Part 37 (1/2)

'Sheltering generation on generation of your Kith since the birth of the New Time.'

'Home.'

'We are your plans, designs and architecture. We, who rejoice in your name of...'

'Lungbarrow!' they chorused. 'Lungbarrow! Lungbarrow!' Their cries echoed through the Hall, taken up and repeated by the walls and galleries, the wood and stone.

157.

The Cousins and guests stared up and about in fear. The glancing echoes darkened, grew more thunderous, as if the House itself had found a voice.

LUNGBARROW! LUNGBARROW! LUNGBARROW!.

Through the continuing tirade came Satthralope's voice. 'None of you shal ever leave the House again! The Family is united at last!'

Glospin was staring fixedly across the table at the Doctor.

The Doctor was gazing up at the TARDIS which was swaying unnervingly in the web.

As the tumult final y died, there was a clash of drums and tuned gongs from invisible musicians. Forty-five chairs, most of them empty, shuffled round to afford their occupants a view of the open Hall.

Giant puppets, bigger than Drudges, lurched out of the shadows. Huge painted heads set on flowing cloaks. They seemed to work themselves.

'Good grief,' complained the Doctor and slumped in his chair. 'I thought we'd be spared this.'

'Begin the Mystery,' said Satthralope and stamped her cane.

'This ritual,' said Leela, excitedly, 'is it the Mystery of the New Time?'

The Doctor gave a glum nod.

'Then I have read about it,' she continued proudly. 'But it is never performed now. It was presumed lost.'

'Just like Le Sacre du Printemps?' added Dorothee.

'Some things are better off staying lost.' The Doctor scowled across the silverware at Glospin. 'Was this your idea?'

'In your honour,' smiled his Cousin. 'It's traditional. Highly appropriate, don't you think, for such a special occasion?'

The Doctor slid deeper into his chair. He glanced enviously at Chris. The young man's head had nodded back and he was snoring gently.

The gongs began a rolling repeated tune like a gamelan band over which a wild flute wailed like the wind. A puppet with a blue cloak and long silver hair full of jewels appeared. One eye was red. The puppet gyrated about the Hal , billowing its cloak as if it was casting spells.

'This is the al -seeing Pythia,' said Leela. 'And this is Ra.s.silon. Now they will fight for the future of Gallifrey.'

A second, smaller puppet had appeared. It had red hair and a crown and it waved a silver mace or rod. It performed a stylized fight with the Pythia puppet; the two figures exchanging blow after symbolic blow, more dance than combat. Eventual y, the Pythia swung its head high and the flute shrieked in agony. The drums rolled like thunder and the stone floor of the Hall cracked open in spectacular fas.h.i.+on. The puppet vanished into the creva.s.se with a scream and a spurt of flame.

'Sepulchasm!' shouted the Cousins as the Ra.s.silon puppet raise its arms in triumph.

'Inaccurate,' complained the Doctor. 'Ra.s.silon should not be wearing that sash yet.'

'Whoa! Better write in and complain,' said Dorothee.

Leela shushed them. The spectacle had clearly moved her. 'It was the curse. Now Gallifrey is doomed and there are no more children.'

158.

Mock snow started to fall from the gal eries. Through the swirling white, they watched a slow procession of puppets, al carrying small swaddled bundles. Each figure took a turn, gently laying its bundle into the crack through which the Pythia had fallen. Dorothee thought of her own mother tucking her in at night. She saw the Doctor shoot Leela a sudden knowing glance. 'It's just a play,' he whispered. 'Nothing personal.'

Leela held his look for a long time. She looked deeply upset. 'I am so sorry for you all,' she said. He nodded and squeezed her hand gently, but Dorothee couldn't tell who was rea.s.suring who. She also noticed that Glospin's eyes never left the Doctor.

The puppets were moving in a circle in what Innocet called the mystical Dance of the Intuitive Revelation. First they lamented in identical movements, railing fists at heaven, putting their heads together, dancing with one mind.

Then slowly, each one broke the circle, finding a separate dance of its own.

Two figures joined Ra.s.silon. The first juggled flaming b.a.l.l.s with a single hand. ('Oh, very symbolic,' said Dorothee.) The second only moved in the background. It was faceless and wrapped in a black cowl.

'That one is the Other,' announced Glospin.

The Doctor fiddled with his cutlery.

Accompanied by another shriek from the flute, the first, the juggling Omega puppet, exploded in flames. When the smoke died, only his unscathed hand stuck out of his ashes on a stick. Ra.s.silon moved to take the hand, but the Other puppet moved in and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the prize. The two puppets fought a duel, hand to mace, until the Other was finally vanquished and cast down.

There was a triumphant crescendo of drums and gongs.

And Chris suddenly jumped out of his chair. 'No!' he shouted at the puppets. 'That's all wrong! It wasn't like that at all!'

'Silence!' ordered Satthralope and the House rumbled angrily.

The Doctor held on to Chris, trying to calm him.

'Those aren't his thoughts,' called Glospin, pointing at Chris. 'They're Wormhole's thoughts. He's the serpent who destroyed our Family!'

The grim puppet of the Other rose, towering up from the floor. It gave a fluted shriek and rushed at the Doctor, swallowing him whole in its black cowl.

159.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

Table Manners

The last rays of sunlight slanted across the gardens and into the shabby hall in the South wing.

Captain Redred was only too glad to escape the House's cloying atmosphere. He checked the doc.u.ments he was carrying and stepped into the transmat booth. He separated the official doc.u.ments of interment registration from the item requiring special carriage to the Agency.