Part 32 (1/2)

The ornate hilt of a double-bladed dagger stuck out of his chest. Blood was stil running down his robe.

'Angels and ministers of grace defend us,' said the Doctor.

'Well?' replied the Ghost. 'Is that al ? No apologies?'

'For having murdered you?'

'For wrecking our plans.'

' Your Your plans, Quences, not mine.' plans, Quences, not mine.'

'Everything I have worked for. The work of thirteen lifetimes.'

'Which has probably turned to dust by now, thanks to Satthralope.' The Doctor directed the beam of a gun-shaped scanner at the Ghost. 'Better be careful, Quences. Your ectoplasmic levels are dangerously low. One might almost call them non-existent.'

The Ghost sat down in a chair without denting the dusty cus.h.i.+on. He studied the Doctor sadly. 'Over the centuries, this miserable House has produced nothing but servants and petty clerks. But you were different. You had a mind, and a cunning one at that. That's why I prepared your way.' The dagger hilt in his b.l.o.o.d.y chest had a fascinating way of bobbing up and down as he spoke.

The Doctor sniffed and glanced at Badger, who seemed oblivious of their conversation. How discreet he could be.

'You didn't do so badly, Quences. Ordinal-General of the Brotherhood of Kithriarchs is a fine achievement.'

'Oh, yes. A hard-won, hard-fought position. But you could supersede that by far.'

'And be the Family's first Cardinal? I don't think so. I failed my chapter certificates in officiating and legislating. I failed them rather miserably.'

'You failed them deliberately. Most of your results were calculated to barely win you a pa.s.s.'

'Well, what do you expect?' complained the Doctor. 'As soon as you arrive at Prydon Academy, they drum everything you know out of your head and replace it with years of lectures on the viability of panotropic racking systems.'

'No need to stop at Cardinal. You alone in this miserable House can achieve true greatness of power.'

'I know I could.' The Doctor strolled across to the darkened window. He looked at the Ghost's reflection in the gla.s.s. 'That was why it was such a relief when you disinherited me.'

The old man was trembling. 'I had such plans for you. Not for the House or that squirming lizard of Satthralope's, Glospin. But you. My successor.'

'You picked the wrong person, Quences. I had plans of my own.'

The Ghost rose angrily from his chair, his cloak slowly swirling. 'Still no apologies for keeping us waiting?'

'Why? What are you going to do? Change your will? If anyone can find it, that is.'

'By law, my wishes cannot be flouted.'

'Try tel ing your Family that. And tell me who real y murdered you.'

138.

'You did, Doctor. I saw you.' Tears of ectoplasm welled in his ghostly eyes. 'I didn't expect that, I confess. But I was going to die anyway, so my arrangements were already made.'

'What arrangements?'

'Find out for yourself. You escaped once, but, now you're back, my plans can be realized at last.'

The Ghost turned and headed out through the closed door. 'That's right,' called the Doctor. 'Troop home to a churchyard or whatever wayward spirits do here on Gallifrey. See if I care.'

Quences's sepulchral voice echoed up from the cellarage. 'Find the wil , Doctor. Find my wil .'

'The others cal him ”Wormhole” for the same reason that I cal him ”Snail”.' Innocet had walked Chris through the towering racks of tube books until they reached the far wall.

'You're not obliged to tell me,' he said.

'It's nothing for him to be embarra.s.sed about. Just a slight. . .' She paused. 'Just a slight physical defect.'

'Yes?'

'A small convex protuberance on his abdomen. It's shaped like the curling shel of a snail.'

Chris was puzzled. 'But that's only his navel. His belly b.u.t.ton. Left over from his umbilical. Everyone has one of those.'

He opened the front of his coloured s.h.i.+rt. Innocet looked away in embarra.s.sment.

'No, they do not,' said the Doctor peering at them through some empty racks. 'Not around here.'

'Sorry,' said Chris and b.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt.

Innocet was staring through the racks at the Doctor. 'Who are you? Was it real y the Hand of Omega that came to collect you?'

'I'm your Cousin, Innocet.'

She put her hand to her face. 'I don't know what to believe. Your thoughts tel me that a legend reached out and s.n.a.t.c.hed you back into the forbidden past. If it's true, what damage have you caused?'

The Doctor rounded the corner and faced her. 'If I was there, then I was part of it.'

Her eyes hardened. 'And you abandoned us to all this. How far back did you go? For all we know, you could have... you could have become the Other himself.'

'Don't be ridiculous. You know I always wanted to travel.'

'And perhaps you did come back to murder Quences.'

The Doctor growled. 'Why? Because he disinherited me? Perhaps I was glad to get away from the place! Perhaps I am a nasty alien, with nasty, progressive unGallifreyan ideas, infiltrating your terribly important Family!'

'Doctor,' said Chris gently. 'I'm the only alien here. But Arkhew recognized you as the murderer.'

The Doctor stalked away between the racks. 'I need to find the will!'