'Citizens of Dant, though! Well done us!'

'I know!'

'Noticed anything yet?'

'Yes. That dragon. Is it me, or is it, sort of, oozing? Or something?'

33.The Doctor's smile switched off. 'It's not you.'

Rory drifted obediently through the room and listened to the conversation. He soon realised that everyone was talking about the same thing. Beol.

Who had seen Beol, who had spoken to Beol, what Beol said, how he said it, and what he was wearing at the time. Not all of what Rory heard had the ring of truth and, in fact, the further away he got from the centre of the hall, the more fanciful the stories became and the more they carried with them the distinct whiff of desperation.

'Help,'

Rory muttered. 'I'm a prisoner in Heat Heat magazine.' He inched his way to the edge of the crowd and looked for a quiet spot where he could observe people in peace. magazine.' He inched his way to the edge of the crowd and looked for a quiet spot where he could observe people in peace.

A covered arcade ran around the perimeter of the room, providing a haven for those who found the bustle close to the dais too much. Chairs and tables had been placed between its columns. These were mostly deserted, apart from one, at which an old woman sat, alone. Her chin was propped up on her hands and she stared out across the hall with a bored expression. Seeing that Rory was looking at her, she gestured to him to join her. When he got close, she rose up from her seat and, with some ceremony, pulled out a chair for him.

'h.e.l.lo,' Rory said, as he sat down. 'I'm Rory.'

34.Why did it sound better when the Doctor said it?

The old woman gave a brisk nod of the head.

'And I'm Hilthe. Welcome to Geath.'

'Thank you.'

'I haven't seen you here before,' she said.

'I haven't been here before. First time in Geath.'

'Yes? Then tell me, Rory, what do you think of my city?'

Rory gazed out across the chamber at the glamorous gathering and then up at the shimmering light-filled dome. He could not see Beol, or the dragon, but he knew they were there, and he could easily picture how magnificent they both looked. 'I think it's amazing.'

Hilthe reached for a bottle and another gla.s.s. 'I think it's tasteless.'

The gla.s.s c.h.i.n.ked against the bottle. Rory blinked. Suddenly everything around him seemed garish and flashy. The gold was a slick coating over the hall's true beauties. When Rory peered past it, he was able to see how the hall had once appeared.

Pale stone and subtle frescoes; measured and delicate. 'That's the trouble with bling.'

'Bling?'

Rory gestured around them. 'All this stuff.

Showy. You know.'

'Bling.' Hilthe rolled the word around, trying Hilthe rolled the word around, trying 35 35 it out. 'I like that. I'll remember it.' She pushed a gla.s.s towards him. 'Drink up. It makes the evening pa.s.s more quickly.'

From the centre of the hall, applause broke out. It rippled outwards, until soon the people standing at the edge near their table were clapping and pressing forwards. Hilthe sighed. 'Here comes our bedtime story. Same story, every night. And every night, they hang on the Teller's every word.

They've all gone quite mad.' Her voice took on a note of cheerful desperation. 'Or I'm getting old. Or both.'

'The same story? What's it about?'

'How brave Beol won the dragon and brought it to Geath.' She spoke violently, almost viciously. That was when Rory noticed she wasn't wearing any gold. 'What else could we possibly want to hear about?'

Rory got up from his seat to look over the crowd, trying to see what was happening in the centre of the hall. The older man, the one who had been standing behind the King - the Teller, presumably -walked to the front of the dais. He made a brief show of reluctance but the crowd cheered him on. From deep within the hall, a chant arose, taken up by everyone until it boomed around the dome. It was the King's name: Beol! Beol! Beol! Beol! Beol! Beol!

'See what I mean?' Hilthe said. 'They've all 36 36 gone mad.'

The man lifted up his left hand. The rings on it glittered sharply in the lamplight. The crowd fell silent. 'So,' he said, and then paused for effect.

Hilthe groaned and reached for her bottle. 'Here we go again...'

The Tale of the King and the Dragon 'Hear now,' said the Teller, 'great men and women gathered here in the heart-hall of Geath, how Beol-' Beol-'

Hearing the name, the crowd said, 'Ah!'

'How Beol, of all men bravest and boldest, haled to this high hall a gift of great worth-' The Teller flung out his arm.

'Ooh!' said the crowd.

' - hear now how Sheal was shorn of the golden worm -'

'Is he alliterating?' whispered Amy to the Doctor.

'It's the form. It's how it's done. Shush! Want to listen.'

Amy settled back in her chair and got comfortable. The hall was very full and very warm.

The light from the lamps and the torches filled the place with a soft gold haze that imbued it with a dreamy feeling. Amy closed her eyes.

