Part 12 (1/2)

All right, the lights would come on and there would be a lot of beeping, but without the psychic control of the Old Ones, the palace would just idle, turning over like an engine in neutral.

Restoring power is not without its risks, the Doctor admits, but once he has the Key to Time fully rea.s.sembled, he could always come back and close it down again. For once, he would have to leave a job temporarily unfinished. But the stability of the entire universe was at stake. He couldn't be expected to be in two places at once.

The Doctor nods to himself. Very well. Get the power on, find Romana and get on with the mission. There seems to be no other way.

That's not to say he has to make it easy for Neville...

The chanting has reached its inevitable shouting climax.

Neville is on his knees, sweat pouring out of his robes, screaming for his master. 'Valdemar! VALDEMAR!'

The drapes by the entrance rustle in the cold wind. The Doctor hasn't bothered to stay for the end.

He waits for Neville in the control room of the Old Ones. He has draped himself over one of the baroque instrument panels, scarf dangling. He appears completely calm, just waiting. He pops a jelly baby into his mouth.

A sound, in the doorway. The Doctor grins. 'Knock, knock,'

he says. 'h.e.l.lo Paul.'

Neville's eyes glitter from his exertions. 'You wanted to see me?'

'Yes, I did want to see you.' The Doctor leaps up. 'Yes, I did.

How was the black ma.s.s? Very strenuous, I should imagine.

If you want to go around raising demons and the like, I'd make sure you have a vigorous warm-up beforehand.'

'I take it you wanted to see me for something more important than this nonsense.'

'How about I get the power back on for you?'

Neville hides his surprise. 'You can do it?'

'Of course I can do it! The question is, do you really want it done?'

'What does that mean?'

'Restoring the power won't get you what you want. You should know that.'

Neville is staring up at the controls. He is bunching his fists.

The Doctor grabs those fists. He stares into Neville's face.

'Nothing for nothing, Paul. This is a negotiation.'

Neville pulls away. 'I would do anything. Anything.'

'Now that's not a very good opening gambit, is it?' The Doctor is casual again. 'I mean, the essence of negotiation is that we slowly reach an agreement, bargaining our way to...'

'Shut up. What do you want?'

The Doctor considers. 'Return myself and Romana to the tomb. Release Pelham from wherever you're keeping her.'

'Is that all?' Neville laughs, genuinely amused. 'You give me the universe and that is all you want? I am not an idiot, Doctor. What is down there?'

'Just my s.h.i.+p. I promise not to interfere with whatever you want to do.'

Neville considers.

Why is the Doctor feeling hot all of a sudden? Why can't he get that line out of his mind: 'Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis'? Faustus Faustus, Act One, Scene Three. Don't think about it.

'You don't believe I will be able to use the power, do you?'

'That's not for me to say.'

'You think I don't know what I'm doing?'

'Do you want this bargain or not? Because I'm tired of listening to you.'

Neville smiles, his perfect teeth s.h.i.+ning. 'Doctor. How can I refuse?'

The Doctor hears a rus.h.i.+ng sound in his ears. Why is his conscience acting up? It isn't fair, why should such a choice be left to him? He forces himself to think of the Key; the consequences of failure should he not collect all six segments. He thinks of the end of the universe.

It is as if he is no longer in control of his actions. It's not possession or anything like that; he has come to this conclusion logically. Rather, it is as if someone has fed this intention into his mind; cut off any pathways to alternative actions; guiding him inexorably towards that which he knows he has to do. As if he has been hoodwinked.

What he is doing is right; he can't put his finger on any flaws, any way out of the necessity to restore the power.

'Doctor, do it,' says a panting Neville. 'Do it now.'

Feeling like the victim of some arcane confidence trick, the structure of which he is unable to comprehend, the Doctor snaps his fingers and the power comes on.

Something happens. All around the palace lights and sounds, operating from instruments previously hidden or ignored, suddenly emerge like a new morning. In the piazza, the lazy cultists are astounded by the sudden s.h.i.+fting of their architecture. Nothing stays still, even the floor is moving as if working its way through some carefully rehea.r.s.ed ballet.

Hermia, Stanislaus and the others clutch at the trundling furniture, certain that all their suspicions are well-founded.

The palace is full of devils.

Romana sees her room begin to grow, the wood of the wardrobe expanding and darkening, as if previously only sketched in. Her bed, in fact everything, becomes more defined, though she had never realised it lacked that definition.

Huvan claps his hands and laughs. The music in his head, that sweet noise that has lodged itself in there ever since his arrival, swells and layers. He feels in tune with the palace.

His poetry rises from its squalid piles, the scribbled sheets hanging frozen in front of him. Huvan yells like an ape. He did this. He has made it happen.

He has never been so happy.

In the control room, Neville is lost in his rapture. He is weeping as he stares at the returning life. Somewhere deep inside the palace, great cogs are turning. Neville touches this, feels that, watches the swells and transformations of the magic of the Old Ones. 'It's alive!' he roars. 'IT'S ALIVE!'