes to whatever the Gallifreyan equivalent of heaven was.

'Is there anything to eat?' Chris asked.

The Doctor fumbled in his pockets. His arm went deeper than the clothes could possibly allow. He produced an over ripe banana, an individual pack of broken water biscuits, two j.a.panese rice cakes and a white dove, the last of which he hurriedly stuffed back.

Chris took a rice cake. 'Thanks, Snail Snail.'

The Doctor cringed, but Chris nodded towards Innocet. The Doctor suddenly understood and pa.s.sed the rest to his Cousin. She looked at the food with reverence, almost afraid to eat something so precious.

'Peel the banana first,' he said, indicating which one it was.

Chris pul ed off some fluff and munched the rice cake. It was surprisingly fresh. 'What about the dreams?' he said.

'Ah. Yes, well.' The Doctor looked fl.u.s.tered. He crossed to the door and listened for a moment. Then he straightened a mirror that had been turned to the wall. 'You see Chris, what's been happening... Um, well, it's the TARDIS, you see.'

'Yeah?'

'Well, my head really. Only it's been getting so full lately. People to see...'

'Plots to unravel.'

'Yes, you know the sort of thing. But even my my brain has a limited capacity.' brain has a limited capacity.'

'Unlike your pockets.'

'Yes, you know I think I might have a hole. I seem to be losing things...'

'Your head is full,' Chris reminded him.