When you listened carefully, she thought, the 37 37 Teller's voice had a lot going for it. He used it like a musical instrument - one moment dropping down to a whisper that made Amy lean in to catch his words, the next moment bellowing out a war cry and making her jump back. There was something else too - his voice conjured up vivid images in her mind. She could picture in detail everything he described - not like television, little images flickering away in the corner of the room - this was more immediate, more immersive, like a lucid dream. It swept you up and carried you along.

Amy followed the Teller as he led her through Beol's deeds: she gasped at the King's audacity, tricking his way into the city of Sheal; she laughed herself nearly into hiccups to hear the way he made such fools out of the townsfolk; she chewed her nails at the suspense of him creeping through the city; and she thrilled at the knockdown fight with the guards. And then he laid hands upon the dragon...

Amy opened her eyes. There it was, lying at the heart of the city, the red slit of its eye watching, its mouth curved in a hungry smile. The Teller's tale went on without her. Amy leaned forwards in her chair, mesmerised by the hugeness of the dragon and the beauty of it. She marvelled at the craft that must have gone into each scale upon its back, the long flat ears, the elegant snout, the humming...

38.Humming? Amy shook her head. Yes, she could hear humming: a faint and distant chord that was pitched perfectly with the Teller's rich tones. Was it the musicians, accompanying him? Amy listened more closely. No, it was too precise for that. This sound was mechanical... Amy strained to listen. And then she heard something else - behind the Teller's voice, behind the dragon's music. A whisper in her mind, inchoate and almost suppressed, but she could just make out the sense of it. The whisper said: Wil it come Wil it come back tonight? Wil the monster come back tonight? back tonight? Wil the monster come back tonight?

Monster? Fear clawed at Amy and she began to tremble. She looked round the room, but she could only see strangers, alien strangers on an alien world. She was quite alone.

Suddenly, the Teller's voice swooped up in anger. Amy jumped. He was describing the pursuit of Beol made by the people of Sheal in their anger at the theft of the dragon. They chased him like a vagabond up hill and down dale, set their dogs after him ('Boo!' hissed the crowd), but at last he came to Geath, and he brought the dragon with him. But Sheal was angry. The crowd shivered in fear at this threat - but then the Teller soothed them, reminded them how Beol had won once and would win again. Beol was their King, he said. Beol would protect them.

39.'Amy. Amy.' Someone spoke softly in her ear, breaking the spell. It was the Doctor. 'What is it?

Can you hear something?'

The tale ended. The crowd broke into rapturous applause. Beol! Beol! they cried. they cried. Beol! Beol! Beol! Beol! The name dispelled all fear. Amy shook her head. 'I heard nothing.' And what had she heard, really - a whisper, a hum, a story? She nodded at the Teller. The name dispelled all fear. Amy shook her head. 'I heard nothing.' And what had she heard, really - a whisper, a hum, a story? She nodded at the Teller.

'He's good, isn't he?'

Hilthe sat up with sudden interest. 'Now this is new! Whenever he's told this story before, he's always said that Beol won the dragon from the people of Dant. But this time it's from the people of Sheal. I wonder what that could mean...' Hilthe glanced round the hall and shook her head. 'Not that it makes any difference to this lot. I doubt anyone else has even noticed. He could tell them they brought it back from the moon and they'd believe him.'

'Is any of the story true?' Rory asked.

'Some of it. They did ride into town with that dragon on a cart behind them. Quite an old cart - one of the wheels was about to fall off. From the way he tells it now you'd think it was a chariot, with half a hundred acrobats behind.'

'What happened next?'

'We a.s.sumed at first that they were showmen.

40.And then Beol challenged me to debate with him.

Which I did and, after that, we did what we do best. We held an election. Which Beol won - and I lost.'

There was a whole world of disappointment compressed into those few words. 'I'm sorry,' Rory said gently.

Hilthe patted his hand. 'Thank you. Very kind of you. Once I would have said that such is the nature of things, that fortune's wheel can turn in an instant - but immediately the city began to change. Not only in appearance - although that is certainly startling enough - but in the way it talked.

Beol stopped being Councillor and instead was called King. And then we began to hear that the people of Dant and Sheal and Jutt were jealous of us and our new wealth, and that we must be watchful, and trust Beol to protect us...'

On the dais, the Teller brought his story to a close. The crowd burst into rapturous applause.

The King rose and bowed and left the hall, the Teller close behind.

Hilthe watched them go. 'And so Beol will protect us, the Teller says. Protect us from whom?

We have never needed protecting in the past.'

Now that the King had gone, the courtiers left, flowing quickly past the table at which Hilthe and Rory sat. Beol's name was on everyone's lips; Beol's 41 41 daring, Beol's courage. Hilthe sighed. 'It is very strange to watch people you have known and loved all the long years of your life change so swiftly into strangers. Perhaps I missed something? Perhaps they can see something that I cannot see?'

