Cosmae finally appeared in the doorway, yawning and running a hand through his tousled hair. He had pulled his garments around him very hastily. 'I, uh . . . I . . .'

Defrabax threw the cloak towards the young man, who caught it clumsily. 'Do I pay you so much, Cosmae,' said Defrabax, with mock criticism in his voice, 'that you have enough to spare on the local s.l.u.ts?'

'She's not a -'

'I a.s.sume that your dissipation of desire involved some sort of financial transaction?' interrupted Defrabax, walking towards the young man.

'Well, I -'

'So I obviously am am paying you too much. Believe it or not, I remember being a young man. But, really, that scant pay of yours should go to the pursuit of the spiritual rather than the carnal. The spiritual is eternal. The carnal is . . . paying you too much. Believe it or not, I remember being a young man. But, really, that scant pay of yours should go to the pursuit of the spiritual rather than the carnal. The spiritual is eternal. The carnal is . . .

fleeting.'

Cosmae looked a little sheepish.

'Come now, lad,' said Defrabax abruptly, clapping the boy on the shoulder. 'Let's question the homunculus.'

In a single glance Oiquaquil saw that Commander Zaitabor had the arrogant insecurity common in one who has risen quickly through the ranks. Intrinsic to Zaitabor's reputation as a man able to accomplish any task entrusted to him was a grim suspicion of anyone and everything. The people of the city didn't have a word for paranoia, but if they had Zaitabor's mannerisms would have formed part of the definition.

Oiquaquil, the civilian Captain of the City Guard, continued to watch the Commander closely. Zaitabor was like a wild beast made dangerous by its injury and was likely to lash out at anything, if the mood took him, whereas Grand Knight Himesor was sure of himself and confident in the loyalty and ability of the other knights. Oiquaquil had sought an audience with Himesor, but he had ended up in Zaitabor's chamber, reminding himself that he must say what he had planned to say, whether to Himesor or to his brash deputy. The people deserved nothing less.

Zaitabor stood at his desk, rooting through some books and stray parchments on the table with one hand while removing his plumed helm with another.

'Captain Oiquaquil, Grand Knight Himesor extends his deepest apologies. Certain matters call for his immediate attention. He hopes that I might be able to relay your message to him, and perhaps also that I might be able to allay any of your general concerns.' Zaitabor's voice was crisp with exact recollection, the pitch lowering as he slipped into his own words. 'Now, Captain, what's the problem?'

Oiquaquil took a deep breath, puffing up his little chest beneath the shabby armour. 'I am most grateful for your time, Commander Zaitabor. I wish to talk to you about the attacks from the sewers.'

'One of the areas that Himesor, I can a.s.sure you, is looking into as a matter of great priority,' commented Zaitabor.

'I am grateful for the involvement of the knights. My own men are a poorly equipped rabble,' said Oiquaquil, who couldn't help but glance at Zaitabor's engraved breastplate and clean mail tunic. 'It is sometimes all I can do to issue simple commands. Their weapons are poor, their morale low. And these terrible creatures . . .'

Zaitabor sat down and brought his fingertips together in front of his face. 'I have always advocated that the City Guard should be introduced to our techniques of training and discipline.' He extended a broad palm towards the Captain, before bringing his fingers together in a tight fist.

'Give me a boy for a few weeks, and I'll show you the man within.'

'The knights are rightly feared throughout the city.'

'Feared? No, "respected" is surely a better word,' smiled Zaitabor with grey contempt. 'But you did not come here to discuss training.'

'Indeed,' agreed Oiquaquil. 'I would, however, request that the knights aid us wherever possible.'

'Of course,' smiled Zaitabor. 'Although this a.s.sumes that the creatures will emerge again.'

'You believe that they will not?' asked Oiquaquil.

'Who can say?' replied Zaitabor. 'But the retribution of the knights will soon be obvious to all.' His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. 'Better, of course, to take our swords to the creatures than stand idly waiting for their next attack.

The creatures are dumb brutes, mere vermin. We will obliterate them. We will be held in even greater respect respect than before.' than before.'

'The populace believe that these creatures are merely the first that we should expect from the Menagerie of Ukkazaal,' said Oiquaquil in a quavering voice.

'Expect?' asked Zaitabor, his voice becoming harder.

'What do you mean, Captain?'

'The legends ... The legends are clear.'

