Fitz shook his head. 'What would be the point?'

The room they were in was largely intact, so they were at least sheltered from the wind. But it was still desperately cold. They huddled up in their heavy coats, curled into almost foetal positions to preserve their body warmth. Within a few minutes, George was asleep, snoring quietly. Fitz could see his breath rhythmically misting the air.

When he was certain that he was not going to be able to sleep, Fitz pulled the leather*bound notebook and a stub of pencil from his inside coat pocket. The book fell open at the map he had drawn as they made their way into the depths of Siberia on the train. He had thought it rough and crude at the time, annoyed by the lurching of the train. Now, compared with the later pencil scrawl, it looked like a work of art. He stared at it for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust and focus in the pale moonlight. Then he took the pencil and wrote across the area where they now were. The writing probably covered hundreds of miles, but the sentiment was what mattered. 'Here Be Monsters,' he wrote. And then after some thought he added: 'No, really.'

For perhaps an hour Fitz read through previous entries he had written. It was strange, he thought, how the most important things now seemed trivial. Strange how the words he read did not seem to be his own it was as if he was reading someone else's account. Filtered and somehow stilted compared with the actual events he remembered. But then he remembered writing the words too, and they seemed to reflect exactly what he thought and felt at the time.

He turned at last to a blank page, and started to write. It was awkward holding the pencil with his glove, but he was too cold to take it off. The pencil would probably freeze to his fingertips.

He had not written anything since the evening after Galloway was killed. That seemed so long ago now. He briefly outlined their journey to the foothills and how he thought he had felt. He tried to recall the mood, the images, what everyone had said. He wrote it as if it was the recent past today's events rather than lifetimes ago. Graul, Caversham, Price... Lifetimes, He wrote about how Chedakin had left them, pointing them up the mountain pa.s.s and telling them about the castle. He described as best he could the window in the air, and Graul's death and their flight from the monstrous creatures.

Only when he finished, when he had got to the point where he and George had taken the hidden pa.s.sageway to this very room when he had caught up with reality did he realise he had not mentioned Caversharn's disappearance. In a way that was appropriate, since he had barely thought about it. He set the pencil to the paper again, not caring that it was so blunt now that the words were almost illegible. He described the light strobing under and round the door to the Great Hall, and how Caversham had gone to investigate.

We followed at once myself, George and Price. But of Caversham we could find no trace. All we found was a pebble, or stone. It was black, about the size of a golf ball. Weird, I know, but that was all.

I was certain it wasn't there when we first went down the corridor. But then it would have been easy to miss, in the dark. And we were tired. So tired. Since that first murder we are none of us sleeping so well which is hardly surprising. And then, when the creatures came though, we no longer had the chance even to try to sleep. Though George is sleeping soundly now...

So, what of Caversham? Is his disappearance perhaps linked to that round black stone? Except it was fixed down. Part of the building, maybe? Or perhaps it was just incredibly heavy. But it looked and felt like a stone a slippery pebble. We were wondering if it was relevant, I remember discussing if perhaps we were trying to find a meaning where there was none.

But that was when one of the things smashed its way through the door which is without doubt one of the most terrifying things I have ever seen.

Tomorrow we will try to slip past them and escape down the mountain. If I can just sleep, just get some rest. Perhaps I shall wake in the morning and everything will be fine. I've often had that hope, actually.

It's never happened yet.

16: Secrets

Once she was properly awake and her head had stopped the worst of its throbbing, Anji realised just how delighted she was to see the Doctor again. She surprised him at one point by reaching round and dragging him into a hug. The look on his face made her think for a second that he was going to leap to his feet with a cry of 'Unhand me, Madam,' or some such archaic expression of outrage. But he endured it and even managed a tight smile afterwards.

'Hartford's got this time*travel detector thingy,' she explained.

The Doctor grinned. 'I bet he's getting some interesting readings now that I've arrived. If it works.'

'Seems to,' Anji told him. 'That's how he found me. Now he thinks it's down to me being here that he can't detect the time*travel equipment.'

'What time*travel equipment?' the Doctor asked in surprise.

'Well, there isn't any, is there,' Anji told him. 'As far as I can tell, he brought me along because he's convinced I've used their machine, which doesn't exist. So he thinks I can help explain it which I can't, except I've led him to believe that the scientists haven't built it yet but that when they do, they send me back from the future. Which has rather confused things.'