The room was almost empty. It felt tawdry and cold. Hilthe looked lost and sad. Rory pressed her hand. 'I don't think you missed anything. I think you're the only one seeing straight.'

A smile returned to the corners of the old woman's mouth and some sparkle to her eyes.

'Young man, I entirely agree with you!' As she got up to leave, Hilthe reached into her purse and brought out a small circular piece of tile. 'Thank you,' she said. 'If you don't mind listening to an old woman talk about the good old days - come and find me. I can talk about the good old days for ever.' She handed him the tile, bowed her head in farewell, and then ducked into the shadows of the arcade, leaving by another route to avoid the crowd.

A complex of rooms surrounded the council chamber, and the three travellers were a.s.signed a suite a short walk away from the hall.

The Doctor checked the corridor outside, and then turned to his companions. 'Right. Pockets.'

Amy and Rory stared at him blankly. 'I'll go first, 42 42 shall I?' The Doctor removed his jacket. He brushed fruitlessly at some of the mud spatters, turned the jacket upside down and gave it a shake.

Gold poured onto the bed. Coins. Chains. A couple of forks. Another shake. Another fork. The Doctor picked it up and wondered at it. 'Forks...

forks... what is it about forks all of a sudden?' He nodded at Rory. 'Your turn.'

Slowly, Rory emptied his pockets. Coins. More coins. A couple of rings. A few bracelets. 'Nice,'

said the Doctor. 'Not really your style. Amy? What do you have for us?'

Amy stared at the treasure in disbelief. 'I don't know what you two have been up to, but I've not spent the whole evening pilfering!'

The Doctor shrugged. 'Check your pockets. You never know what might have fallen into them.'

'Nothing has "fallen into" my pockets!'

'Give it a go anyway.'

With much reluctance, Amy shoved her hand into a pocket - and pulled out a spoon. It was the one from the gatehouse. Amy stared down at it, warm in her hand. She had no recollection of picking it up. Under oath, she would have sworn she had only touched it.

'Try your other pocket.' The Doctor was watching her closely, his deep-set eyes dark and intense. Amy pulled out a necklace. She pooled 43 43 it into her palm. 'I don't even remember seeing this!'

'I'm sure you don't,' the Doctor replied. 'I don't remember much after the first fork and I was concentrating.' He took the necklace from her hand and added it to the pile. He hopped onto the bed and sat cross-legged, hunched over the loot, stirring it around with one finger. 'What about the rest?' he said. 'What are we not telling each other?'

'What do you mean?' said Rory.

'We were there for about two hours-' 'Really?'

Amy was startled. She hadn't noticed the time pa.s.s.

'Mm. So think. What did you see? What did you hear?'

'There was a king and a dragon...' Amy said slowly. She laughed. 'You were there - you could hardly miss the pair of them!'

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and switched it on, directing it at the gold. 'A king and a dragon. Anything else?'

'I got talking to an old woman...' Mid-sentence, Rory seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. 'Doesn't matter, it wasn't that interesting.'

Under the sonic screwdriver's pale beam, the metal began to shift and change and liquefy. A 44 44 haze gathered over it, like mist over the moon. 'The Teller told us how Beol won the dragon - hey, he was good, wasn't he?' Amy said, but as she spoke she remembered something else, something on the very edge of her memory, something that filled her with dread... She shook her head. No. That was rubbish. That was because the Teller was good at what he did. Like a scary movie. 'Oh, Doctor, you were sitting right next to me, you heard everything I did!'

'Yes. Yes, I did.' The Doctor switched off the sonic. The glow around the treasure disappeared.

'It's not gold, of course,' he said. 'There isn't any gold on Geath. I won't bore you with the full technical name because it would take the best part of two minutes to say it. Besides, it's more famous under its trade name. Enamour.' Enamour.'

The Doctor unfolded himself from his sitting position and picked up his jacket. He gave his jacket another shake which didn't result in any more treasure and didn't remove any more mud. 'And when I say "famous", what I mean is "infamous". Enamour is banned throughout all self-respecting galactic civilisations and in most of the disreputable ones too. It's advanced and highly dangerous technology, and what it's doing on a pre-industrial world like this I don't know.' He laid his jacket out carefully on the bed in front 45 45 of him and stared down as if it was a particularly difficult puzzle. Then he shoved his arms into the sleeves and flung it back over the top of his head.

Somehow, he ended up wearing it. 'But I want to take a closer look at that dragon. Find out where it came from.' He turned to his friends. 'Are you coming or are you staying?'

' U r n . . . ' s a i d R o r y . ' W h e n y o u s a y "dangerous" ...?'

'I mean dangerous - and not in a safe way. Are you coming?'

Amy laughed. 'What do you think?' She was first to the door - which meant she was first through it when the howling started in the corridor beyond.