'The legends should not concern us. They are a phantom of so-called history. We have no need for legends.'

'But the stories are . . .'

'The stories are not to be trusted! Whatever may have prompted the tales cannot affect us now.'

'But the prophecies clearly state that scientific research shall be punished by the creatures from the Menagerie -'

'You brazen fool!' Zaitabor rose as if to strike Oiquaquil.

'You sound like one of the Brotherhood of Rexulon!'

Oiquaquil's face blanched at the words. 'Commander, I . .

. I a.s.sure you I have no sympathy for the brothers and their terrible aims. The knights must remain immutable if our city is to survive and -'

'The brotherhood must be rooted out and destroyed,'

interjected Zaitabor. 'They have encouraged these macabre tales.'

'Indeed, Commander,' nodded Oiquaquil hastily.

Zaitabor walked to the window, and stared down into the city. From the great Kuabris towers it looked like a smoking refuse heap, damped down by drizzle. Zaitabor pointed across to the buildings and chimneys of the Furnace, the red bricks blackened by soot, the walkways clogged by slag-heaps, tumbling piles of coal and forests of chopped timber.

'The Furnace and the buildings like it in other cities are the only exceptions to our opposition to disgraced, fiendish science. Rest a.s.sured that other projects, any unlicensed scientists, all dissent - all will be crushed by the knights.'

He turned back to the Captain, and fixed him with a level gaze. 'And remember, too, that the brotherhood, and its sympathizers, will be annihilated. Their wives, their children - they too will be purged.' He smiled. 'There is no other way.'

The Captain rose to his feet, and reached for his cape.

'Please be a.s.sured that my men will hunt down the brotherhood, and will continue to seek the faithless scientists.'

'I am grateful for your continued dedication,' smiled Zaitabor. 'Your concerns have been noted. I will inform you when we have made progress against the creatures from the sewers.'

'Thank you, n.o.ble Commander. I have taken quite enough of your time. I too have matters to attend to.' Oiquaquil shuffled towards the door, half-bowing before the Commander, who seemed distracted once more.

'Goodbye,' said Zaitabor, staring out of the window once more at the fluttering electric lights.

As Oiquaquil closed the door he heard the Commander spit the words 'Spineless fool' after him. He quickly returned to his untidy consignment of frightened men.

'It's very backward,' said Zoe, pulling a long-sleeved jacket around her shoulders.

'Well, Zoe,' said the Doctor, 'we've been to many advanced worlds recently. Perhaps it's time for a change.'

The TARDIS had come to rest in a tiny alleyway, almost completely blocking it. The walls of the buildings curved upwards, the upper storeys virtually touching their opposite number, and were composed either of rough wood or crude brown brick. There were windows filled with gla.s.s, while others were open to the air, but all were internally obscured by shutters or drab curtains. Jamie peered down at his feet, and noticed with distaste the refuse that obscured the rough cobbled surface.

'This should be a home-from-home for Jamie,' noted Zoe wickedly.

'There's no need to be rude,' said the Doctor. 'Let's take a brisk walk, keeping an eye open for a shop or something to sell us some food. And on the way we can see how Heddeige's theories work out in reality.'

'It would be nice to meet some normal people,' said Jamie firmly, beginning to walk carefully down the alley. 'Folk that I can talk to. Not scientists and professors from the future.'

'If this were Earth,' said Zoe, 'I'd say the architecture was almost Elizabethan.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Except?'

'The design is a little more advanced. And there seems to be evidence of some sort of concrete.'

'Good,' the Doctor said as they emerged into the street.

The rain had ceased for the moment, and occasional street lamps forced spears of light down into the lowlying fog.

People hurried by the three time-travellers with scarcely a glance.

'Clothing?' asked the Doctor.

'Primitive,' said Jamie proudly. 'Very primitive.'

'Lighting?'

'These street lights seem to be crude electric units, utilizing some form of inert gas,' p.r.o.nounced Zoe.

'And the source of this electricity?' asked the Doctor, indicating the furnaces just visible on the edge of the city.

'Well,' said Zoe, following the dark clouds as they plotted a viscous course across the sky, 'it's certainly not environmentally friendly.'

Araboam watched Defrabax's house from a partly concealed position in a doorway, trying to turn his discomfort and boredom into some sort of spiritual discipline. Commander Zaitabor had issued strict instructions for him to stay out of sight, and to look for a non-human creature leaving or entering the wizard's house.

