Part 29 (1/2)

His face was a forest of tiny crimson thorns.

Extract from the diary of Bernice Summerfield The pressurized tunnel had been rearranged to connect us to the vast central caravan. Waves of cold radiated at us from the bulging walls. As the three of us crossed the open ground, escorted by the two raksha.s.si, and started up the steps of the cathedral-like caravan, I could see, through the mist of condensation, raksha.s.si in pressurized globes attaching ropes to anchor-points all around the caravans. I was confused. If they were intending to pull the caravans across the ice, why attach ropes all the way around?

Sherringford was having a bit of trouble walking on his s.h.i.+ny new wings. It's not the sort of thing that you can practise beforehand.

'I take it,' the Doctor said to him as we walked, 'that all of this business has been in order to rescue your putative G.o.d and get it to Earth.'

The door in front of us began to creak slowly open, like something out of an old horror film.

'Indeed,' Sherringford said in a hiss-laden voice. 'Azathoth suspected that natural gateways had long existed between Earth and Ry'leh - the occasional Indian mystic had managed to open a window through which they had seen the occasional raksha.s.si. Tir Ram's thuggee forebears believed Ry'leh to be the realm of Siva, the Destroyer, and built a temple to wors.h.i.+p in.'

'Not far wrong, were they?' I murmured.

'However,' Sherringford continued, 'neither Azathoth nor Her faithful followers could open the gateway between the worlds from Ry'leh.'

'Why not?' The Doctor seemed genuinely eager to know. 'I would have thought that escape would have been Azathoth's priority. After all, what sort of G.o.d would put up with the shame of eternal detention on a cold ball of rock?'

Sherringford's spiked face swung around until his facial spikes were quivering a few inches from the Doctor's snub nose.

'As you have already found, the only way to open a gateway is by use of certain musical tones which vibrate at some underlying universal frequency - that harmony of the spheres. One of the drawbacks of this form is that we cannot sing.'

'And Azathoth couldn't conjure up a voice box?' The Doctor kept his face straight as he baited Sherringford. 'Not much of a deity, if you ask me.

What do you think, Bernice?'

'Perhaps Azathoth could have equipped her flock with harmonicas.'

'Or kazoos,' he agreed. 'I'm a dab hand with the old comb and paper.'

Sherringford turned away.

'Azathoth had been weakened in Her long battle against the forces of darkness,' he explained.

It was too much like 'G.o.d moves in mysterious ways' for me, and he didn't exactly sound convinced himself.

'It was fortunate for Azathoth,' he went on, 'that I had discovered our father's diaries in the Library of St John the Beheaded. He reproduced the chants he had heard. I was intrigued, and began to experiment with opening a gateway. Travelling to India, I stayed with Tir Ram and managed, with the help of his wise men, to find my way to Ry'leh. After Azathoth had opened my eyes to the Truth, I willingly returned to Earth to make preparations to open a larger, more permanent connection so that we could spread the Word far and wide.'

'And that's where Maupertuis came on board?' the Doctor asked.

'Indeed. Poor Maupertuis. He was so looking forward to his invasion. We needed him to create a diversion, of course. Once I had determined how to move Azathoth from the city of Kadath in the Cold Wastes to the Plain of Leng where the transfer had to take place, I needed to keep the nearest garrison of Shlangii busy while the gateway was opened and Azathoth escaped to Earth. I knew Maupertuis through the Diogenes, and I knew how bright the flame of glory burned within his breast.'

We were walking up the steps to the big doors now. The caravan loomed overhead, dwarfing everything nearby. It looked like a fitting place for a G.o.d. No, actually it looked like a very big dog kennel, but I'm a sucker for religious architecture. I've dug up so much of it in my time.

'Why did you not convert more innocents to your cult?' Holmes asked. 'Why the subterfuge? Why not spread the Word to Maupertuis, or Warburton, or Tir Ram?'

The door opened to K'tcar'ch's push, and Sherringford stepped forward.

Well, lurched. He wasn't getting the hang of those wings.

'The Mark of Azathoth is not easily hidden, as you can see from Brother K'tcar'ch' he said. 'Azathoth's faithful wors.h.i.+ppers would have attracted too much attention to themselves. In order to raise an army to rescue Azathoth from this purgatory, Maupertuis and Warburton had to travel. In Her infinite wisdom, Azathoth decided not to take the risk. I, of course, had little contact with anybody, and could hide whatever physical changes occurred beneath my robes. And besides, the Word is not something that can be explained quickly. Its subtleties and intricacies take time to explain. We did not have time to spare.'

'Vast amounts of physiological and psychological data to transfer,' the Doctor murmured to me as we followed Sherringford into the darkness.

'Even given data compression techniques and broad-band telepathy, it still takes an appreciable time.'

'And why did you steal the books?' Holmes asked as the airlock door closed behind us and embedded itself in some kind of rubber seal.

'Because the Doctor had asked to see them, dear boy. It was apparent that somebody had stumbled on our plans and we had to cover our tracks. I had to act, and act quickly. Once you began to show an interest in the books, Maupertuis's brutal manservant was the perfect choice to steal them.'

'Yes,' the Doctor said, 'that manservant. Did Azathoth have anything to do with the surgery?'

'Oh no,' Sherringford said, rather shocked at the idea. 'That was all Maupertuis's doing. He seemed to enjoy that sort of thing.' He shook his head at the folly of the world. 'Brother K'tcar'ch followed you, of course, to see how far your investigations had progressed, but alas you followed it back to the Library and we were forced to invent a tale to satisfy you. It seemed best to tell you the same story that we had told Maupertuis, with some small modifications.'

The Doctor obviously wanted to ask more, but the inner door opened, revealing a dark, echoing s.p.a.ce, crisscrossed by beams of light from windows high above. In the middle of the s.p.a.ce sat what I can only describe as a big fat slug. A big, fat slug with a mouth that drooled thick strands of black saliva. The stench alone made my eyes water.

'If that's G.o.d,' I said, 'then somebody should shoot Michelangelo.'

I glanced sideways at the Doctor, but he had an odd expression on his face. It looked like disappointment.

Sherringford was on his knees again, with his forehead touching the floor.

Deciding that discretion was better part of valour, I joined him. The Doctor, scowling, followed my example, but I saw him sticking his tongue out as he bent his head.

Something cold and slimy infiltrated itself into my mind. I shook my head violently to try and dislodge it, but I could feel cupboards and drawers being opened and ransacked, and old memories being held up to the light. I tried to turn my attention inwards and fight this thing that was skulking around inside my personality, my me-ness, but it was like trying to catch a rat in the beam of a torch.

It was disgusting. It was rape.

And then it was over. The touch withdrew, leaving a nasty taste in my mind.

'Azathoth!' Sherringford cried, 'all praise!'

The raksha.s.sa repeated the words in its hissing voice.

For a long moment nothing happened, and then Azathoth spoke in a voice as sweet as honey.

'Sherringford, my child... ' it began, 'I am concentrating my energies upon the spiritual plane to ensure our success. You have done well. Disturb me not.'

Sherringford seemed surprised at this abrupt dismissal.

'I have brought you two more wors.h.i.+ppers, oh great Azathoth.'

Azathoth seemed to pause, as if it was listening to something.

'Leave them here. I shall deal with them in my own time. You must oversee the preparations for my descent to the surface.'

Sherringford frowned.