The Doctor nodded slowly. 'I can imagine.'

'It confuses me, anyway.'

'So,' the Doctor said, ticking off his points on his fingers, 'Hartford wants something that doesn't exist. He'll go to any lengths to get it, including shooting anyone who even considers getting anywhere near in his way. Curtis thinks that he's got Naryshkin creating an optic black hole, and Naryshkin has found a body in the ice. Using, I might add, a map that shouldn't exist to show him the way.'

Anji pulled her legs up under herself and twisted so she could see his face. 'They mentioned the body. In some sort of ice cave, apparently. So Flanaghan told me, anyway.'

'That's right. Frozen. He, umm...' The Doctor broke off and cleared his throat.

'What?'

'Hmm?

'He umm what?' Anji said, feeling a bit like a cartoon Red Indian.

'Oh, I was just going to say that Curtis bought an expeditionary journal for a hugely inflated price at an auction to get the map that led to the body which lay in the cave...' He was staring off into the distance, his voice getting quieter. 'Close to the castle that Jack built,' he finished, his voice barely more than a sigh.

Anji was beyond mere confusion now. 'And that helps us how?'

The Doctor shrugged. 'Probably not at all. But it was the expedition that George was on, and he's currently haunting one of the corridors.'

'Ye*es. Hang on, but that means...' Anji stopped. The Doctor was nodding glumly.

'Yes, I thought that too. If George is a ghost, what's happened to Fitz?'

'You said he was going to his death.'

The Doctor was indignant. 'I said almost certainly, not that he would definitely die.'

'How almost certainly?' Anji demanded.

'Look, Anji.' He took her hand between both his own. 'At any point there are different ways the future might go. We travel up and down one of them, usually. Unless we get shaken loose on to another for some reason, but that's never a good thing. But even if Fitz is dead in our universe, there are countless others where he survived. In fact, this may be one of the very few times where it is actually a comfort to realise that a fraction of an infinite number is still, by definition, infinite.' He smiled and nodded. But from his eyes, she could tell he was not even convincing himself.

'That's the biggest load of b.o.l.l.o.c.ks I've heard in a long time,' she said. 'And I work in the City.'

'It is actually true,' he said gently. 'But I admit it isn't much of a comfort.'

'So what do we do now? Before Hartford comes back and wants to know how to meet his great*grandfather.'

'I doubt that's really his plan,' the Doctor said.

Anji smiled her sweetest smile. 'I was being sarcastic, actually. A form of wit that is most underrated and for which our good friend Mr Kreiner was a stalwart advocate.'

'Oh,' the Doctor smiled as if only now realising. 'Oh well, in that case, what we do is simple.'

'That'll be a first.'

'You stay here.'

'Right.'

'While I go and chat with the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Alicia Romanov.'

'I beg your pardon?' Anji had to untangle herself from the bed covers to turn and watch him stride across the room. He seemed to be heading for the large fireplace in the middle of the opposite wall. 'What Grand d.u.c.h.ess Thingy Romanov?'

'Well, exactly,' the Doctor said. He was standing in front of the fireplace gazing up in apparent admiration at the huge tapestry that hung above it. 'Cover for me if Hartford or one of his friends comes hack, will you?'

'If they see you in the corridor, they'll kill you,' Anji told him. She was quite serious, and hoped he realised that.

The Doctor's tone did not exactly rea.s.sure her. 'In that case,' he said lightly, 'I'd better use the secret pa.s.sage.'

And with that he reached up and pulled the tapestry. Hard. With a creaking and sc.r.a.ping, a section of the wall beside the fireplace swung open to reveal a dark corridor beyond. The Doctor stepped through the open section of wall and waved cheerily at Anji. Then the wall swung slowly shut behind him.

Leaving Anji staring at a blank section of wall, vaguely aware that her hand was raised and was waving hesitantly back at him.

The pa.s.sage was not long, and the Doctor was pretty sure he knew where it led. Sure enough, when he found the mechanism to open the door at the other end, and let it swing open just enough to peer out into the room beyond, he was treated to the impressive view of the mountain peak from the Grand d.u.c.h.ess's room.

