The villagers hurried into the trees, looking around frantically for the source of the danger. Too close, too quickly. Kame stood in the clearing, hand on his sword. His body felt drained of energy. Would this be the time that he died truly died, not one of these mock deaths he was forced to endure?

He was confident that Mikeneko could lead her people to safety, as long as they were lucky enough to avoid further encounters. He felt oddly as though death would not be a mere trifle, but a positive relief.

He was faintly disappointed when the Doctor rode up to him.

'I'm glad to see you're still with us, Kame-san,' he said, without preamble.

'Is everyone all right?'

Kame glanced around at the forest, where the peasants were making a complete hash of trying to hide. 'Yes,' he said.

'It's not safe here,' said the Doctor. 'I narrowly avoided some groups of soldiers who've splintered off from the main battle. They're running scared, shooting at everything that moves.'

'Then there's nothing for it but to make straight for the monastery, and hope,' said Kame. 'Everyone, come on!'

Someone screamed.

A second arrow fell into the forest, and then a third. The air was suddenly filled with the smell of gunpowder.

'No,' said the Doctor. 'This can't happen now.'

When they heard the gunshots echoing through the trees, the villagers cried out and ran.

155.

Penelope dodged and ducked through the trees, keeping as close to the ground as she could manage. The samurai seemed intent on one another, paying little attention to the people she saw running back and forth, but there was no sense in taking chances.

She had to find the Doctor. It had become obvious that he was the only person who could resolve the situation. The only one who knew enough, had enough experience, to make everything come out the way it ought to.

She found him, somehow inevitably, at the centre of the storm. He was holding a small child who oh, the poor thing had been struck by an arrow.

Penelope rushed forward. The Doctor turned his ashen face to her. 'She's dead,' he said. 'I thought I could save her, and now she's dead.'

Penelope reached out. 'Do not blame yourself,' she said gently. 'This is a terrible situation. Let me take her.'

The Doctor just shook his head. She decided it would be best not to insist he looked as though he was about to collapse. Penelope said, 'Kadoguchiroshi sent me to find you, and anyone else who needs sanctuary. There is a secret entrance to the monastery. Come, I'll show you.'

He shook his head again. 'Doctor,' she said firmly, 'we cannot remain here.

It's far too dangerous.' She tried to take the child from his arms, and his face crumpled up with pain, and that was when she realized the child had been shot dead while he was holding her and the head of the arrow that had penetrated the girl's body was protruding from his back.

Joel had managed to drag the sword out of its scabbard. It was heavy, so heavy that the tip kept dragging down to the ground.

Not as though anyone wanted to fight with him, the little scrawny foreign guy wearing no armour and gla.s.ses.

They were swarming up the ridge, silently, each samurai finding a match.

The combats were short and brutal: one proper blow with a katana katana would take off a limb or sever a neck. Joel had seen Hanagami slice clean through an attacker's torso. The man had slid to the ground in two tidy halves. would take off a limb or sever a neck. Joel had seen Hanagami slice clean through an attacker's torso. The man had slid to the ground in two tidy halves.

Joel swung from side to side, spinning on the spot, but Still no one attacked him. He was panting, trying to grip his weapon with sweating hands, trying to look in all directions at once. All he expected was a sudden roaring as someone noticed him, a moment of startling pain, and blackness.

He really hoped they didn't cut him in half. It would be too gross.

He saw Hanagami die. He had seen the samurai who did it, struggling up to the top of the ridge. The man's banner had trailed behind him, snapped and dragging, and there were two of his own archers' shots in his back.

He had run at Hanagami, shouting a desperate challenge.

Hanagani 156.

whirled, plucking his sword from a corpse, and the two of them crashed together, and then Hanagami's head was bouncing down the hillside.

The man saw Joel, and came at him, limping and snorting with effort. Joel looked around frantically, but there was no one left, no one to protect him.

Even Gufuu-sama himself was locked in battle, his sword whirling around him like helicopter blades.

So Joel somehow managed to heft his katana katana and impale the charging man on it. and impale the charging man on it.

The guy fell right on him, knocking him flat. His arms and legs moved around for a bit, as though he was still working out how to kill Joel, even though he was dead.

Or maybe he just wanted to stick his fingers in his ears, so that he could die without having to listen to Joel screaming like a maniac.

Penelope's stomach had turned, but she'd gritted her teeth and snapped the arrow and drawn it out of the girl's body, gently pulling her away from the Doctor.

The time traveller was leaning back against a tree, at an angle. Two inches of bloodied shaft protruded from his chest, emerging from between his second and third ribs. His fingers were pressed to the wound, trying to hold back the bleeding.

The knifelike metal tip emerged from his back, a little lower. The arrow had sliced through him at an angle like the proverbial hot knife through b.u.t.ter.

'I knew something like this would happen,' he said dully. 'Actually, I'm surprised it took this long. How did you get up there?'

'I used my time conveyance,' she said. 'I modified it as per your suggestion, and went for a hyperwalk.'

'I'm impressed,' he breathed.

'The situation must be desperate,' Penelope joked gently.