Araboam had no idea what the creature was, or how dangerous it might prove, but he was a novice knight, and he remained absolutely convinced of the strength and invincibility of the way of Kuabris. He followed orders, knowing that it was important for him to impress Commander Zaitabor. He knew that Zaitabor and the Grand Knight were collaborating on some important scheme, a series of plans that affected the safety of the entire city, but the details simply didn't bother Araboam.

Araboam concentrated on watching the house.

All the curtains and shutters were drawn, but the young knight could see that the only illumination came from downstairs and towards the back. It was unlikely that the creature would turn up banging on the front door, so Araboam began to move around to the rear, to see if there was a secondary entrance into the building.

He emerged from the shadows, pulling a long, dark cloak more tightly around him to obscure his bright knight's armour. His feet ground across the street, making a single intrusion into the silence. This was clearly a residential area, and the pavements were deserted. There were very few street lights here, and Araboam was soon back in the darkness, flattened against the rough wall of the house next to Defrabax's. Both houses had simple slit windows on the sides, and the knight, sure that he could not be seen, strode quickly towards the rear of the buildings.

The square area formed between the backs of the houses and a few small shops was piled high with refuse and wooden crates of old fruit. Diminutive scavenging owls picked amongst the rubbish and flapped up the mountains of crude wooden boxes. The smell of rotting vegetables ate into his nostrils, and Araboam coughed into his fist.

There was a back door into Defrabax's house, a small wooden thing held together by strips of bronze. There was also an open window set close to it, and light burned in some back room. Araboam looked about him, and saw no one. He walked quickly towards the window.

There was a scream and the sound of sudden confusion from some distance away. Araboam paused in thought for a moment, but he knew that his allegiance to the people of the city was stronger than his temporary orders from Commander Zaitabor. He ran towards the back of the shop before the noise attracted Defrabax's attention.

The shop was one of a number on a tiny street on the edge of the commercial area. It wasn't difficult to see where the noise was coming from. The metal cover of a drain set towards the centre of the road had been thrown aside, and huge creatures were spilling up from it. They were bipedal apes, larger and much bulkier than most men, and consequently they struggled to pull themselves from the narrow constriction of the sewer tunnels. Their arms were long and strong, and their heads extended straight from their broad shoulders. Their thick fur ran in rough and irregular stripes over their entire bodies, alternating with exposed patches of tough brownish-red skin.

They ran towards the shops and a group of frightened onlookers, chattering and howling like monkeys. Araboam dropped the cloak from his shoulders, and drew his broadsword. He ran forwards, his chain-mail leggings ringing against the moaning shouts of the beasts. A number of scruffy City Guards stood towards the front of the terrified knot of people, but their eyes too were full of fear.

'You men!' shouted Araboam in a voice of confident authority. 'Draw your weapons and repel those creatures!'

The guards - more frightened of the knight striding over to take charge than of the hideous animals - fumbled for their pikes and short swords, and swung them towards the apes. The beasts stopped in their tracks, eyeing the weapons flashing towards them, and bared their long teeth in what could almost have been grins. There was a quick grunt from one of the apes, and they scattered away from the humans, running towards the shops, picking up rocks from the road and hurling them! at the buildings. Windows shattered and doors and painted signs were torn away by the apes' great hands.

Araboam ran towards the creature that was closest to him - the ape was looking the other way, concentrating on ripping off the shutters that closed over a butcher's window - and without warning sliced the blade of his sword through the air and into the thick muscle of the beast's neck and shoulder.

The creature cried out and staggered, one hand immediately attempting to staunch the blood from the wound. It turned, and made as if to lunge at Araboam, but its mind, such as it was, visibly struggled against its instincts. Instead of attacking the ape growled and backed away, moving towards the sewers.

Araboam risked a glance across the street, and saw a similar chain of events there. Having caused a little. damage to property, the creatures were retreating back towards the drain, some of them even knuckling across the ground at great speed.

A few of the guards were now gaining confidence and, with great affectation, made swings at the brutes, joking with the city folk who were near them. Araboam was sensible enough to realize that he was facing a foe much stronger than himself, and he recognized that the apes were retreating of their own volition. But the guards were ignorant fools, enjoying a brief moment of infamy, trying to impress the women.

Araboam felt a sad contempt for them.