He could also see the Grand d.u.c.h.ess herself. She was sitting at a rather Spartan dressing table, examining her own face in the mirror. The Doctor watched, smiling to himself as she repaired her makeup and adjusted her earrings. He pulled the door almost closed when he saw her begin to stand up, and after a few moments heard the door of the room open quietly, then close again.

After counting to ten very slowly, the Doctor opened the door again and stepped into the room. The d.u.c.h.ess's trunk was close to where he had emerged, and he wasted no time in picking the lock and opening it. Inside was a pile of dresses.

But it was what was under the dresses that interested him. He lifted them from the trunk, dumped them over the bed, and examined the rest of the contents.

There was more makeup, although there was a large box of the stuff together with brushes and creams and treatments and ointments on the dressing table. Also various books. Text books and history books Russian history. There was a copy of The Plots to Rescue the Tsar The Plots to Rescue the Tsar by Shay McNeal, which did not surprise him. Nor did the well*thumbed English*Russian phrase book or the Russian dictionary. by Shay McNeal, which did not surprise him. Nor did the well*thumbed English*Russian phrase book or the Russian dictionary.

'That's the problem with the world today,' he mused out loud as he picked his way through. 'There are just so few surprises left.'

'That depends on your perspective.'

The Doctor finished flicking through the phrase book, and tossed it back into the trunk. Only then did he look up and smile at the Grand d.u.c.h.ess standing in the doorway.

She closed the door carefully. 'May I ask what you are doing?'

'Oh I think it's pretty obvious what I'm doing.' The Doctor smiled. 'Which is ironic, because it's pretty obvious what you're doing too.'

'What do you mean?' Her accent was more p.r.o.nounced when she was angry.

'I imagine you've been having a little chat with Mr Holiday,' the Doctor said, unimpressed by her vehemence. Let me guess he was less than happy that you came along. And now you're less than happy with what you've got into. Have you two known each other for very long?'

'I don't know what you mean.' But her tone was hesitant, anxious. The Doctor lifted the dresses and dumped them back into the trunk.

He sat down on the bed and patted the mattress next to him. She made no move to join him, and he sighed in disappointment. 'Have it your own way,' he said. 'I was going to suggest we pool our resources. Share our knowledge.'

She looked at him with evident disdain. 'What knowledge?' she asked. 'What do you know?'

'About you?' he said. 'Let me tell you.'

As the Doctor continued to speak, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess slowly walked over and sat down beside him on the bed. She said nothing until he had finished.

Her voice when she did speak was calm and quiet. 'You are a very clever man,' she said.

'Well,' the Doctor replied with a smile, 'if I was that that clever, I wouldn't need your help.' clever, I wouldn't need your help.'

15: The Ice Cavern

'Fitz wake up!'

He struggled back to consciousness, wiping the sleep from his eyes and registering the cold, hard floor beneath him. 'What what is it?'

George was shaking his shoulder 'I must have dozed off' he said breathless and excited.

'You were snoring well enough last I remember,' Fitz told him.

'But they've gone. No sign of them.'

'What the creatures outside?'

George nodded. It was still dark outside apart from the pallid light of the moon filtered through a few scurrying clouds.

'It will be light in an hour,' George was saying as Fitz pulled himself upright. 'Maybe we should make a move now?'

'We can't run away for ever,' Fitz said blearily. 'But there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start.' He walked over to the window, aching all over, and looked down into the deserted courtyard below. 'You're right. Let's get packed.'

He turned to find George staring at him open*mouthed. 'Packed? But we don't have '

'Sorry, it was a joke,' Fitz admitted. 'Ha ha,' he added by way of explanation.

They made their way cautiously out of the room, along a narrow corridor and out into the courtyard. The first streaks of dawn were staining the sky behind the mountain peaks and making the snow and ice glow eerily. Of the creatures, there was no sound or sign.

Only when they got to the main gateway did they pause to look back, did they risk a few whispered words.

'What do you think?' George asked.

Fitz shrugged. 'Maybe they're asleep somewhere. Or perhaps they went back to their window, through to their own world.'

'You think that's where they came from, then?'

'Don't you?'

George nodded slowly. 'Fascinating,' he breathed. 'I just wish we had the time and the facilities to study such creatures properly.'

'Really?' Fitz grinned. 'Let me make a note of that, for the record.' He pulled out the journal and made a point of leafing through the brittle*cold pages.