He tapped the back of her hand with a finger. 'You are so far in advance of your time,' he said, deadly serious. 'You ought to have a place in history beside some of its greatest physicists.'

'And yet,' she said sadly, 'no one in the twentieth century has heard of me.'

He waved his left hand, vaguely. 'Time's fickle.'

'Doctor, I must remove the arrow from your back.'

'Best to leave it where it is,' he murmured. 'Some of the monks are doctors, they'll. . . ' He seemed to fade away for a moment, then looked at her, his eyes brilliant, almost relucent in his grey face. 'It's not as bad as it probably looks.

We must get the villagers back together. They've been scattered. Through the forest.'

'What of the battle?' said Penelope.

157.

'Never mind that,' said the Doctor.

'But doesn't it matter who wins? What about history?'

'It's swings and roundabouts,' he said. He sounded as though he was going to sleep, which struck Penelope as dangerous. 'No, we need to sort out the villagers. . . the very man.'

Penelope turned. Mr Cwej was standing there, staring at the Doctor. 'Oh, Geez,' he said.

The Doctor lifted a hand, beckoning him over. 'Chris,' he wheezed, 'find the villagers. Take them up to the monastery. There's a secret entrance. Penelope will show you.'

'Wait a minute,' said Mr Cwej. 'We can't leave you here.'

'Take the pod with you,' said the Doctor. His voice was suddenly so quiet.

Penelope found herself taking his hand. His skin was frighteningly cold. 'Go on, Chris. I'm leaving you in charge.'

'You're not leaving,' said Mr Cwej, and Penelope realized that the boy was starting to cry. 'Forget it. No way. This isn't happening. No, you listen. We're not leaving you behind. I'll put you in the cart, and we'll drive you up.'

'You can't take the cart,' breathed the Doctor. 'Too conspicuous. Just go, Chris. There isn't much time. . . '

'Don't die.' Mr Cwej had taken the Time Lord's other hand. 'Don't go. I can't do this without you,' he wept. 'I can't.'

'Chris. . . ' breathed the Doctor. His eyes were closed.

'Oh my G.o.ddess,' said Mr Cwej. 'You're going to regenerate, aren't you?

This is it, right here and now!'

'No. Not this time. . . '

'You have to,' said Mr Cwej, terrified. 'You have to.'

The Doctor's hands were limp and cold in their grasp. 'Chris.' His eyelids flickered open for a moment. 'Forgive me.'

He breathed out, a long, weary sigh, and suddenly he was leaning against Penelope, slumped forward, his fingers limp in her grasp.

Mr Cwej shook him. There was no response.

'Mr Cwej.' Penelope put her hand on the man's shoulder. 'Chris '

'Oh man,' said Mr Cwej. 'This can't be happening. He can't just die by ' He stopped, biting into his lip so hard Penelope thought it would bleed.

'By what?'

'Oh G.o.ddess,' said Mr Cwej. 'By accident.'

158.

Scream of consciousness i i I.

I am.

That's a start.

I am. How am I? First hints of sensation reaching me. Still a body out there.

I think.

No pain. Dull ache where my shoulder should be, the after-image of a healed wound.

I am still. No point in moving yet, or opening my eyes. Take the time the body needs to wake up.

I am. I am where? Not sure how much has happened. Present time: one fuzzy black gap past the point when Chris finally turned up. Present place: no clue.

Will it be the Room when I open my eyes? Was that it? Did my body finally give me up? Have I crossed for good into the mental prison the others have prepared for me? Not sure. Don't think so. Feels different this time. As if I'm being touched all over my body, cradled even.

Realization. Relief. I'm alive. Some fuzzy dazed kind of alive.

Listen. Nothing. n.o.body nearby, not even distant sounds of battle. Good.

They've gone on their way. Chris has gone on his way. Good. All I need to do is stay out of the way until he's been a hero. Then I make a dramatic return from the dead, congratulate him, admit modestly that I'd been playacting my death scene, that I'd misled him for his own good. He'll be upset; they always are. But he'll have made the choices he has to, and then he won't need me to be the hero for him any more. He'll have gone on his way.

Might be a good time now to open my eyeeeeaaaaargh! eyeeeeaaaaargh! Pain. Dirt. Pressing on my open eyes close them close them! Grit under my eyelids. Hands won't move can't rub them. Weight on me. Earth holding me. Can't move. They've buried me. They've gone on their way. They've buried me. Pain. Dirt. Pressing on my open eyes close them close them! Grit under my eyelids. Hands won't move can't rub them. Weight on me. Earth holding me. Can't move. They've buried me. They've gone on their way. They've buried me.

159.

Won't scream. I don't scream. I don't lose control. My eyes are watering.

I can cope, I always do, no matter what they throw at me. I won't scream.

Keep the eyes shut tight. Keep them shut. Don't suck in that breath all you'll get is dirt. Don't wonder how deep you are. Wonder how much dirt there is between you and that breath you want, between you and the people who've all gone away.

You'd think whoever's watching wouldn't begrudge me one little tiny scream. . .

But I can't open my mouth.

160.

Third Slice